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Dead like a Phoenix	By : OrangeMira Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 3135 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter Franchise and I have made no money from this story

Chapter List
- 1-Dead like a Phoenix
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 1
- 2
Dead like a Phoenix

So the first line of this just came to me. The first chapter is a little weird and its not at all how the rest of the story will be, it’s more of a prologue. The OCs are not really important so much as they are used to illustrate parts of Draco’s character. This will contain mentions of past abuse, both physical and sexual and probably some Drarry going on a bit later.

Also, I own nothing.

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“The stroke of the tongue breaketh the bones. Many have fallen by the edge of the sword; but not so many as have fallen by the tongue.”

Ecclesiasticus (ch. XXVIII, v. 17)

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How do you describe the ruination of a life? How do you put misery into clever, simple little words? How do you say that in the desolation there was growth, like a flower rising from the ashes of a scorched forest...

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Draco Malfoy’s house was an odd sort of place. There was a Mermaid lingering the fountain, a vampire living in his basement, and three Veela who he was distantly related too inhabiting the left wing of the manor. There also may or may not be a Djinn, the Veela were quite hysterical over it anyway.

He didn’t know why he allowed the vampire to stay. After his mother died, she had been the first ‘friend’ he had cultivated.

He had been sitting in his mother’s rose garden, though it was more than a rose wilderness now with weeds growing as thickly as flowers, reading by lumos light.

...The mitochondrion is an organelle found in most eukaryoticcellsand creates energy for cell by generating adenosine triphosphate. Mitochondria are also involved in many other cell functions including...

Draco sighed, cell biology was perhaps the most boring subject he ever had the misfortune of finding interesting. He glanced up, the moon was nearly full.

Almost time, he thought idly, gaze flicking back to his book. And then up again, because there was a shape in the corner of his eye that had not been there before. It was a woman, for a moment he thought a ghost, but no, she was pale, but not translucent.

“Salve,” (hello) she waved with a smile. The first voice he had heard in three years.

He waved back, and asked with his hands if she spoke sign. It would take about a week for the question of how she got past his wards to occur to him.

“Surdus es?” (Are you deaf?)She raised her brows. Stooping into the ruined garden she plucked up a rose on a long, thorny stem.

He shook his head and pointed to his neck, or rather the hole under his chin. Even now, it still made every breath feel like sand paper being shoved down his trachea. He couldn’t really remember getting it; he couldn’t remember most of what happened to him in the Camps.

“Ruit iugulum?” (Your throat is ruined?) she asked, chewing the rose in her thick, pointed teeth, heedless of the thorns. Her Latin sounded forced and her words were strung together awkwardly and choppily. “Tu istum roges me intus?” (Are you going to ask me in?)

He rolled his eyes and tapped two fingers in a striking motion on his neck. Draco stood and moved to go inside the cold leached into his bones far faster than it had before.

“Scio me Lamiam. Non bibam sanguinem tuum mihi opus mansit in cellam quod oriente sole.” (I know I am a vampire. I will not drink your blood, I need to spend the night in your cellar because the sun is rising.) She had made it to the blossom now, and licked the dew from the pink petals with a colourless tongue.

He tapped his brow and pursed his lips, as if to say, I’m not stupid.

“Iuramentum: Si occidero nulla humana in domo vestra.”She tore the pink petals away, placing them on her long tongue one at a time, “Lamiam promissio non potest solvi, nosti.”(My oath. I will not kill any human in your house. Vampire promises cannot be broken, you know.)

He opened the glass sliding door that led into the house from the garden and motioned her inside. He didn’t know what made him do it, it was stupid, he knew that, but he did it anyway.

She was beautiful, but it was the beauty of a wild animal. One who was hunted, and starved to emancipation but still kept its shoulders proud and high, teeth bared. Inside the house her skin remained the same ghostly shade, strawberry hair shimmering in the soft candle light. Her eyes were blue jewels so luminous they hardly looked real and her jaw had taken on the snakish, triangular shape that afflicted aged vampires. She smelled more animal than human, which he found oddly comforting.

“Gratias, Draco Malfoy.” (Thank you)She bowed her head, “Dormiam nunc.”( I will sleep now)

She smiled with rotten vampire teeth, and headed towards the dungeons.

Draco managed to make a noise, and when she turned, he mimed a bed.

“No, gratias, puella. Utor nomine Lux.” She closed her blue lips and winked, wandering off downstairs as if she had always been there. (No, thank you, sweetheart. I use the name of Light.)

Light? He frowned; she may as well name herself death.

Draco never asked what she ate, or rather who, in fact they had almost no communication, though she would often sit in his work room for hours on end. In response to his raised eye brow, she had simply shrugged and explained that she liked the sound of a heartbeat, after years of silence.

It creeped him out a little, and she absolutely terrified his Veelas. There were three of them, a female and two males. They were even more of a mystery than, merely showing up one day, spouting nonsense about a debt his father owed them in a thick Icelandic accent. After his death, apparently the debt had fallen to him.

They appeared more human than Lux, but that did not bother him, for once. He supposed it was the smell; it was sweet and cloying, not at all like the cheese/earth/fish smell that seemed to surround humanity.

The first night the Veela arrived, they were sitting at the dinner table with Draco when the vampire slunk into room. Her head cocked to the side, she hissed, white tongue lapping blue lips.

The female, Vanna, extended her wings with a high pitched screech. Her chair was thrown backwards, and the brothers stood just as suddenly, though they had no wings to reveal.

“Salve,” Lux whispered, eyes blue embers.

“Vampire!” it was one of the males, Fannar.

Draco sighed and held up a hand. Of course, the Veela didn’t know how to sign either, so he relied primarily on hand gestures to try to indicate the vampire’s harmlessness. Though he realized her exact words had been Si occidero nulla humana in domo vestra, so she really could drain the Veelas without breaking her word. She could probably kill him too.

Mediating disputes between different species who did not speak the same language while being mute yourself was an exercise in a kind of patience Draco did not know he possessed.

But, Draco Malfoy supposed, it was worth it if it kept his pack together; Werewolves were social creatures after all.

I know, it’s weird. I almost didn’t publish it. It gets both weirder and simpler as time progresses.

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Dead like a Phoenix