Categories > Books > Harry Potter > A Place to Call Home

A Place to Call Home

by ttchaku 0 reviews

(AU) A vampiric Draco who finds himself with a new blood donor in Harry Potter must now face the challenges of Hogwarts anew and this time he has more than just himself to worry about. DMHP.

Category: Harry Potter - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Action/Adventure - Characters: Draco, Harry, Hermione, Ron - Warnings: [?] - Published: 2007-04-19 - Updated: 2007-04-19 - 842 words

A Place to Call Home
Prologue: A Warm Stretch of Land

Disclaimer: On the new book that just came out, did anyone see my name anywhere on didn't think so.

A/N: this is my first Harry Potter Fanfiction, so I'm going to try my hardest to make it the best I can. The first part is really short, but it'll get longer, this is just a prologue that'll set up the story. And I will say this once, but this is SLASH. If you don't know what that means, look it up, and please Review! Now on to the story...

Summary: (AU) A vampiric Draco who finds himself with a new blood donor in Harry Potter must now face the challenges of Hogwarts anew and this time he has more than just himself to worry about. DMHP.

A whole stretch of land was laid out before him. Unbroken and unmarked. Whole. He could see winding, little roads traveling into the distance and the mud-caked, thatch roofs of small houses dotting the countryside. He let the wind ruffle his slicked back hair as he peered down from his perch on the mountain side at the plump, rounding hills and weeping, shallow fields from above. There were petite flowers lining the pocket-marked dirt roads. He watched small dots-undoubtedly people-slaving away at keeping them weed free, and he smiled, his hard mouth, uncharacteristically soft in the light of the lustrous sun.

It was a fantasy land; a land for happy little girls and smiling diminutive boys who could spend their whole day baking in the radiant sun, letting their backs be caressed into a capricious warmth until they were lying in a puddle of liquid delight. The warmth of the sun encompassing them like a mother's embrace.

He wondered if he envied those children down there, playing contentedly with red balls or vibrant flowers. Twisting them chaotically into small crowns of Posies and Ladies-slippers, or laughing as they ran wildly after a ball tossed too far into a mucky ditch. They were innocent, carefree and joyful. Like the summer day they played in. They lived for each day, each moment as it was, basking in the knowledge that no matter what they did, how bad they messed up, there would always be a warm bed and a hot meal waiting for them at the end of the day. They had no regrets and no sorrows. They would never feel the pain of losing a loved one too early; they would never have to venture into unknown territories without a hand to guide them.

The boy, no, the warrior standing above them was as different from them as night is to day. He was lightly colored, blond hair and grey eyes, a lightly colored night, while they took their characteristics from their native country, dark in hair and eyes. A darkly colored night. The boy chuckled ironically at the thought, but soon quieted down when he realized that someone might have heard him. He quickly crept back into the under hang, remaining as silent as a hawk before it swoops.

The children below had heard him. They glanced around, trying to place the noise, but as always, no one thought to look up. Humans were always ruled by logic, even the illogical ones. In their minds, one could not go against the rules of gravity and so, to their petty minds it was impossible for someone to be above them.

The boy didn't notice a small child standing in a shady corner staring directly at him.

As the children went back to playing, he flipped downward and landed in a nearby tree; sitting comfortably in its branches. The boy sitting there among its leafy branches, nestled contentedly out of view, lived not for the day, but for life. He had no carefree loving days. Each day could be his last for all he knew. He lived his entire life in tandem, life, with death following close behind.

For that was the way of a vampire. One could not be considered alive, since they were dead in essence; their hearts didn't beat, and wasn't that the textbook definition of a living being? On the other hand, vampire couldn't be considered dead either, for their essential self was still here; they had thoughts, feelings, a soul, or a figurative heart, if one was poetic. So vampires existed in a continuum of life and death, birth and rebirth.

The boy knew all this and more. He was wise in all ways of vampires. When to sleep, when to disappear, and when to eat. He knew that now was the time for eating. It was instinctive and he liked to pride himself on not going into a crazed frenzy every time the urge hit him, instead he would bid his time and look for a suitable donor who would provide all his needs in one go. He knew all this and more...

Because Draco Malfoy, had been a vampire for a very long time.

To Be Continued...
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