"Draco?...............Draco?".......... He woke with a start, his mind surging through memory after memory; the vampire, the dark forest, his parents, Voldemort! But where was he now? The room was dark and dingy, wherever he was, and there were voices, familiar voices. "Draco?" Granger! "Draco it's Hermione Granger." "I know who you are, mudbloo...." but there was a severeness, even a danger in Granger's voice he'd never heard before. "Draco if you're just going to be an arrogant arse, then we'll take you back to the dark forest! Perhaps you can find the vampire who almost killed you so he can finish the job!" "Where am I?" "You're at a safe house." "How did you come by finding me?" "I didn't, Hagrid did." There was movement in one of the dark corners, and the over sized half-giant came lumbering to the foot of the bed. "Ye gave us a right good fright there, Malfoy. I came trampin' through the forest and found ye lyin' there, lookin' like ye was dead 'an all. Thought ye was dead, but I ran as fast as me legs would carry me, 'an brought ye to the Weasleys, 'an then Arthur brought ye here." Draco found himself torn. He'd always had a contempt for the half-giant, but now knowing that he'd saved his life, he felt the tiniest bit of gratitude. There'd never been any love lost from the giant on Draco's behalf either, but to think that he'd still shown enough compassion to bring him to get help. Granger spoke up once again. "Draco there are some questions we need to ask you. You're not going to like them, but we've got to ask them for your own sake." Draco tried to fain a sneer. "Then why are you going to ask them, if you know I'm not going to like them?" The severity in her voice was back. "Because if you don't answer them, you may still end up dead!" Draco tried to sit, but his body screamed in pain. "Don't try to move, you fool! You're not going to be going anywhere for a while. You have broken and fractured bones, and bruises that look horrid. Now, first of all, I need you to tell me what you were doing in the dark forest." An anger rose in Draco at such a stupid question. "I was getting ready to attend a sodding garden party, Granger! What do you think I was doing?!" "So, am I to understand you were hiding?" "Well, that's generally one of the only reasons one goes to such a place as the forest!" "All right, then how did you meet the vampire?" A sudden suspicion rose in Draco's mind. "How do you know I met a vampire?" "Oh Draco, honestly! Two bleeding holes in your neck, it's not really all that difficult to realize what happened!" Draco sighed heavily. He was growing tired of this game. His body felt like hell, his head was splitting, and he didn't even want to describe how his arse felt. "Look, Granger, since you've got me here, wherever my prison is, why not just let me tell you the story, instead of asking a thousand dull questions?" She eyed him suspiciously. "All right, but you must tell me everything." "Since you have me confined, do I really have a choice?"
For the next hour Draco explained the story of the previous night's events, Voldemort, his parents, flying to Hogwarts, the vampire. He told her everything. Granger sat wide-eyed with horror, even shedding a few tears on his behalf. He explained how the vampire had attacked him, how he'd willed Draco's body to do all the dreadful things he'd been forced to do. Though it shouldn't have surprised him, Granger had ripped a piece of parchment from a nearby bag, grabbed a quill, and started making notes. When he finished she sat chewing her bottom lip, "hmmmm-ing" a great deal as she pondered her notes. Draco began to become impatient. "Granger, are you going to sit there and murmur to yourself all afternoon, or are you going to be kind enough to let me know what the devil you're 'hmmm-ing' about?!" She jerked. "Oh, I'm sorry. It's just that vampire bites of the nature you've described usually kill." "What do you mean, they usually kill?" "Just that. Haven't you ever read in the library's magical creatures section about them?" Draco felt himself growing impatient and upset again. "Granger look at me. Do you see who I am? I'm a Malfoy! Have you ever known me to be interested in anything Hogwarts had to say about any subject?" Her lips curved into the smallest of smiles. "I suppose not." "Now, what's all this really about?" "Well, it really is just what I said. You should be dead. You see, vampires bite for three reasons, to feed from their mate, to kill, or to infect. The bite of a vampire who feeds from their mate will do no harm to the person bitten. A vampire who wishes to kill their victim need only to bite them. There is a magical curse in their bite, working almost like the bit of a venomous serpent. I was of the understanding that a vampire's bite was only reduced to infection if there'd been other blood spilled, before the bite that is." Draco sighed heavily at what he'd just heard as his mind replayed the early morning's events over and over. His voice hardly whispered when he answered. "There was other blood spilled." Granger's head jerked as she eyed him. "What do you mean?" "When the vampire first grabbed me I struggled and fought against him. That's what the bruises and blood on my wrists are from, but I bled somewhere else, somewhere much more intimate." Tears began spilling down Granger's face again. "Oh Draco, I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what you're remembering right now." His voice was almost inaudible. "No, you can't." They both stayed in silence for a great while. Finally Draco broke the silence with a question that burned inside him. "So, does this mean that I am a vampire?" Granger remained silent for a moment as she settled a compassionate gaze on him, almost a gaze of pity. "You're not fully transformed yet, but yes, you will become a vampire." "What do you mean 'become?' If I've been bitten, aren't I already?" "Transforming into a vampire isn't something that happens overnight. It's a process. Your body will have to adjust to the magic that's invaded it. You see Draco, most vampires prefer muggles because they have no magical resistance at all. They view them as easier targets, if you will. Because you are a wizard, we can't be certain what will happen, or how long it will take. There's no recorded historical precedent for this. For now we'll just have to watch and wait."
Though many within what they referred to as "The Order of the Phoenix" wished to hide from Draco the true location of his recovery, it didn't take him long to realize that he was at his great aunt Walburga's home, 12 Grimmauld Place. His first clue came when the ancient, shriveled elf called Kreacher came shuffling into his room, a look of distaste and revulsion on his face. "There is the half-blood creature created by the mixing of blood. If my poor mistress only knew what mud-bloods and other disgusting creatures were in her house!" Draco seethed with anger as the tiny elf shuffled around the bed with a tray of food for him. "That's enough from you, scum! Why don't you just buggar off!" The elf bowed low as he muttered. "Of course. Kreacher lives to serve his master, and to serve those his master wishes." Draco wanted nothing more than to squeeze the ancient elf by the throat until there was no life left in him, but his heart sank as he knew that the old elf was right. Draco was no longer the pureblood wizard he'd boasted so many years about being. Truth be told, he wasn't just a wizard any more at all. He was a grotesque version of a half-blood, half wizard and half vampire, and this made him resent the elf, and "his master" all the more, whoever they were. But who was the elf's master? The answer to this question came just a few days after Draco's arrival. He'd been spending some time paging through several books Granger had brought him to pass the time when Harry Potter came through the door. Draco tried to sneer as he looked up at the boy standing at his bedside. "Don't you know to knock before you enter? Didn't your precious Weasley family teach you any manners?" "Buggar off Malfoy! I've not the time for your bollocks. I'm just checking to make sure you're still alive." Draco attempted his most oily voice. "Well, as you can readily tell, I am still alive and in the perfection of health!" Potter was about to retort, but was cut short by another voice followed by a flaming head of red hair. "Hairy I meant to tell you...........Oh, hello Malfoy." Draco's heart jumped. Ronald Weasley, the one person he wanted to see least of all in the world. "Weasley." "You seem to look a bit better than you did when you first arrived. Are you feeling any better?" Draco's face turned crimson. He couldn't understand why, but there was something about Weasley's kindness that made him squirm, something about his seemingly genuine concern that made him feel guilty. But why? He'd hated Weasley since the first day they'd met on the train.
Over the next several weeks Draco felt a definite change in his body. Though his body didn't visibly change all that much, he seemed to think himself a bit paler when he stood in front of the mirror. Molly Weasley had nearly fainted the first morning he'd come down to breakfast. The others had had momentary looks aghast as well. It was only Ronald Weasley who'd simply murmured "morning Malfoy" through his mouthful of toast. Draco had attempted to eat his breakfast in peace, but had found it impossible as every time he looked up he was greeted with stares and goggling eyes. Finally in desperate frustration and impatience he'd thrown his knife and fork down and returned to his room. A soft knock on the door had followed later. Ron had eased through the door, the person Draco had least expected. "Draco are you all right?" His retort was bitter and hateful. "I'm just lovely Weasley. I'm enjoying the company so thoroughly, and I'm treated like a king. Why in the hell would you wonder if I wasn't all right?" Weasley had only replied softly. "Draco, when you came in this morning, your eyes were glowing. They were red, not the usual gray. That's what threw everyone off so." There were other changes to Draco's body. He found his senses heightened and augmented. He'd become most upset that first night he'd been awoken by the older twins whispering in their room four doors down the hallway. He'd smelled Mundungus Fletcher's foul breath from the disgusting tobacco he smoked the moment the oaf had entered the door a few days later. A few nights later he'd been awoken by the most wonderful smell he'd ever smelt in his life. The smell had filled the room for a few seconds, waning a bit as someone hurried down the hallway toward another room. He'd jumped from bed, hardly able to control himself, and rushed to the door to see who had passed. Even if it was Granger or Mrs. Weasley, they wore some wonderful perfume! But all he'd heard when he opened the door was "Ron are you all right?" "Yes Harry. Just had to get a drink. Sorry I woke you. Those damn floors creak something terrible."