Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

For the Want of a Nail	By : thewickednix Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4934 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. This is made for fun, not profit.

Chapter List
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Chapter 3. Flightless Bird

The Hogwarts Express seems never to have made its way over these moors as fast as it now does, and yet the journey has never been this agonizingly slow. I watch the never ending sceneries change before me, like the images I replay my sixteen-year old life in.
Looking down at my scarred wrist, I sigh. How has it all come to this?
I have found it apparent that vampires can't commit suicide. At least not in any usual way, considering the fact that we do not bleed. Technically I could just cut open my chest and carve out my heart. But I'm sure that would be unnecessary painful considering the fact that it probably would be just another miserable failure.
I run my hand though my hair, which I have cut to the same short hairdo I had before all of this shit.

How has my life come to this?

Realizing that we are approaching Hogwarts, I stand up on weak legs to change into my school robes. I feel pathetic, being so weak that I can barely stand without passing out. Still, it's better than the alternative.
Though my body screams for the release of drinking blood, my brain is still strong enough to prevent me from killing anybody. I don't know how I am going to make it through sleeping in the dorm, when getting on the train without jumping somebody's neck was nearly unbearable.
I know I should tell somebody. My parents. Or Severus. But Merlin, Lucius would only give me as a weapon to the Dark Lord. And my godfather, well... He would lock me up. For my own safety, yes, but nevertheless. It really leaves me with only one option.
I have to talk to Dumbledore.

___________________________________________________________________

Shaking legs carry me up the stairs to Dumbledore's office. Standing outside the door I ask myself one last time if I am making a wise choice.

Certainly not.

From behind his desk, Dumbledore smiles at me warmly. As if he'd known I would pay him a visit.
Well, who's to say he didn't?
"Young Mr Malfoy," The old man smiles, eyes twinkling behind half moon spectacles. "What can I do for you? I do hope you haven't gotten yourself into trouble already. The Yule Holidays have barely ended."
I hold my posture. "I have no time to lose, Headmaster. I need your help."
The old man's smile fades a tad at this, and he gestures for me to take a seat at the chair in front of the desk.
"Would you care to elaborate, Mr Malfoy?" he asks, breaking eye contact nonchalantly to conjure a tea set.
Offense is the best defense, eh?
"Considering that he is currently residing in Azkaban, I am positive you know already, sir, that my father is one of You-Know-Who's closest followers. His right hand man, one might say." I state in a challenging manner to get spurt into this conversation.
Dumbledore just keeps smiling merrily at me. "Yes, Mr Malfoy. I did know. Alas, I am intrigued. Why are you telling me this?" his eyes twinkle my way again, before he once again turns to his tea pot. "Would you care for some tea?"
I almost retch at the idea of having to swallow the vile liquid. Even so, I manage to keep my declination polite. "No thank you, sir. My incapacity to accept leads me to the real problem." I inform the Headmaster, who has now gained a small furrow between his brows.
"Please continue, Mr Malfoy."
"Yes, sir," I croak, my voice suddenly betraying me. You see, Headmaster, during the Holidays, I visited Diagon Alley one night. And, well... I was attacked." Looking down at my pale hands, I find myself unable to continue.
The old coot's reaction to my story so far is close to nil. Only a slight raising of one eyebrow indicates that he even heard me. "By whom were you attacked, Mr Malfoy? Not by a Death Eater, I'm sure?"
"If only it had been." I release a small chuckle, and the the Headmaster furrows his brow deeper at that. Knowing I have to get this over with, I take a deep breath. "I was attacked by a vampire, sir."
Finally, the old fool shows some kind of human reaction. His eyes grow wide as he repeats my statement. "You were attacked by a vampire."
"Yes, sir," I nod, not caring to elaborate further. I know Dumbledore has already understood.
And I am right. "How do you handle feeding, Draco?" Oh, it's Draco now, is it? Fancy that. I feel almost as special as Saint Potter himself.
I sigh. "I don't. That is why I need your help, Headmaster. I will not kill anyone just for me to feed. But an immortal starving himself to death... it's not pleasant."
The Headmaster seems a little sickened by my gory statement. I would be lying if I said I didn't find any joy in being the one to rip that merry expression from his features.
As he does not answer immediately, I take the opportunity to continue. "Hence, I ask to join your side in this war, Headmaster. I know I could be to great use by making potions, not to mention my new-acquired strength and speed in battle. What I ask in return is sanctuary, and that the affair of my feeding could be solved. By blood donations for example, or something similar."
Dumbledore is quiet for a long moment. "The public will not be happy about the light side having a vampire working with them."
I snort exaggeratedly before responding. "They'll be happy enough when we win the war."

___________________________________________________________________

Our eyes lock for a second in the hall. He turns away fast, avoiding the fight that is expected to occur whenever we meet. Weasley says something and laughs with the decibel of a rabid dog barking, completely ignoring the fact that Potter is barely listening to him. Granger drops a book, and blushes to the roots of her bushy hair as Weasley picks it up for her.
I shake my head slowly, avoiding to look at the Golden Trio as I pass them by to return to the safety of the dungeons. Not even my House is what it used to be. I used to feel at home here. Safe.
Now I am haunted even by these walls. By my father. By Voldemort. By what I've become. By what my future will hold. By Potter.
Potter has changed. It's been a while since I've seen him smile. Really smile. Like he smiled when he won his first Quiddich game. Like he smiled when he first flew his Firebolt. Like that time when he'd beaten the dragon.
That smile that turns the wizarding world around is faltering. His innocence is fading. He's coming to realise the dirty truth of war. He believes he is responsible. He believes that all those people are dying because of him. I can see it in his eyes. I can smell it in his scent.
Potter is dying. Of guilt.

___________________________________________________________________

This is it. I'm on my way to an Order meeting. Dumbledore told me to come to his office at 11 pm. So either we're going to the meeting, or the old man has decided to take me out on a late night rendezvous.
"Draco, I am pleased to see you are on time. We have to leave immediately." Dumbledore states his hurried greeting as I enter his office. He reaches out his arm for me. "I take it you have side-along apparated before?"
"Yes, sir," I answer. I bypass the temptation to inform the Headmaster that though I may not be seventeen for a couple of months yet, I have known how to apparate for three years. I hesitate in taking Dumbledore's offered arm, fearing anyone's reaction to my cold hand. The Headmaster pays no mind to my hesitation, but grabs my arm firmly to prove to me that I should not fear him. when clutching to Dumbledore's arm, I suddenly realise that no one should be able to apparate from Hogwarts.
A useless thought. The next thing I know I am standing on a cold, dark Muggle street. Dumbledore hands me a paper, a handwritten note.

Grimmauld Place 12

As soon as I have read the note, it goes up in flames. A large black house appears between two others right before my eyes.

Ah, Fidelius Charm, then.

Dumbledore doesn't say a word as we stalk over to the house. The large wooden door opens into what obviously is a very old wizarding home. The hallway is dark and damp, lit only with two ancient gas lamps. A big canvas covers the wall behind the stairs. Though the hall is empty, I hear muffled voices from behind two doors I can only presume lead to the dining room.
I follow Dumbledore to those doors, thinking my steps against the dusty dark floor sound like canon shots in the night. Dumbledore walks through the door before me and I hear cheers and what I recognise as Mr Weasley's voice.
"Albus! Glad you could make it. Should we begin the meeting, then?"
I can hear the smile in the Headmaster's voice as he answers. "Yes, we should indeed. We have much to discuss tonight." He then turns smiling towards me, and takes a step to the side so that I will come in view of everyone.
The room becomes completely silent.
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For the Want of a Nail