Forbidden Union

Characters and world not mine, no profit made.



Sorry for the LONG LONG time between updates, been extremely busy. Just rediscoved the story & got fresh inspiration. kind of a strange chapter I know, but i thought it was important to understand how the vampire differs from the human, Hope you enjoy & review!



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Draco woke to an instant awareness of the room and the manor around him. Without opening his eyes he could feel every inch of his body with an acuity he had never before experienced. The heavy silk sheets caressed his naked form, winding tightly around his waist, resting gently over his right shoulder and buttocks and leaving his right leg exposed to the air. A large spider had made a dark corner its home, its life force a small but steady glow in the otherwise empty room. Extending his awareness Draco became aware that his mother and father argued quietly in their room down the hall, he could feel the hot acid of his mother’s anger and the cold unquenchable fire of his father’s belief. Further away & fainter to his new senses Carla still slept, sad and lost in her dreams. He could feel the house elves surprisingly strongly, five of them, separate but subtly linked, 2 were preparing breakfast, 1 tended the gardens in the grounds, the other 2 were attending to laundry. They were linked to each other and also to the human residents in a faint gossamer web of consciousness which Draco thought probably allowed them to anticipate and attend to their masters needs.



Slowly, still tasting and exploring the untapped reaches of his mind he had never before been aware of, Draco opened his eyes. Instantly an additional torrent of sensory information bombarded his consciousness. The cold grey light of pre-dawn filled the room, and under his amazement a small thought came to Draco that if the sun had been up he may have just passed out with sensory overload, because even in the half-light the room appeared brilliant. The heavy mahogany furniture glowed with an inner life; the grain of the separate sections of wood that went into their construction was instantly apparent and imbued with a deeper meaning. No longer was it just a pattern, pleasant to the eyes and pleasing to touch, but the true nature of the tree it came from, representing years of life and patient growth, the slow drawing up of water from the bowels of the earth through minute capillaries that now appeared as deeper red lines on the hard surface. Dragging his eyes from the wood Draco’s attention was instantly taken by the heavy dark gold silk sheets. The faint light in the room was captured and reflected back by the incandescent material, a million colours seemed caught up in each thread, and he realized only the overall impression was of gold, actually every shade and tone of colour was represented.



Slowly, trying not to let his attention be caught by every nuance of his well known but suddenly strange room Draco rose from the bed. The rug beneath his feet was thick, his feet sank into the luxurious wool, and every fibre ticked his sensitive soles. Unwilling to open his expansive wardrobe which contained many robes of various colours and textures Draco picked up the discarded back robe from yesterday, noticing as he did that it was not true black, which would have absorbed all light making it almost impossible to see, but just a dark combination of tertiary colours, reflecting light from the darker end of the spectrum. The material was a wool blend, at once soft and rough and Draco experimented, crushing the material in his fist, then holding it lightly and running his fingertips over it, feeling the different impressions created by the material. Suddenly the quality of light around him changed and instinctively he knew the sun had just cleared the horizon. His attention was again caught by the mahogany bed head, noting how the light changed the nature of the wood, the tree it had been remembered sun, it missed the slow warming, passing from east to west over thin fragile leaves and steady trunk.



The day was a series of discoveries and revelations. At one point he was aware of a house elf, letting him know his parents requested his presence for breakfast, but the creature’s bright concern failed to touch him. Some time later is parents found him; he could feel his mother’s horror and his father’s faint disgust but couldn’t understand them. Vaguely he remembered telling his father that although the portraits moved and spoke they had no life force, and that he would get more nourishment from eating the spider in his room. His parents left him then.



At some stage he found himself in the dining room. His fathers deep brown voice commented that at least he had made it to dinner. His mother said nothing that he could recall, but placed a plate of some dead animal and boiled plants in front of him. He tasted the animal, but it was long dead and all semblance of life and energy had fled the carcass. He spat out the barely chewed portion and told his parents so but couldn’t hold on to their reply.



However bad the dead creature had been it had awoken an all consuming hunger that Draco could not remember ever having felt. Hungrily his eyes turned to his parents and he realised they were fresh, he could feel their hearts pumping, the chaotic rush of blood though arteries, the slower flood through veins. He wondered how subtly different each type of blood would taste. Then a large glass was placed before him and his eyes were caught by the beauty of the ruby red liquid inside, his nose knew that it was not as fresh as his parents warm blood, but it would satisfy, and on some level he felt unwilling to puncture the clear skin of either his mother or father, or seek out the other human he knew hid from him in her room. The first touch of blood on his lips was heaven. He felt the person it had come from, a muggle, a scared and unfortunate man, he was drained from the wrist but kept alive, it had happened before and he felt physically weak and helpless. The mans fear added a pleasant sweetness to the brew, and Draco knew it was because even in his weakened state the body was burning reserves, releasing glucose into the blood in its fight-or-flight instinctive reaction to fear.



The next three days passed in a blur, Draco didn’t sleep; couldn’t. He was unwilling to miss any facet of the ever changing world around him. He wandered the grounds, feeling the living grass pulsing under his feet with satisfaction in the rich moist ground and the warm bright sun. He was aware of the elf sent to follow him, watching always from a distance, the smell of its fear deliciously rank. The whole world stretched towards the sun during the daylight hours, and at night the world of plants shrunk into itself, becoming small and dark and shadowy. The silvery light of the new moon was more then bright enough to make out every detail of a world Draco had lived in but never before been aware of. The manor grounds were large, and consisted of well manicured lawns, landscaped gardens, and a small grove of fruit and olive trees. The elves kept the gardens maintained, but to Draco’s newly opened eyes the chaos that was life was easily visible, the plants could be guided but not controlled, they grew as they would, constantly fighting the constrictions the elves placed on them Everywhere tiny animals made their lives oblivious to the larger animals that thought they owned the land. It was here that Draco made his first kill, not because he was hungry, but because he could, and because his body demanded the freedom of the hunt and the kill; to demonstrate that he was a creature of this land, and his life was part of the web. Forever he would remember, sometimes with disgust, sometimes amusement, but more often with pride and primal joy, the patient stalking of the small mammal, the feeling of elation as he held it in his hands, and the satisfaction of crushing the tiny animal in his mouth, feeling the bones crunch, his mouth full of fur and warm sweet blood.



After the 3rd day he found he was tired, and he lay, ragged and filthy, his robes ripped and matted, in a hollow between some trees. When he awoke his awareness of the world remained, but he was himself.