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
- 3
- 4
- 5
Chapter 4. Toy Soldiers

They are all sitting around a big, dark, wooden table. Mr Weasley looks like he might fall off his chair. Mrs Weasley, who is currently serving coffee to her husband is shaking so badly she needs to grab the table for support. A woman with appalling purple hair has tripped over a carafe with pumpkin juice, and is in such a shock that she doesn't even notice the red liquid pouring down onto her lap.
A chubby and dirty man, who reminds me disgustingly much of Pettigrew, is the only one who doesn't seem to react. That on the other hand might have something to do with the fact that he is currently filling his pockets with the silverware from the table.
The Muddblood is grabbing the book she is holding so hard her knuckles are whitening, while Weasley's jaw is about two inches off the floor. Potter is staring at me with eyes the size of saucers, stirring his cup of coffee frantically. And then, I see Severus, who has just walked into the room from the kitchen, staring at me as if he has seen a ghost.
No one says a word.
"Albus, why is he here?" my godfather finally croaks, still staring at me as if I will turn to dust as soon as he looks away.
Before Dumbledore has time to answer, though, I see a shadow approaching me from the side. Weasley lunges pathetically past me as I take a leisurely step backwards to avoid him. The red-head does a U-turn and jumps my throat again, this time without me making any move to stop him.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing here, Ferret? Sticking your ugly nose in here too to get hold of information that'll get you in favour of daddy's master, eh?" He is only inches from my face, roaring at the top of his lungs as he presses his arm against my throat. As if I needed the air anyway. I snicker to myself, knowing that I could rip that arm off with ease.
I do not fight back however, knowing that that would look bad for me. Besides, Merlin knows what I could do if Weasley were to draw blood in our fight. The thought of drinking a Weasley's blood is almost too disgusting to bear.
I swallow, Weasley's raging blood pulsing too loudly through his veins, too close for comfort. I reach out and grab Weasley's wrist, removing his arm from my throat with ease. I wouldn't have needed to use much force anyway, as soon as my hand touches his bare skin, Weasley bounces back with a gasp.
With Weasley staring at me and gasping like a goldfish on dry land, Dumbledore's voice seems miles away.
"Ron, that's enough."
It seems not even the Weasel is dumb enough to oppose the Headmaster's orders. He returns to his seat, however reluctantly, rubbing his wrist absent-mindedly.
"Come over here, Draco. Sit down." Dumbledore gestures to one chair at the end of the table, and takes a seat in the one next to it.
Face an ignorant mask, I approach the table. Weasley has sat back down and is keeping quiet now, face still as red as ever.
Everyone else is still silent, waiting for Dumbledore to explain. Fortunately, for once he begins without any ado.
"Draco came to me a week ago with a request to join the Order. After listening to his reasons, I could not deny his request," the Headmaster begins, but pauses to accept a cup of tea from Mrs Weasley.
"Thank you, Molly." He sips his tea for a minute, before putting it onto the table and crossing his hands. "You see, Draco was supposed to be marked as a Death Eater in June."

A low murmur fills the room. I snort, as if the information was surprising to anyone. It is the woman with the ghastly hair who speaks up first. " 'Was supposed to'? What changed?"
I narrow my eyes. Something is off about this woman. As she leans slightly closer to hear the Headmaster's response, I catch a sniff of her scent. There is something very familiar about it. I'm just about to ignore it when she raises her hand to brush her shoulder length hair behind her ear to reveal her throat. I raise an eyebrow in confusion.
"You are related to me."
All heads turn towards me as I watch the purple haired woman intently. She stares at me for a second before regaining her composure.
"Yes, I'm Nymphadora Tonks. My mother is Andromeda Tonks, née Black."
I nod shortly. With that hair, I should've guessed that this is the Metamorphagus daughter of my aunt and that Muggle she married.
Potter stares at me in as much confusion as the others. "How did you know?"
I give him a blank look. "I had a hunch."
Some of the people at the table are about to protest, but Dumbledore cuts them off with a cough. "Gentlemen, -and ladies," he adds as Hermione and Tonks snort. "May we please proceed to the actual--"
I cut off the Headmaster by standing up rapidly from my chair. A mere reflex from hearing someone enter the house and approach the dining room. My instincts tell me that this is no ordinary guest. Every hair on my body is suddenly standing and my muscles are rigid and ready for a fight. And I suddenly realise what is wrong with the newcomer.
I turn towards the door just in time to see the handle being pushed down. Within a second from the opening of the door I have the newcomer thrown to the wall with one arm, fingers pressed to his throat.
"Werewolf." I can but hiss, and I see the man's brown eyes stare back at me in horror. I suddenly recognise him as Professor Lupin, the DAD teacher from third grade, but the notion does nothing to make me ease my grip. For all I now know is that this man is a werewolf, a beast as much as I am, and no less dangerous. My need for self-preservation tells me to off this monster when-
"Draco." I hear Dumbledore's voice from behind a thick veil it seems, and suddenly I am drawn back to reality. "Let him go."
Narrowing my eyes at the werewolf one last time, I let go of his throat, and see him lean against the wall as his legs give way. Ignoring my enemy, I turn my anger towards Dumbledore.
"Who are you to tell me what to do? He is a werewolf, he should be killed as soon as possible," I hiss between clenched teeth at the Headmaster, who doesn't even blink.
"That is what most people would say about you, Draco," he merely retorts, a twinkle in his eyes.
I feel the rage take over and a split second later I am standing face to face with Dumbledore, my face inches from his. "I can control my... problems. He, on the other hand," I gesture towards the pathetic lump still leaning at the wall, "loses his whole self as he transforms. If someone were to get in the way of that... it wouldn't be pretty. He should. Not. Be. Here."
The old fool does not budge. "Draco, Professor Lupin is one of our oldest members. His condition is well taken care of. You have no reason to worry."
I stare at Dumbledore for a minute before the vampire in me gives up. A terrible nausea starts churning in the pit of my stomach. I turn and walk towards the large window on the other side of the room, far away from both the werewolf and the dining table. Panic fills my insides as I think about the fact that I almost just killed a man. An ally, at that. I cross the last yard to the window in a jump that lands me on the wide window sill. As my breath speeds up, I fight to get the window to open. Tears stream down my face as I claw frantically at the handle, leaving deep marks in the dark wood. Finally, the large window opens. I lean out through the window, feeling sick but of course unable to empty my stomach.
Eventually my breathing returns to normal. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand and turn back towards the others.
They have gotten the werewolf to sit down at the table, but no one is saying anything. Everyone is just staring at me in deep shock.
I cross the floor on shaky legs, feeling the anxiety and lack of food wearing me down. I notice everyone shift in their seats as I approach, so I stop in my tracks a yard or so from the table.
I take a deep breath and brace myself for the inevitable humiliation of an apology. "I am sorry that I accosted you, Professor. It was not my intention, I just let my instincts run away with me. It will not happen again." Clenching my jaw, I fight to keep my word and to not react aggressively to the scent of the werewolf at the table.
Before Lupin has time to open his mouth, Dumbledore speaks. "You must excuse Draco, Remus. He has had a rough couple of weeks."
Giving me a wary look, the werewolf turns towards the Headmaster. "Albus, what in the world is going on? That boy's strength is not normal. And his scent, it's odd. I can't interpret it, it's... just off."
Dumbledore nods understandingly before gesturing for me to take my place next to him again. I look warily at the people around the table, still staring at me in confusion and fright. "I think I'd better just stand here for a while. I don't know if I should be that close to all of you yet. My emotions are still running wild and... I'm just not sure if I can control myself properly right now. Just give me a minute."
The confusion at the table intensifies, and everyone's eyes shift from me to Dumbledore and back again as if watching a silent ping-pong game. Dumbledore just nods, and turns back to the others.
"You see, in the end of the Yule Holidays, Draco was in Diagon Alley. There was an accident." Everyone looks at me with a furrowed brow, and I can't help but snort. "Accident, my arse."
After silencing me with a stern look, the Headmaster continues. "He was attacked... by a vampire."
A stunned minute of silence before exclaims and uproars fill the room, and I fight to keep my face neutral as everyone turns to stare at me.
"He- he can't have been!" I turn to look at Weasley's horror stricken face and raise an eyebrow. "He wouldn't be alive if he were!"
I can't but snicker at the fool's attempt to deny what is on everyone's lips already. I inspect one of my hands pale nonchalantly as I respond. "Who said that I am alive?" And before anyone has time to react, I raise my hand to my throat and slice my pulse point with my sharp thumb nail.
A shocked uproar echoes through the room as everyone rises from their seats. As they rush towards me, only two notice that I am neither bleeding nor writhing in pain, and freeze in their steps. I turn my gaze from Severus to Potter, who is staring at my throat as if I were growing a second head there, before averting his gaze to my face. Our eyes lock, emerald with the silver grey I know Potter recognises. I see something in that gaze, something beyond the hate and fright and shock I see mirrored in everyone else's eyes.
Recognition.
Because he knows how I feel, doesn't he? How it feels not to be living, yet not dead. Breathing, but hollow. Buried alive.
The spell breaks as everyone reaches me, Mrs Weasley attacking me with a towel and her wand raised, shrieking "Oh you poor boy, what have you done?" I stand still and wait for the revelation. One minute, I have five hundred hands on me, voices repeating that 'it'll all be OK'. And the next I know the hands are withdrawn as if burned, while the room grows dead silent.
"Wha-" I hear Mr Weasley stammer as he looks at me throat which should be covered with blood
"You don't bleed...!" Granger mutters as she approaches me anew, staring into my eyes with both fright and excitement. "Your hair has changed colour, too," she states while gripping my chin gently and tipping my head to the side, to get a better view of my cut throat. Then she reaches to touch my hand gently. "You have cold hands..." I feel a trembling thumb caress the wound on my neck as the girl whispers "...You're a vampire, aren't you?"
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- 5
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For the Want of a Nail