Dark Angelus

Touch sends an electric current running from the spot being touched, straight to the brain like a heavy shock drilled into the senses, awakening different reactions in the body. A soft, light touch produces a low reaction that spreads out, lingers while a sharp prick of pain against say the neck produces another reaction entirely. Draco sat bouncing his knee in class, desperately trying to focus on the front of the class room where the very thoroughly dead history teacher, Prof. Binns was droning on about some great useless battle during the dark ages. He glanced around the room for what seemed to him like the billionth time, trying not to look at the clock hanging above the door. Blaise nudged his elbow, he looked down on his nails digging into his flesh. Blood was starting to puddle around his nails, he instantly let go of his arm, ripping down his sleeve and started tapping the nub of his quill against the wood desk, it made a light scratching sound as it hit, barely perceptible above Binns’ monotone. He glanced back at the ‘golden trio’ who were whispering heatedly back and forth to each other. He felt a snarl descend over his face but turned back around when he felt the overwhelming emotions rise to the surface once again. The Boy Who Should Die a Horrible Fucking Death because he didn’t have the right to be so lucky or pretty, oh, not to mention the fact that he had all the attention while Draco was nothing more than dog meat on a spit. The three Gryffindorks were nothing more than a distraction to him in all actuality. A way to get his mind off of other things.

The dismissal bell had much of the same effect as a gunshot before a race. The room was cleared in less than thirty seconds. Blaise had hold of Draco’s arm as soon as they cleared the classroom. The short rust red head yanked him down a side corridor, away from the milling student body and threw him into an empty classroom. Draco’s fellow Slytherin and best friend since they were born, paced before him, a look of deep thought on his round, gorgeous face. Draco looked away from the baby soft look of Blaise’s face, throwing himself to the window and looked down onto the green, lush grounds below.

“You could…you know…I mean, you know-“ Blaise stuttered out behind him.

“No, no,” Draco shook his head, his eyes fixedly unfocused on the green and blue blur before him. “I’ll deal with this on my own,” Draco hissed as he turned and pushed past his friend, disappearing out the door. Blaise took a deep breathe and then sighed, he would have to do something drastic pretty soon but he didn’t really want to know what that was.

“Are you around?” Draco knocked on Snape’s door to his office later that night after dinner.

“Draco? What can I help you with?” A very sincere and real look of concern on Snape’s more than pale features as he opened the door.

“I can sense them, I can’t figure out where they are though,” Draco burst out, collapsing to a near by seat.

“Here? In Hogwarts?” Snape asked, laying his hand on Draco’s arm.

“Yes,” Draco looked up into his most trusted mentor.

“Oh dear,” Snape murmured, a frown falling over his face.

“Vampyrs are here,” Draco growled, his voice leaving no room for argument.