A Vampire's Soul

Yay!! Finally getting to the good stuff! At least I think so. :) I've been eager to get this chapter up ever since I wrote it. So, here it is and enjoy! Next update will be on Wednesday as usual!

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A Vampire’s Soul, chapter twenty-two

Pairings: Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione, slight Harry/Ron, Harry/Remus, Harry/others, other male/male

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Vampires, so there’s blood mentioned; violence; death; Slash; slight Het, multi-partners, and a touch non-con but not really. ALSO, there will be a few OCs, only because I need them for the story/plotline, but Proudfoot is a name mentioned in book six, I just don’t know his personality.

Words: About 4,510

Notes: There’s Original Characters in the fic, and I apologize. Harry’s role in the Daywalkers’ world is growing, thus there needs to be Daywalker characters (as well as other Werewolves).

More notes: Another kind of vampire will reveal itself soon. I couldn’t think up my own name to call it, so I borrowed a name from another show (just like I’m borrowing things from Dracula, et al). I won’t say anymore, because I don’t want it spoiled just yet.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its characters, nor do I own anything from Dracula or from any other show. I do own all the other characters in this story that isn’t in the Potter books.

Chapter written: June 24th, 2007

.-.

There were many search parties out looking for Harry, and somehow Harry had managed to elude them all.

It didn’t surprise Rufus Scrimgeour. He was known as one of the best trackers out of all the Daywalkers, next to his Sire, Neal; if he couldn’t find Harry, what chance did the others have?

But he wasn’t going to give up. He’d found a Muggle father and his daughter camping, and the way the man’s daughter looked all signs pointed to Harry being there. He had asked him questions about what happened, and when the Muggle man had described Harry and how he brought his daughter back to him, saying that some monster had attacked her, Scrimgeour knew he was hot on the trail.

He could tell that Harry’s soul was still salvageable; if Harry was a lost cause, he would have drained the girl dry, and would either Turn or eat her. You never knew what those soulless beasts wanted to do after they finished draining their victims. Sometimes they were still hungry afterwards, depending on the victim’s power and energy levels, and sometimes they were satisfied and left them to die or Turned them into one of their own.

Rufus was about to call it a day and go back to the Ministry when he noticed that the moon was rising. Damn, it was time for all the werewolves to either hide or come out and wreck havoc; depending on which pack they were from. Things were not going to be pretty.

An idea struck him after a gust of wind blew by. Without thinking on it much, he transformed into a wolf and used his senses as best he could. He knew the scent of his Fledgling, but with the poison running through his veins, dulling the main scent, it was harder to track. He caught other smells on the wind, both known and unknown. Some he knew to be werewolves, some were other Daywalkers, probably the search party. He could sense that most of the werewolves he smelled were grouped together, most likely looking for a place to barricade themselves in before the full moon sets high in the sky.

But there was another scent of werewolves in the air, and it brought a shiver down his spine and through his bones. Those werewolves didn’t want to hide; they wanted to find fresh victims to bite and kill. He had a bad feeling about this.

.-.

“Lupin, stop!”

“What is it, Severus?” Remus asked, coming to a stop. They were still on the search for Harry, which wasn’t going very well at the moment. Draco was looking worse for wear, and he had no idea how much longer they had before Harry became a full-fledged soulless creature.

Without a word, Snape pointed to the sky. Remus looked up, and then felt his heart constrict in his throat. The full moon was rising…

“Here!” Snape bellowed, thrusting a large goblet of Wolfsbane potion into Remus’s hand. “Drink!”

Remus obeyed without question. He’d been drinking the stuff for the past week, thanks to Snape, but Snape obviously wanted to be safe than sorry, so Remus drank the last of his potion.

“Shouldn’t we be running for our lives?” Draco asked, shaking madly.

“We just need to find a place for Lupin to stay for the night,” said Snape. “Come, Lupin—potion or no potion, I don’t wish to be around you for longer than need be.”

The moon was having a fierce impact on Remus; he wrapped his arms around himself, shivering, eyes going funny. Knowing the look, Snape (with the help of Draco) rushed Remus to the nearest cave he could find. In the Black Forest, there were bound to be many of them. Luckily, they found one, and Snape wanted to just push Remus in and block the passageway with a boulder, but decided to mind his manners this one time, and helped Lupin inside the cave. He made sure that there was a comfortable enough place in the cave for Lupin to lie down, and then pulled out shrunken things from his pockets. They turned out to be things from Remus’s place: his favorite bone, a piece of torn cloth from the werewolf’s makeshift bed, and some pieces of raw meat.

“I hope this is to your satisfaction, Lupin. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we will be outside, where there is less considerable danger.”

Curled in a ball in the corner of the cave, Remus rocked back and forth, shivering. He said in a low, tense voice: “I want Harry.”

“Well, he’s not here,” said Snape as kindly as he could. “So you’re going to have to cope with it.”

“Harry…” Remus whimpered. He squeezed his eyes shut, bits of moisture seeping from the corners. Snape looked up and sighed dramatically.

“I’ll try to find him, all right? But I doubt he’ll be in his right mind to help you handle your monthly beast.”

Remus looked up, and the moment his eyes locked on Draco, they glowed. Draco backed away in fright.

“Why’re you looking at me that way?” Draco demanded.

“You—you’re the next best thing I have,” said Remus, voice scratchy. “Stay with me, Draco…”

“And get eaten or turned into a werewolf? I think not.”

“Draco… you smell like Harry…” Remus inched closer to them. They both backed away. “Stay with me…”

“Sorry, Lupin, but it’s too dangerous for a normal person to be around you right now,” said Snape. “Petrificus Totalus!”

Remus became stiff as a board. Snape moved him back to his corner, and he quickly ushered Draco out of the cave. “That should hold him until he transforms…”

With a flick of his wand, Snape lifted a nearby boulder into the air and set it in front of the cave’s entrance. Just in case, Snape did a Colloportus spell to seal it together.

A few moments later, the full moon was up. The unmistakable sounds of Remus Lupin transforming could be heard within the cave. Frightenly enough, they could hear other sounds of howling in the distance. Draco shivered.

“We’re in the midst of a horde of transforming werewolves. Please, let’s get out of here!”

“The safest place we can go right now is Castle Dracula.”

“THAT is safe?” Draco bellowed.

“I didn’t say it was safe, I said it was ‘safest’. Let’s go.”

.-.

Meanwhile, Nicholas was also getting his soul mate, Proudfoot, locked away for the full moon. He’d just got the key in the lock when he heard the beginning of his beloved’s transformation. He double checked the door to make sure it was securely locked before walking away.

He didn’t want to walk away; on the contrary, he wished he could stay and make Proudfoot feel better, but he knew he couldn’t. If he was near Proudfoot while he was transforming, he was a dead man. Well, deader than he was now. Proudfoot wouldn’t care that he was his soulmate, as far as he knew; he would tear into him and destroy him. The thought of what Proudfoot would do to himself if he ever killed him, his soulmate, was unthinkable. Nicholas would gladly suffer through the separation from Proudfoot to keep Proudfoot from hurting himself as well as him.

“Greyback’s clan is on the prowl,” said Patrick. “I just got word from Neal that he spotted some of the pack near one of the safety huts.”

“Does Lilith know?” Nicholas asked.

“I assume she does,” said Patrick. “Because when she heard about the full moon rising, her and her friend, Ruby, ran out of here like a shot.”

“Yes – although we’ve joined forces with Lilith’s clan, it would still be unwise for her to stay here during the transformation. Does she have a place to go?”

“I think so. Either that or she’s planning to meet Greyback’s clan and fight them.”

“That would be crazy,” Nicholas said, plopping down on one of the chairs warily. “I don’t think she’d risk her clan getting hurt in a stupid stunt like that.”

“You’re right.”

Lilith and Ruby had left the castle the moment they realized that the full moon was about to rise. Friends with Vlad’s clan or not, they didn’t want to risk killing or being killed, so they took off to one of their safety huts for the night. They would place some very tough enchantments around it first before locking themselves in. Lilith and Ruby had been together for the full moon before, so they weren’t worried about tearing each other apart. The last time they were together for the transformation, they had woken up the next morning curled against each other. They only bore a few scratches, but Lilith guessed it was from when she was making sure she showed Ruby that she was still in charge.

While Nicholas sat and tried to deal with his soulmate’s first transformation since they’ve been together, Vega was lying in his own bed in his room, curled in a fetal position, feeling sick and wishing he could die right then and there.

.-.

The full moon above shined brightly over the Black Forest. Many werewolves from Greyback’s clan roamed the forest, looking for fresh meat. The scent of other werewolves, some Daywalkers and Muggles, was in the air. Fenrir Greyback howled triumphantly when he smelled innocent blood and charged full-force through the trees. Soon, he came upon the river and began to follow it. His clan followed him, also following the scent on the trail. Greyback’s gruesome jaws were wide-open, foam flying from his lips, yellowing teeth razor-sharp, and tongue lolling out as it dripped saliva everywhere. As the scent of fresh meat drew nearer, so did the call of nature. Greyback stopped at a tree, which smelled oddly familiar, and lifted his leg.

Many different howls rendered the air, some from werewolves and some from Daywalkers in wolf form. All of Lilith’s clan were hiding or locked up, except for one lone pup that had accidentally gotten herself stuck in the forest when the full moon rose. She frantically tried to search for her pack, but it was to be in vein. Too many smells, too much danger in the air—it was driving her insane. She found the river and started to follow it, thinking that they must be following the fresh scent of meat there, but instead of her pack, she found Greyback and his.

Another sort of nature called to Greyback when the young pup entered his line of sight and smell. The she-wolf cowered, backing up against a tree as she became surrounded. Greyback howled, letting them all know that he was still head wolf, and that the pup was his to take. His pack backed down without a fight. The she-wolf whimpered in fear, but she knew what was going to happen. It was either that, or fight, and she was a horrible fighter.

She surrendered, raising her rump high in the air. Greyback sniffed her for a while, and then licked her. She didn’t protest, even when he mounted her. The rest of the pack watched, some going into heat because of it. From there, it resulted into a werewolf orgy. After Greyback was finished with the she-wolf, he let the others take their turn.

.-.

“Jim! Jim! We’ve got to get out of here!”

Jim, who’d been another camper that was with the old man and his daughter (they’re long gone, off to hospital), was there with his younger brother, Dirk. He was surprised to see his brother waving his arms about madly, looking as if he’d seen a ghost.

“Whoa, hold on there,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

“Someone else…” panted Dirk. “Someone else had been attacked, and it wasn’t pretty!”

“I could call the police…”

“Forget the police,” said Dirk. “We’re going to need a doctor! Or better yet, a mortician! The guy’s dead, Jim.”

“What?” Jim gasped.

Unbeknownst to them, Harry was silently lowering himself from a tree branch behind them, upside down, hands outstretched. Jim just stood there, staring blankly at his brother, trying to comprehend what he was saying.

“It’s just like with that old man’s daughter, isn’t it? What is out there that’s—AAAAHHH!”

Before Jim could turn around to see what Dirk had just screamed at, he was grabbed by very strong hands and hauled up into the tree. Dirk continued to scream, which annoyed Harry so much he waved his hand at him, and Dirk suddenly had no voice. Scared out of his wits, Dirk ran for the campground.

The Muggle, Jim, was too petrified to scream or say anything for that matter. Harry was glad, because that just made his job easier. He stared into the Muggle’s eyes, and the Muggle went limp. Harry’s fangs grew abnormally large and, eyes glowing vibrantly in the moonlight, he embedded them deep within the man’s neck.

Right below Harry’s tree were three werewolves, sniffing the ground. They’ve scented Muggles. Without a sound, the leader of the three took off toward the campground where Dirk had run.

Harry did sense them, but thought nothing of it as he sucked the Muggle nearly dry. The monster in him wanted to take it all, but something in the back of his mind, some very small voice, told him not to. He wasn’t sure why, but he obeyed it anyway, and the Muggle fell back against the tree, still on the branch, unconscious.

A howl pierced the night, and Harry looked up, senses on overload. It was a werewolf… wait, there was more than one… wait, there was more than just werewolves!

‘It’s the search party,’ thought Harry, remembering what Sanguini had told him. He didn’t panic; he stayed in his tree, testing his surroundings, careful to not make a sound or sudden movement. When four more werewolves passed by his tree, Harry arched an eyebrow. His eyes followed their movements; they were headed for the Muggle campground. Well, too bad for them. What was a Muggle campground doing near the Black Forest anyway? Wasn’t there supposed to be enchantments around the forest that made it so that the Muggles wouldn’t come near the place?

No matter. It wasn’t Harry’s problem. What was his problem was that he wanted more blood. He could secretly follow the werewolves and get more Muggles to eat—er—drink, but he didn’t want a confrontation with them.

His senses suddenly picked something else up on the wind. It was a familiar scent too. If HE found him, there was no telling what would happen . . . he’d probably get his freedom taken away from him. He couldn’t let that happen.

The small voice inside him stopped him from transforming into a bat. He wasn’t sure why; it wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before. He rolled his eyes at his so-called conscious and jumped down from the tree in wolf form. His jet-black fur blended in well with the darkness around him, and he disappeared into the shadows.

.-.

Snape and Draco finally arrived at the entrance of Castle Dracula. Draco was shaking visibly, but not as bad as he was when he knew there were werewolves surrounding them. Snape had always had a feeling that Draco’s worse fear was werewolves; it was no wonder he hadn’t taken Lupin kindly during his third year when he found out about him.

Taking hold of one of the knockers on the door, Snape knocked three times. The door opened by itself, scaring the daylights out of Draco so much that he jumped and hid behind his professor.

“Calm yourself, Draco,” said Snape gently. “We’re here for Potter, and from what I’ve heard, the head vampire likes Potter.”

“I hope you’re right,” squeaked Draco.

Slowly, cautiously, they entered the castle. Once they were over the threshold, the giant door slammed shut behind them. Draco leaped into the air again and wrapped his arms tightly around Snape’s shoulders, nearly climbing him. Snape let out a small grunt, mainly from irritation, and pried Draco’s hands off his person.

“Get a grip, Draco,” he sneered.

“S-sorry, professor…” once Draco’s eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room, he was surprised by how elegant and wizard-like the inside of the castle looked. He couldn’t help be in awe of it all as he stared. Snape was in awe as well; some of the relics in the castle were thought to be rare or even one of a kind. Still, he grasped Draco’s wrist and led them slowly through the castle. Where was everyone?

“Who goes there?” someone called from the shadows. Draco leaped into Snape’s arms in fright. Snape huffed annoyingly, setting Draco down almost immediately.

“I am Severus Snape,” he announced. “And this is Draco Malfoy. We’re here for two reasons—and they ARE important.”

The Daywalker revealed himself. His hair was peppered, although his face didn’t show much age, and he seemed a bit underfed. He wasn’t that handsome, yet there was some sort of sexual allure about him.

“What importance do you have to visit the castle on a night like this? Don’t you know that there’s a full moon out?”

“That was one of the reasons why we’re here,” said Snape courteously. “We wish safe haven away from those mongrels.”

The Daywalker seemed to be fighting a smile, but then his face was a blank again. “Very well,” he said. “I shall take you to see my master.”

Snape inclined his head politely. “Thank you.” He nudged Draco, and Draco started, but understood right away and bowed too.

The Daywalker looked pleased when they showed their respects, and led them to the throne room.

“What is your name?” Snape asked. Well, he introduced him and Draco; it was only polite that the Daywalker introduce himself as well.

“Just call me Oberon,” said the Daywalker. He glanced back for a moment before returning his eyes forward. “I don’t like werewolves.”

“Ah,” said Snape, now understanding why Oberon was about to smile when he called the werewolves ‘mongrels’.

Oberon knocked on the throne room door, and then poked his head inside. Snape and Draco didn’t know what he said, but they didn’t mistake the sound of the head vampire’s voice as he said, “Enter.”

They were ushered inside. Draco stuck close to Snape, grasping his bicep. Snape let him, understanding that it can be very daunting to be in the presence of the head vampire.

“Welcome,” said Prince Vlad. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“We’re here for two reasons. First and foremost, it’s to get away from the werewolves outside. The other reason is because of Harry Potter.”

Prince Vlad’s eyes flashed. “Ah, yes. Have you found him?”

“No,” said Snape, shaking his head. “Sadly, that isn’t so. We were hoping you knew where he was.”

“Alas, I do not know either,” said Vlad. He stood from his throne and slowly walked over to where they stood. Snape immediately bowed, and when Draco saw this, he followed suit. “I have two search parties out there looking for him.”

Snape’s mouth twitched. “Two search parties?”

“One doesn’t seem to be enough,” said Vlad, sounding a touch impressed. “Anyway, perhaps it’s good that you’re here; we could use as much help as possible. I am not so proud as to not ask for it, especially during the full moon. I have just joined forces with Lilith’s clan of werewolves; unfortunately, she and her friend had to go because of the moon, and lock themselves away.”

“We just had to lock away a friend of ours as well,” said Snape.

Vlad stared at him for a moment, and then nodded. Snape felt unnerved, since he couldn’t tell if Vlad was using Legilimency or not, because he couldn’t feel anyone trying to penetrate his mind. It was like Vlad was staring into his soul.

“You are friends of Harry’s?”

Snape coughed into his hand, and Draco looked at the floor, cheeks pink.

“In a way,” grounded Snape.

“And who was it that you had to lock away?” Vlad asked, although he had an idea of just who it was.

“Remus Lupin,” said Snape easily.

“Of course,” said Vlad. “He is very dear to Harry; it is too bad that Harry isn’t in his right mind right now, otherwise he’d be there to comfort Lupin.”

Snape sneered, knowing what Vlad said all too well. He was starting to notice how much Prince Vlad seemed like Dumbledore.

Prince Vlad suddenly turned to Draco. “And you, Mr. Malfoy? What is your association with Harry?”

Draco looked as if he wanted to hide behind Snape again; he opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally replying: “H-he’s my soulmate.”

The room went eerily quiet as Vlad stared. When Vlad spoke again, his voice was deeper and more poised. “So, it’s true.”

Draco nodded, not sure what to say.

Suddenly, Vlad spun around, his cloak bellowing behind him as he quickly made his way toward a door on the opposite side of the room. Snape and Draco followed, guessing that that was what they were meant to do.

They followed Vlad down the hallway—moving portraits watching them as they went, whispering to themselves or their neighbors—until they stopped in front of another door. They wouldn’t have known it to be there if it hadn’t been for Vlad stopping in the front of it and grasping some kind of handle behind a tapestry. He threw it open, and then beckoned them to follow him inside.

It was the weapons room. Without a word, Prince Vlad handed them both a crossbow that was loaded with five silver arrows each. Draco’s face fell when it dawned on him what they were about to do.

“Sir?” he said in a strangled voice. “Head vampire, sir?”

“Please, call me Prince Vlad.”

“Right. Prince Vlad? W-what… what are we doing with these?”

“Protection,” said Vlad.

“But, I thought we were staying here!” Draco gasped. “We’re not going to go out there, where there’s a horde of soulless vampires and a ton of blood-thirsty werewolves!”

“We must find Harry,” said Vlad in a no-nonsense tone. “It is of the utmost importance.”

Snape realized the significance of the situation, even though he didn’t like what was being proposed.

“Prince Vlad … is there a reason why we’re going to risk our necks for Potter? I know that we must find him, but couldn’t it wait until morning, where there’s no full moon?”

Prince Vlad loaded his own crossbow and cocked it. “We could, but now that we have the perfect cure for Harry, there’s really no need to wait.”

“Cure?” said Snape. “What cure?”

Vlad’s gaze cut to Draco. Snape followed.

Draco’s eyes widened, gulping nervously.

.-.

If it weren’t for the shift of wind, he’d have never caught the scent. As the trail grew hotter, the faster he ran, panting. He had caught other smells crisscrossing over his path, but he paid them no heed. He couldn’t lose the scent now; it was imperative that he found his elusive Fledgling.

Then, in his line of vision, the sudden familiar black outline of a giant, shaggy wolf was there, standing between two large, overgrown trees. The moment he scented him, he lifted his head. Two bright green eyes shone in the dark shadows, and when he realized who it was that found him, he did the last thing Rufus thought: he ran for it.

‘No!’ Scrimgeour screamed in his head. He gave chase. He couldn’t afford to lose Harry now. He pushed himself to the limit; he felt the burn of pain in his legs and slight twinges on his paws from finding sharp objects on the ground, but that didn’t stop him.

When Harry finally thought he’d give Scrimgeour the slip, he started to slow up. That was a mistake. Scrimgeour caught up to him faster, and the wind carried his scent with him, making Harry jerk in surprise and fear to have smelled his Sire again so soon. Once more, Scrimgeour gave chase. He wasn’t sure how much longer Harry was willing to play this game, but he hoped that Harry wouldn’t get wise and transform himself into a bat.

As luck would have it, there was something to make Harry stop in his tracks. Unfortunately, it wasn’t something pleasant; it was a pack of werewolves.

Almost immediately, the werewolves attacked. Instinct kicking in, Scrimgeour threw himself into the fray to help Harry. The four werewolves already looked as if they preyed on some people, but he couldn’t dwell on that thought at the moment—he needed to get his Fledgling out of there!

However, it seemed that the werewolves had miscalculated their prey. Harry had sunk his jaws into one of the werewolves’ hind legs, and before the werewolf could get away, Harry had snapped it in two. The werewolf yelped in pain and limped off to get away from the fight. The other two werewolves pounced, trying to outnumber Harry, but Scrimgeour got hold of another werewolf’s leg and tried to do what Harry had done, but this werewolf was stronger than he thought, and he got thrown off like a rag doll.

The act had incensed Harry, and he charged the werewolf that had thrown his Sire and sunk his teeth into the werewolf’s neck. The other werewolf leaped onto Harry’s back, trying to bite back. When it got its jaws around Harry’s hunches, Scrimgeour stood and pounced, pushing it off Harry. He fought with the weaker werewolf as Harry fought with the stronger one. It took a while, but finally Scrimgeour got the upper hand, and had the weaker werewolf running. It took a lot of energy from him, so all he could do was lay there and watch Harry fight with the leader.

All of a sudden, moonlight hit Harry in the face, illuminating the red scar on his forehead, making the werewolf recoiled. Somehow it seemed to have realized just who it was it was fighting. Harry took the advantage and rushed the werewolf, knocking it off its feet. The werewolf had suddenly turned chicken and ran off.

Panting from the aftermath of the fight, Sire and Fledgling stared at each other. Harry’s eyes gleamed menacingly, but Scrimgeour wasn’t intimidated by it. Slowly, he inched closer, and Harry stood there, panting and glaring. Scrimgeour knew, just as he was sure Harry did, that the jig was up; he couldn’t run away anymore.

At the same time, they transformed back. Scrimgeour closed the distance between them and, very gingerly, wrapped his arms around Harry’s shoulders—one was bleeding from the wound the werewolf made.

“My Fledgling,” Scrimgeour rasped. “I’ve missed you.”

Harry’s eyes flashed, the monster in him telling him to flee, but he couldn’t—he didn’t know why. He stayed rooted on the spot and let his Sire hug him, but he didn’t hug back. They weren’t hurt too badly, but the weariness from the fight was inevitable. Harry couldn’t help leaning his head on Scrimgeour’s shoulder.

“Sire…” Harry croaked.

“Harry,” Scrimgeour whispered. “You smell like death.”

TBC