Fic: Breaking the Curse [NC-17] Bill/Draco

[gfeather]

Yes, you read the pairing correctly. About a month ago I did a big bounce when my anonymous posting of this actually got reviews. I was very nervous about this foray well beyond my usual comfort zone. Yes, it is slashy. Yes, it is vampfic. No, I can't believe I wrote it. Please, give it a chance.

I present to you...

Title: Breaking the Curse
Pairing: Bill/Draco
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Slash, blood play, rough sex, excessive plot
Summary: After his marriage falls apart, Bill feels stuck in a rut in the mundanity of his work in London. Just when he decides to return to Egypt, he recieves a letter that would change the course of his entire life.
A/N: This was written for the hp-vamp Free Range II Return of the Vampire Bunny challenge for the prompt submitted by jeannie81. I'm so thrilled you liked it. I was a bit worked up when I submitted this because it is first foray into both vamp fic and slash. I am now going to hide from the vicious plot-velociraptor that has been stalking me and trying to convince me to write more.
Word Count: 19 000



Bill Weasley slumped into his office chair and groaned quietly at the ever mounting stack of paperwork that threatened to consume his desk completely. It was certainly a downfall of working in the London branch of Gringotts. He had never had this much paperwork to file when he lived in Egypt. Come to think of it, his job had never been anything one could describe as tedious when he was in Egypt. He wasn’t quite sure what was keeping him in England these days. When his marriage of five years had disintegrated nearly a year ago, he had been determined to go back to the scorching sands of his second home. The only thing that had kept him from bolting at the time was some contract curse breaking work that Gringotts hired him out to do. As the most skilled Breaker on staff, Bill had the right of first refusal on just about anything that came in. It had been months, however, since he had been given anything remotely interesting to work on. He was the most experienced and skilled Breaker in the country, which would be an accomplishment in most places, but here was just depressing. There wasn’t much work for a Breaker of his calibre in England, so most travelled further afield where their talents could be utilized and challenged. Right now, he would give his left leg for a challenge.

This was the limit. He’d go down to the head secretary and pick of the transfer papers on his way back from lunch. He had to get out of here. It was a bit early to go for lunch, but Bill couldn’t bear to be trapped in his office any longer. Grabbing his worn dragon hide jacket from the doorknob, he glanced back at the office and shook his head. How could he have let himself be trapped in this dingy little hole for almost seven years?

Just as he was turning to leave, something caught his eye on the precarious stack of papers in his inbox. A letter written on a high grade parchment still sealed a bearing the Malfoy family crest. Picking it up, Bill turned it over several times. He had been out to the Malfoy estate twice in the past year. Draco, as new head of the family since his father’s conviction and imprisonment, had taken it upon himself to repair his family’s tarnished reputation. Since the fall of Voldemort, he had been systematically sorting through his father’s dark artefacts and surrendering various items to Gringotts and to a lesser extent, the Ministry. It was no secret that the Malfoys didn’t trust the Ministry and preferred to work through the privacy and security of the goblins. Bill had expected to be poorly received on his first visit, but was more than a little surprised when Narcissa Malfoy had informed him that he had been requested specifically. Malfoys only accepted the best, and according to the goblins, he was the best.

While not exactly the heart pounding excitement of exploring the tombs of ancient pharaohs, the Malfoy artefacts were interesting in their own right and certainly the greatest challenge to his skills in recent memory. Looking at the front of the envelope, Bill noted the letter was addressed specifically to him rather than to the bank. Curious, he cracked the seal and read the message inside.

Dear Mr. William Weasley,

I am contacting you with a private job of great urgency. This is not a contract through the bank, but a personal contract. The goblins have already been informed that you will be taking an as yet undetermined period of leave effective at noon today and have compensated them appropriately for the loss of your services. I will receive you at Malfoy Manor this afternoon at four. Accommodations will be provided for the duration of the assignment. Prepare yourself accordingly. Great lengths have been taken to ensure the secrecy of this assignment. I am trusting you to use discretion in this matter.

Sincerely, Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy

His eyebrows raised in surprise. Clearly something significant had been found for so much secrecy surrounding his assignment. It was also odd that the letter had been sent by Narcissa when he knew Draco was in charge of nearly all outside contracting. His earlier plans of filing for a transfer after lunch were put on hold. He would make arrangements to leave after this job. In the meantime, he apparently had some packing to do.
***

The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow on the gleaming walls of Malfoy Manor. Though it was a large and imposing structure, the delicate spring greenery and cheerful light made the house and grounds seem somewhat less forbidding. Bill arrived at the front gates dressed in his best professional robes, carrying a slightly worn suitcase. It was the only one he had in halfway decent condition and would have to suffice. The wrought iron gates with the elaborate M at the top parted, allowing him to follow the walk up to the house.

At the front door, he was greeted by two house elves. One immediately took his suitcase and disappeared, the other bowed lowly in welcome. “You is welcomed to Malfoy Manor, Mr. Weasley. Tizzy is taking your bag to your rooms. Milly is to be taking you to Mistress in the front parlour. She is having a tea for you. This way.”

The little elf scurried ahead of him down a long corridor and gestured to an open door. Not waiting for him to enter, Milly popped out of sight, leaving Bill at the entrance of a formal parlour. He knocked on the doorframe and stepped inside. Mrs. Malfoy stood as he entered, dressed immaculately in an elegant powder blue robe that trailed behind her as she crossed the room to greet him. She extended a well manicured hand to him and shook his delicately. Her smile was somewhat forced as she said, “Welcome, Mr. Weasley. I am pleased you have come.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy. I am always pleased when my work takes me out of my drab office,” he told her truthfully, noting the worried lines on the older woman’s forehead. “To what do I owe this invitation?”

Narcissa Malfoy shook her head. “Tea first, then business.”

She snapped her fingers and the table she had been sitting at filled with trays of sandwiches, pastries and a silver tea service. Conversation was kept to polite small talk while they ate, but there was a definite tension in the air between them. Still curious as to why she had contacted him instead of Draco, Bill asked, “What is your son doing with himself these days? He had mentioned some plans to travel when I was here last.”

The expression on the woman’s face made Bill wish he hadn’t mentioned Draco at all. Her carefully controlled expression of polite curiosity disappeared and was replaced by a very un-Malfoy look of sorrow. She gazed into her teacup for a long moment and took several deep breaths before speaking.

“I am afraid that Draco’s recent travels are the reason you are here. You see, he has been travelling through much of Europe and into Russia these past couple months. I had not expected him to return home for another six weeks, at least. However, yesterday afternoon he arrived home quite suddenly. He said he had been cursed and insisted I lock him up for his own safety. When I suggested calling a Healer in to see him, he became very agitated and started shouting that it wasn’t that sort of curse and a Healer couldn’t help him. I, myself, am reticent to bring one in as I am unable to contract them privately.

“This ultimately brings me why you are here. I could not think of anyone else I could bring in on such short notice that could be trusted with this matter. You have much experience with personal curses as well as cursed objects, and it is my hope that you might be able to determine what is wrong with my son and how best to help him,” Mrs. Malfoy explained, her calm voice wavering slightly.

It took Bill a moment to digest that information. He was here to break a curse on a person? It really wasn’t in his realm of expertise, though he had been cursed plenty of times himself while breaking into various locations in Egypt. Gringotts employed the very best of Healers and Medi-wizards in high risk locations, and he had spent his fair share of time in hospital recovering from curses he had failed to break. You didn’t get to be a top Breaker without bumps and curses along the way. That didn’t mean he had any more than a rudimentary knowledge of how to undo the curses he got hit with on himself. The worried but hopeful look on Mrs. Malfoy’s face was almost painful to look at.

“Mrs. Malfoy,” he began, “I am flattered that you consider my skills good enough to call me in to help you son, but I must admit that I am no expert in breaking curses on the human body. My expertise lies in non-living objects only. I will do my best to assist you, but I don’t know how much I will be able to help you.”

Narcissa looked back at him with such focused intensity that it was almost scary. “This is my only child. I will do anything for him. I accept your skills for what they are, and I know that it may become necessary to call in another expert whom I am unable to trust to secrecy as I am you. I am also very aware that Gringotts Curse Breakers are given supplementary training in the use and application of memory charms. While I will not demand you do anything illegal, I am not opposed to asking for your assistance in some of the greyer areas.”
“I see. Let us both hope that it does not come to that,” Bill replied, slightly taken aback.
She inclined her head slightly in agreement. “Yes. One must always hope for the best, while preparing for the worst.”

“Where is Draco now?” Bill asked after finishing the last of his tea.

Narcissa’s hand trembled slightly as she put down her own teacup. “At his request, I placed him in one of the secured holding rooms in the lower levels. He also insisted I take his wand, which I have put in a safe location. Let me show you to your rooms first. I do not know if you wish to change into different attire before seeing him. I do realize a more casual wardrobe is customary.”

Bill gave her a self depreciating smile. “Unfortunately, robes do tend to have a more limited range of motion.”

Mrs. Malfoy rose gracefully from her chair and guided him down three corridors, up a flight of stairs and down two more corridors. Despite having spent years navigating through dark, labyrinthine tombs, Bill wasn’t certain he would be able to successfully find his suite of rooms again. She told him to take as much time as he needed to get ready and to call for Milly to escort him to the main foyer.

Though he had expected that even guest rooms at Malfoy Manor would be spacious, it was still startling to enter the suite and discover it was at least double the size of his London flat. The sitting room was well appointed with fine, but comfortable furnishings, with large paintings on the walls depicting exotic sights from around the world. The bedroom itself contained an enormous bed with dozens of pillows and cushions and a luxurious silk duvet in midnight blue. A door led out to a wide balcony overlooking acres of well manicured gardens edged by a thick forest, bursting to life with pale green spring leaves.

Looking around, he couldn’t find his suitcase, but a glance into the walk-in wardrobe revealed his clothes had already been pressed and hung. He laughed when he saw the crisp crease pressed into his favourite denims, as he pulled them off their hanger. He quickly exchanged his robes for a more standard work attire of denims, a button down shirt and sturdy boots. Though he doubted he would need them for mobility reasons, it was such a part of preparing to work, he felt incomplete without them.

A brief trip to the loo revealed a bathroom that rivalled the Prefects bathroom at Hogwarts. The surfaces were all marble and gleamed in the glittering light of the large chandelier suspended over the enormous tiled bathtub. It was impressive. All his grooming products had been unpacked into the large mirrored cabinet over the sink and several fluffy towels and a bathrobe were stacked on a bench near the door. He still wasn’t certain how much he could actually do to help Draco, and consequently how long he would be staying, but Bill resolved to thoroughly enjoy the small swimming pool that was his bathtub while he had the opportunity.

Walking back through the rooms to the doorway, Bill glanced around, still taking in his surroundings. He had only been to the Manor twice before, and both times he had only seen the main entrance and corridors that led to the library. That much alone had been impressive. The more of the house and grounds he saw, the more overwhelming the place became. He couldn’t imagine this place with a small child in it, nor what it must have been like for Draco to grow up here. If this is what they had always lived with, it was no wonder that the Malfoys had a superiority complex.

Closing the door to the door to the suite behind him, Bill awkwardly called for Milly. The house elf appeared before him, bowed deeply and trotted off down the corridor ahead of him.
***

Narcissa Malfoy did a poor job of concealing the fact she had been pacing. She was usually a woman who controlled her emotions and anxiety well, but this situation seemed to be beyond her considerable self restraint. She said simply, “This way,” and strode through a long, door less corridor to a winding staircase at the end.

At the bottom of the staircase, there were several corridors branching out in all directions. There were no paintings or tapestries on the walls down here, only clean white walls and polished wood floors. Mrs. Malfoy turned down the left-most hallway and continued to walk briskly without talking. There were only a few doors here made of simple, polished wood with little to no ornamentation. Clearly this was a part of the Manor that was not on display to the public.

Nearing the end of the hallway, Narcissa stopped at the second to last doorway and turned to face him. “Mr. Weasley... Bill... I don’t know what you will encounter in there, but I do not wish to go in with you. Though he would not tell me what has happened, I am quite fearful that whatever it is could be dangerous to more than just Draco. Please be careful. So you are not surprised, the room at the bottom of the staircase has a locked and warded cell. I trust you are familiar with the standard locking and warding spells I have used. I locked him in there at his own request. Tizzy has been down to bring him food and only told me that he was agitated and professed not to be hungry. I am afraid I can give you no more information than that. The password for both entry and exit of this door is dragon fire. If you have need of me, send Tizzy. She has been given access to this chamber as well.”

Bill nodded. Still looking the picture of a society woman on her way to a formal evening function, Narcissa Malfoy walked unhurriedly down the hallway and disappeared up the stairs. Bill looked back at the plain wooden door in front of him. He had no idea of what he was going to encounter through that innocuous looking door. With wand in hand, he whispered the password and slowly opened the door.

Immediately through the doorway was a small landing and a narrow set of stairs. There were a few wall sconces that sprang to life as he entered and shut the door behind him. His boots seemed to make an inordinate amount of noise on the stairs as he descended into the dimly lit room below. Before he had a chance to look around the room, a voice yelled and metal clanked at the far end of the room. Bill automatically sent out a stunner, only to have it fizzle out on the wards surrounding the cell.

Increasing the level of light in the room, Bill saw what had made the sound. A very pale, very dishevelled looking Draco had thrown himself at the bars of the cell and was struggling against them. He was somewhat shocked when he noticed the struggles were actually having an effect on the reinforced metal as it shifted and rebounded with each blow from the blonde’s pounding fist. For several minutes, Bill simply observed the frantic behaviour of the younger man, mentally running through all the various curses he had been hit with and trained to identify. Physically, he could see no obvious signs of anything he was familiar with in Egypt, though that wasn’t entirely surprising. Beyond the frenzied attempts to escape, he didn’t yet have much to go on.

After a solid ten minutes of out of control rage, Draco seemed to lose steam and slumped to the floor, letting out a pitiful whimper that was most un-Malfoy like. Bill approached the edge of the wards and crouched down to the other man’s height.

“Are you in control enough to tell me anything?” he asked.

Draco groaned, “I told mother not to send for anyone.”

“Actually, she told me you only asked not to send for a Healer. I’m certainly not one of those,” Bill said calmly.

“No point anyway,” the blond said, shaking his head dejectedly, “there’s nothing anyone can do.”

“What were you hit with?”

“A death sentence.”

Bill gave the younger man a confused look. “How so? Explain what happened.”

“I was too curious and too cocky and went someplace I had no business going,” Draco said morosely.

“Quit being cryptic and start talking. I didn’t come here to play word games and riddles,” Bill told him bluntly.

Draco sighed and slumped further against the bars. “I was just stupid. I heard some guys in a bar in Russia boasting about vampire baiting and before I knew it I was taking a stupid dare. I should have just let it go, but I got my pride up about it. I deserve everything I’ve gotten.”

“You were cursed by a vampire?!” Bill asked, shocked.

“No,” Draco said ruefully, “I haven’t been cursed by a vampire. I’ve been cursed with vampirism.”

Bill was puzzled by this. “Is that all? I mean, it isn’t something one goes looking for, but it is entirely treatable.”

“What are you on about?! Entirely treatable! In what fantasy world? I am less than six hours from death. There is nothing anyone can do to stop that. I hardly call that treatable!”

“Yes, well I didn’t mean that aspect was preventable, but with proper training it is entirely possible to live with... or not-live with vampirism. Locking yourself down here isn’t the best way to go about it, however. They have facilities at St. Mungo’s specifically for new vampires. I’ve seen them.”

“I know they exist, but that’s not the point. I’m not going to St. Mungo’s!” Draco paused for a moment, having worked himself up considerably. “When did you see them?”

Bill pointed to the scars that marred his face. “When I was in for these. I was still in hospital during my first full moon and the staff was still unsure what was going to happen. The werewolf containment facilities are down the same corridor as the vampire care rooms.”

“Oh hell. Another in the long list of my stupid mistakes,” the blond muttered.

Bill only shrugged. “I got over it long ago. I’ve learned to live with that part of me, too, but I didn’t do it alone. Why won’t you go to St. Mungo’s? If you are only a few hours from dying, why are you in here?”

“Because my plan is to die. Completely. If I wake up and there is nothing to feed on before sunrise, then it’s over.”

“Why? Do you want to die? I could think of some better ways to go about it if you do,” Bill said in annoyance.

“You don’t get it, do you? Of anyone, I would have thought an oldest child would get it. The dead can’t inherit. The dead can’t procreate. The dead are dead in the eyes of the law, whether or not they keep walking around. In a few hours, the last of the Malfoy line will be dead, whether I get back up and start walking around again or not!” Draco shouted starting to lose the control he had managed.

Draco began pacing his cell again, shouting inarticulately and pounding on the bars. It seemed his body was in a greater state of agitation than his mind, however. Steal grey eyes looked out at him sadly while his body railed and lashed out. It took a little longer this time, but when his body could no longer maintain its fury, the blond slid down the bars, laying his face on the cool metal. When he spoke again, it was soft and weak. “It’s the waiting that is the worst part. I would have done myself in if I was capable, but I tried three times before I came home. My survival instinct kicked in every time. If I’m here, I can just let nature take its course. The time must be getting close. My fits are getting worse.”

Bill shook his head. “Do you really think there is nothing after this? You’ve been trying to rebuild your reputation and now you’re just going to throw it away. I don’t think you’ve thought this through very well.”

“What’s the point of a reputation if you can’t pass it on? Unlike my father, the family name is what is important to me, not my own. Mother and I could have quite contentedly lived out our days here with no concern for the outside world, but that would be the end of it. I wanted to make the family respectable again, but there isn’t much point if the family ends with me.”

“Did you want the family, or did your mother?”

“What do you mean? Of course I wanted it.”

“Really? I think you forget that I’ve been in that place before. My mother was so enamoured at the idea of a grandchild. ‘Pass on the family name,’ she said. From the day Fleur and I married she was always asking when we were going to have kids. When the war ended, she was forever commenting on how wonderful it was that so many people were starting families. I heard it enough and I thought that I thought I wanted it, too, but I didn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“From the beginning, Fleur and I had promised to wait at least a couple years before starting a family, partly because of the war, but mostly to have time for our relationship to become stable. By the time two years had passed, there were already weak spots in our marriage. Fleur saw them first, I think, but it didn’t take too long before I did as well. But there my mother was, always pushing and part of me thought it would be a great idea and bring us closer together. Just when I had almost talked myself into telling Fleur we should try, I caught her cheating on me. I was upset and confused and depressed, but my mother’s voice kept saying, ‘have a baby. That will make things better.’ We didn’t separate for nearly a year after that, but I realized that the family had always been my mother’s idea. I’m proud of my family and I love them, but it wasn’t me who was so desperate to pass on the name.”

“And the fact you have so many other brothers doesn’t lessen your obligation somewhat?” Draco asked sarcastically.

Bill shook his head. “Obligation shouldn’t have anything to do with it. A child is a life, not an heirloom. Besides, there are ways of passing on the family name without passing on your genetics.”

Draco shook his head in exasperation. “Not if you happen to be dead. I know for a fact that vampires cannot legally adopt. They seem to think the dead make poor parents to the living.”

“Who will know?” Bill asked with a mischievous grin.

“You’re suggesting I check into St. Mungo’s, and you have the gall to ask who would know. Everyone would know! That’s why I didn’t want a blasted Healer in the first place. Every case they deal with regarding non-human beings is entered into the public record. It’s the law and one that I know no Healer will ignore, no matter how large the payout. The risk is too great for them,” Draco said, his voice rising in volume and his body beginning to shake slightly.

Not wanting to send him into another fit of rage, Bill used his most soothing voice. “Calm down and look around. In this room, in this basement, who, besides you and I, will know you have died and become a vampire?”

Draco looked at him agog. “In this room, in this basement there is no one who is going to feed me when I wake and I will starve to complete death in less than ten hours.”

“Not if I do it.”

“You will not!”

“Why? Are you so lacking in ambition that you are going to let something like vampirism get in your way? Are you that ready to die tonight?”

“I told you that-”

“And I’m giving you a way around it. Though I don’t think it was quite what your mother intended when she kidnapped me from work today, she asked me to do what I was capable of to help you. This is what I am capable of. We both know there is no way to stop what is about to happen, but there is a way to deal with it.”

“Mother stole you from your job?”

“Close enough. She informed the goblins I was going on leave for an undetermined amount of time, paid them for the loss of my services and insisted I pack a bag so that I can stay here until you are well again. It’s not quite what I expected when I went into work this morning, but at least there’s no paperwork.”

Draco laughed. At first they were small burst of incredulity as he shook his head in disbelief, but quickly they became full, body shaking guffaws with tears sliding out the corners of his eyes and down his cheeks. In the dim room, locked in a cell it looked almost as if the man was utterly insane and, for a few minutes, Bill thought he might be as well. He had essentially just said that becoming the first meal to a fledgling vampire was preferable to the paperwork he had back at the office. The sad part was, upon consideration, it was preferable. Bill allowed himself a small chuckle and waited for the other man to regain his composure.

When his mirth died down, Draco looked at him seriously. “I cannot see how someone who speaks of shirking familial obligation is prepared to do such a thing as part of their employment. How much is she paying you?”

Bill shook his head. “I don’t know. To be perfectly honest, she was so completely distracted by your ‘curse’ that we hadn’t discussed the matter of payment at all. I also didn’t know how much assistance I would be to you, since I had no idea what the nature of the problem was.”

“She didn’t take care of the business end of things first?” Draco asked, incredulous.

“No. She tried very hard to maintain her calm exterior, but barely made it through tea. After that, she told me what little she knew and I came down here,” he explained calmly.

“How much are you going to ask her for? I will not see my mother taken advantage of over this,” Draco said imperiously.

“Until you mentioned it, I hadn’t thought about the money at all,” he informed Draco simply.

“Then why are you offering this?”

Bill shrugged. “Because it’s the only solution I can come up with. Because it seems like the right thing to do.”

“And if this doesn’t go well?” Draco asked, facing Bill and meeting his eyes. “I don’t know anything beyond the fact that I will need to feed my first night. I have no idea what that will be like.”

Though he felt some apprehension about what he had just offered to do, Bill did his best to ignore it and teased, “Concerned for my well being?”

“Bloody irritating, self sacrificing Gryffindors,” the blond muttered.

“There is a rather extensive library on all manner of subjects upstairs,” Bill observed. “I may be making a huge leap here, but I’m going to assume there is more than your standard field guide to magical beings up there. There are still a few more hours until sundown. That’s enough time for some speed reading.”

“And a blood replenisher?”

He nodded. “A good idea. Your mother keeps a full store of medical potions, I trust.”

“Or will see anything you need acquired for you,” Draco stated confidently.

“Good enough. Are we agreed on this, then?”

Draco sat back and leaned his head against the wall, staring off into the blackness of the ceiling. While this was a far cry from a dirty torture chamber he might once have imagined existed beneath Malfoy manner, it was not a particularly pleasant room either. It was clean, but utterly barren except for the cell. There were no chairs, cushions, benches or mattresses of any kind in here. If Draco was planning to die, this hardly seemed the ideal conditions to do so under.

The blond closed his eyes and clenched his fists, sighing heavily. “Yes. I suppose we are agreed. There are too many possibilities and not enough time to explore them otherwise.”

“Good. I’ll take care of the arrangements then, shall I?”

“Obviously, as it is unsafe for me to leave here,” Draco drawled.

Bill only grinned and called for Tizzy. While he didn’t have nearly as much firsthand experience with Draco as his two youngest siblings had, he recognized a classic Malfoy drawl when he heard one. It was somewhat of a relief to hear more of his personality resurface. When the house elf appeared, Bill instructed her to make a comfortable resting area on the floor of the cell, but not to bring a full bed or frame. He also told her to bring Draco some fresh clothing as well as some comfortable pyjamas. Tizzy disappeared and Bill nodded once before leaving the room.

Once upstairs, Bill called for the other elf, Milly to guide him towards the library. Once they arrived at the enormous book lined room, the little elf shifted from foot to foot then asked, “Will Mr. Weasley be attending supper? Mistress is wanting to know.”

He shook his head. “No. I have much to do in a very short time. I would be very grateful if you would bring me something to eat here. Also, I will need access to some medicinal potions shortly. Where does Mrs. Malfoy keep them?”

“Mistress is not keeping the medicine. We elves is. What is you needing?”

“I’m not entirely certain just yet. Do you have a list of what is available?”

The elf bobbed her head in agreement. “Tad is being in charge of that. He is having a big list. Milly will be bringing it when she brings Mister’s supper.”

Before Bill could say anything else, the elf popped out of sight, leaving him alone in the library. It was more than a little overwhelming searching through such a large library, but he hadn’t been Head boy for nothing. Thankfully, the books were organized by subject matter. Skimming through the shelves, he passed titles that were obviously Charms or Potions or History. Nearing the back the books became less benign and he uncovered much more promising titles. Howling at the Moon caught his eye, but he passed it by, not allowing himself to get sidetracked. Further down the shelf was Magical Beings: A guide to their uses and weaknesses which he thought might contain something useful, though it wasn’t quite what he wanted. At the top of the next shelf was an old, leather-bound book with no title. It looked out of place, more like a personal journal than a published book. Pulling it off the shelf, he opened the soft leather cover and read, Living in the darkness: My experiences in the Vampire communities of Eastern Europe by Wurther Rothschild.

Jackpot. Bill sat down on the leather armchair by the fireplace at the back of the room and began flipping through the journal. The initial dozen or so entries were not particularly earth shattering, but did provide some insight to what a community of vampires behaved like. While wizards often affected superiority over other magical beings, it was his experience that most of the time there were very ignorant of what actually went on outside of their own limited little world. Still, he didn’t have time to take in all the nuances of a vampire kiss. There were more pressing matters. Skimming through the narrow script, he was nearly to the middle of the book when he found what he was looking for.

Tonight I was witness to one of the greatest mysteries of the vampire community; the birth of a new vampire. As I have learned, contrary to most wizards’ assumptions, it takes more than a simple bite to contract vampirism and it is not a common thing for a community to create a new member. It is a rare thing for a random attack to result in the turning of a new vampire.

Three nights ago, one of the longest standing blood donors, Ivan was given the opportunity to join the kiss. He accepted eagerly, dropping to his knees and presenting his neck without fear, as he has often done in the past. No fewer than six vampires drew blood, each from the same wound site. When the man was nearly completely drained, the Master of the kiss laved the wound with his tongue savouring him as one would a fine wine. Then, piercing his own flesh at the wrist, he brought his bleeding wound to Ivan’s lips and commanded him to drink of the essence of the night. Though near collapse, he drank greedily until the Master commanded him to stop. He was told he would need much rest and was escorted into the deepest cellars where he would be secured and kept safe over the next three days.

I did not see him again until tonight. The kiss Second, a daywalker, escorted him to the main hall where myself and the few other humans were partaking of what passes for breakfast in my life these days. Ivan was told to watch the sun set through the large westward windows in the hall. He appeared at turns restless and utterly at peace, alternating between pacing and standing motionless before the windows. The rest of us ended our meal and watched as the sun dipped below the horizon.

The change was sudden. Ivan gave an agonizing cry and collapsed to the floor, writing in pain. Had it not been for the many other vampires that appeared in the hall with the onset of darkness, I might have rushed to him, though I know there was nothing I could have done to ease his discomfort. The hall was ringed with the members of the kiss, watching as their newest comrade’s life ended. It was surprisingly clean, for all it was agonizing. I myself had expected it to be a much bloodier, messier affair, but then vampires I suppose are more civilized about things like death than wizards are. When the cries ended, Ivan lay motionless in the centre of the room. The Master’s second came forward and picked him up. He was lain on a padded bench by the windows while the other vampires passed by, caressing his fingers or cheek as he lay immobile. It was evocative of a funeral rite, but was meant as a welcome, not a farewell.

Once all had been to touch Ivan, the usual feeding rituals were observed. All but the new First donor were fed upon, myself included. As best I can tell, nearly two hours passed before Ivan began to rouse. The new First donor rose immediately and presented himself to Ivan. It was startling to see the way he lunged at the First, piercing the skin quickly with his new fangs and gulping desperately at the wound. However, after the first dozen or so gulps, the frenzy left him. His brow smoothed and the feeding became more calm and controlled. I understood then why the new First had not been fed upon that night, even by the Master. Ivan required a much larger feeding his first night. The First would not have been able to recover had he fed any others. My best guess it that Ivan drank about two litres of blood. The First was pale and dizzy when it was finished and the Master himself thanked him personally before he was escorted to his rooms to recover.

When the First had left, the Master tore Ivan’s robes from him and dressed him as the other vampires. Ivan kissed the Master’s hand and thanked him for his new life. The Master put his hand upon Ivan’s brow and welcomed him to the kiss. All the other members gathered around and touched in greeting before going about their nightly activities. When I saw Ivan again later that night, he was fully cognisant and pleased with this evening’s events. I asked what he remembers of the change, and he said only the setting of the sun and waking with the need to feed. I am relieved that he has no memory of the agony of death, or at least does not admit to having any.

Bill went back through the entry once more, reading carefully so as not to miss any details. Was this the typical experience? Although it sounded difficult to watch, for the most part the process seemed straight forward. He would definitely need a blood replenishing potion and most likely a painkiller of some kind to be taken after. Marking his place in the book, Bill looked up to discover dinner had appeared on the coffee table in front of him without his having noticed. On the tray was also the promised list of medicinal potions.

Thankful that his meal was simple and practical, rather than the complex meal he was certain was being served to Mrs. Malfoy, Bill picked up a roast beef sandwich and ate it while perusing potions he might need. In the end, he decided to request two different pain potions, a calming draught, blood replenishing serum and a vitality supplement. If he needed anything else, he could always send for it now that he knew what was on hand. For the time being, he would need to tell Mrs. Malfoy something convincing to keep them from being disturbed until Draco was in control enough to leave his secured room. With a flutter of anxiety in the pit of his stomach, Bill pocketed the journal and left the library to prepare for what was to come.
***
Arriving back in the confinement room in the basement, Bill was pleased to see Draco dressed in fresh clothing and neatly groomed once again, even if he still seemed very agitated. The elves had laid a comfortable looking mattress in the corner of the cell complete with soft cushions of all sizes. When Draco noticed Bill’s return, he stopped pacing and gripped the bars, as if to hold himself in place.

“Is it all arranged?” he asked anxiously.

Bill nodded. “I found a very useful resource in the library and have a fair idea of what will happen tonight. I haven’t yet looked beyond tonight, but there will be time for that later. I told your mother that the initial diagnostics and preliminary treatments for your curse could take several days to complete and require quarantine, so she will not disturb us. I hope that will be enough time to recover from the initial transition.”

Draco took a shaky breath and nodded in return. “I hope. Did you settle the arrangements for your monetary compensation?”

“Your mother offered some ridiculous figure, but I told her the previously arranged Breaker’s fee would be sufficient. She disagreed, but was pacified by increasing the pay by ten Galleons per hour. I don’t intend to accept it, but it seemed better to agree with her for the time being since we are rather pressed for time,” he explained.

The blond shrugged and sighed deeply, “She doesn’t do business like this well under pressure. That’s why I’ve been handling most of the financial dealings. She’s consumer minded, not business minded. I suppose she could have done worse.”

“She’s worried about you, Draco,” Bill said gently. “Now, do you want me to tell you everything that’s going to happen? It might make the waiting worse.”

“Forewarned is forearmed. What did you find out?” he asked, reclining against the ridiculous amount of cushions and attempting to hold himself still.

Bill quickly removed the cell’s locks and wards and slipped inside. Once within the bars, he replaced the spells and moved to sit beside the agitated wizard. Draco gaped at him, but wasn’t able to form words before Bill flopped down easily on the cushions beside him. “We might as well get comfortable. It’s going to be a long night.”

Briefly recounting the entry from Rothschild’s journal, he explained what was expected to happen and pulled out the book for Draco to compare his own initial encounter. There were some similarities, but they ended entirely with the technicalities of the biting and draining itself.

Draco looked at him sceptically. “I’m not so convinced that the biting ritual itself doesn’t affect the change. This account is of a willing person under controlled and planned circumstances. Perhaps being drained by force doesn’t allow for control. It isn’t wise for you to be in here with me.”

“And if something does go amiss, it’s easier for me to deal with in here with you. Though intent has a great deal of influence on the outcome of a spell, the underlying structure has a defined result. It may not happen exactly as the journal describes but it’s only one source and the best I could do on short notice. It’s better than having no realistic idea of what is about to happen,” Bill stated calmly.

“I could rip you apart with my bare hands!”

“So could I. Perhaps not as easily as you, but I can hold my own.”

Vaulting back to his feet, Draco paced, tugging his fingers savagely through his shoulder length hair. He didn’t shout again, but paced more frantically than he had earlier that afternoon. It was nearly sunset. Standing up, Bill leaned against the back wall and quietly asked, “Do you want to watch the sunset?”

Draco looked back at him, incredulous. “What?”

“It seemed like it was something important. It may be your last opportunity to do so. Do you want to?”

The agitated blond shook his head. “It’s best if I don’t leave this room. It’s almost time.”

The pacing stopped suddenly, and Draco stood utterly still, hardly even appearing to breathe. Time seemed suspended in the small, dimly lit room, the air heavy with anticipation. Bill startled slightly when Draco gasped loudly and collapsed to the floor, writhing uncontrollably. There wasn’t a chance to ease the other man’s fall, nor anything he could do beyond watching and waiting.

Somehow, the cramped words written on the pages of an old journal didn’t really express the violent reality of the change. As described, there were no messy bodily fluids, but the tortuous contortions Draco’s body went into were painful just to watch. The loud, incoherent screams made the twisting form on the floor a horrid thing to behold. While in St. Mungo’s during the first full moon after his attack, Bill had sat in one of the containment units and watched two other men take the shape of the wolf that his own body struggled to do, but could not. It had been wrenching to watch them, but the transformation was over in under a minute. This transformation, however, was an eternity in comparison. The vocalizations did not diminish in volume, though they did become hoarser, and the spasms continued to be large and violent.

Then, as suddenly as it began, it was over. The body in front of him was completely limp and motionless. Cautiously, he knelt down and checked for breathing or a pulse. Their absence was entirely expected, but still a touch unsettling. The body of Draco Malfoy didn’t feel dead to his senses. He could sense the undercurrents of dynamic, living magic moving beneath the surface of the skin, quite unlike any other dead body he had previously encountered. Bill moved the limp figure to the mattress and arranged him comfortably. Whether or not it made a difference, it did make a part of him feel at ease. The most difficult part of the evening lay ahead of him. Waiting.

Bill flipped through the Rothschild journal impatiently while Draco lay motionless on the mattress beside him. He had stripped his shirt and taken a partial dose of blood replenishing potion in anticipation of a bite, but there was little else he could do while he waited. There was plenty of interesting and potentially useful information in the journal, but as time passed, it was difficult to focus on what he was reading. He kept glancing over at the pale, fragile looking young man beside him, expecting him to stir at any moment. It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant sensation, however. The adrenaline of anticipation was part of what Bill had loved so much about exploring tombs in Egypt. It was exhilarating and challenging and made him feel alive. This wasn’t quite the same, but the emotional undercurrents were reminiscent.

Though he found himself distracted, Bill did manage to glean a fair amount of information about vampire society. He was surprised to note that most of the members of Rothschild’s Hungarian kiss were squibs. It seemed, the vampire community there was in the practice taking in those wizarding society preferred to ignore. Three werewolves were well respected blood donors and there were intermittent dealings with a group of hags that lived near the outskirts of their territory. As best he could tell, the only vampires who had previously been wizards, in a kiss numbering nearly thirty, were two referred to as ‘the daywalkers’ and the Master of the kiss himself. Likewise, among the donors Rothschild himself was the only one capable of wielding a wand and most of the time he did not carry it. Vampires themselves were capable of a variety of magic all their own that did not discriminate between those who were born wizards and those who were not.

While contemplating this, Bill glanced at his watch to see that close to three hours had passed. There hadn’t been so much as a twitch from Draco, and his anxiety was beginning to turn to concern. He brushed a hand across the blond’s forehead. The pale skin was surprisingly warm to the touch. Somehow, he had expected a vampire feel cool under his fingers. There was still so much he didn’t know and it made him uncomfortable.

Bill traced fingers along the sharply defined bones of Draco’s face. Normally relaxation softened a person’s features, but his were almost more pronounced, more angular and harsh without the personality animating them. For all he had a reputation as being intolerant and demanding, Bill had seen the underlying concern behind it during his dealings with the man. He was striking in appearance, bold in his dealings with the world as a whole and an intimidating presence, but there was an undefined quality to him that Bill found he liked. He hoped that wouldn’t be lost in the change.

There was a small sound, almost a whimper, and Draco leaned his cheek into the hand caressing his face. Then he drew in a sharp breath and shuddered. Bill withdrew his hand and shifted back slightly. Draco took several gasping breaths then opened his eyes. Blinking several times, he sat up, quickly scanning the room before focussing in on Bill. There wasn’t any sign of recognition in the eyes that watched him intently, only a hungry look quickly followed by a sudden shift of bodies.

Pinned down, Bill gasped as sharp incisors pierced the skin of his neck and felt the reverberation of Draco’s groan as the first taste of blood hit the new vampire’s tongue. Initially, there was nearly no control or technique as blood was gulped down greedily, slurping at a missed trickle and sucking so forcefully it felt to Bill as if he was trying to pull blood from the tips of his toes. Quickly, however, the frantic feeding slowed. A tongue darted out to collect the warm liquid spilling from the wound and rolled it around his mouth before swallowing. He hummed in pleasure, savouring a few more mouthfuls before purposefully licking the puncture wounds and sealing them.

Draco pulled away from the recumbent redhead and sat up, breathing like he had just been chased ten miles by a hungry dragon. He turned to Bill, blinked, and said, “Thank you, Wolf.”

Bill tried to sit up, but felt dizzy and flopped back onto the pillows. “Are you alright, Draco?”

Draco leaned in closer, his lips and cheeks flushed. He peered at Bill curiously. “I am satisfied. Are you well, Wolf?”

Bill’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “Draco?”

The blond blinked, shook his head slightly and looked at him with recognition. “Wolf... uh... Bill. That’s it. Are you okay?”

“Just a little dizzy,” he replied nodding.

“Where are your potions? I’ll get them for you.”

“Tizzy has them.”

The apprehensive house elf appeared in the cell, clearly still worried about being there after trying to deliver food earlier in the day. Draco asked for the potions Bill had set aside and with a pop she returned with a small box containing several small bottles, handed it to Draco, and disappeared again.

“What do you need right now? The blood replenishing potion for certain. How about a pain reliever?” he asked, sorting through the bottles of coloured liquid.

Bill shook his head. “Just the blood replenisher, and maybe some revitalizing serum.”

Removing the lids to two single dose bottles, Draco brushed aside Bill’s slightly unsteady hand and tipped the contents into his mouth. Both took effect quickly and Bill propped himself up with several pillows and looked closely at his companion. He looked like himself again. “How was it?”

“The change? Quite honestly, I don’t remember a thing. Was it like the journal said?” Draco asked curiously.

He nodded. “It looked every bit as painful as described, if not more so. You didn’t wake for nearly three hours, either. How do you feel?”

The new vampire pondered this for a moment before answering. “Calm and very awake. I don’t feel particularly dead.”

“Well, you are breathing and you do have a pulse.”

“But will I at dawn?”

Bill shrugged. “I was able to read some more. From what I can tell, the ones Rothschild calls daywalkers were wizards, but none of the others. There is a good possibility.”

“We shall see.”
***

Bill stayed awake with Draco all night. For a while they discussed Draco’s changes and tried to find answers to the myriad of questions he had. Bill was still curious as to why Draco had called him ‘Wolf’ when he had first awoken, but the blond couldn’t seem to find words to explain it. He shrugged it off as odd, but unimportant. After a few hours of rehashing the information they had on vampires, Bill called for a chessboard to pass the time. Both agreed that, while Draco felt calm and in control at the moment, it would be best to wait at least another night or two before leaving the underground room, if for no other reason than to have the opportunity to find answers to some of the big questions they still had.

As dawn approached, Bill yawned widely and stretched in the chair he had conjured for their chess game. “You should probably dress for bed. Whatever happens at dawn, I’m sure you’d rather rest in something more comfortable.”

“Will you stay?” Draco asked with a slight nervous quaver.

“I had every intention of doing so. I’m almost as curious as you about what will happen at dawn,” Bill said calmly.

Draco shook his head slightly. “No, I mean after. Will you stay with me here during the day?”

“I’ve been awake nearly twenty six hours now,” Bill stated with a wide yawn, “taken three full doses of blood replenishing draught and a revitalizing serum. The only reason I haven’t collapsed is because I have enough potions floating around my system to keep me upright. If I’m going to spend another night awake with you, I’m going to have to sleep sometime.”

“You could sleep here,” the blond said anxiously.

Bill frowned slightly and looked closer at his companion. Draco seemed to shrink under the gaze and looked away mumbling, “I just don’t want to be alone, alright.”

He nodded. “I can understand that.”

Both men prepared for bed, Bill left for a brief trip to his rooms to grab a quick shower while Draco stayed behind and made due with the enchanted ewer and basin Tizzy had brought down earlier that afternoon. Bill returned to find Draco looking freshly scrubbed and dressed in black silk pyjamas, moving restlessly around the cell. It was the sort of nervous anticipation he remembered well from his first full moon. The transformation earlier that day had been dramatic and unsettling, but it had been a known situation. Certainly they had both still had some uncertainties about specifics, but in their perusal of the Rothschild journal in the hours following Draco’s waking, they had not been able to find a definitive answer as to what would happen at dawn. It seemed Mr Rothschild, for all his time spent with vampires, had never actually been with one at dawn. All that had been written were a few rather useless comments about vampires being particularly sensitive about their privacy in the predawn hours.

Draco’s energy seemed to be waning fast, yet he was also unable to sit still. It wasn’t in any way like the distraught behaviour he had exhibited prior to sunset, but still unsettled. Bill slipped back inside the cell and returned to the pile of cushions and pillows he had been using earlier as a seat, flopping down exhausted. His lips quirked in a half smile. “You know, a little closer to the full moon I would have had more energy for an all-nighter. I’m used to only getting a few hours of sleep then.”

“We pardon me for not selecting a better lunar phase for getting attacked and infected with vampirism. I’ll try to pay more attention next time,” Draco returned testily.

“I’m just trying to lighten the mood a bit. I’ve been where you are, not sure of what’s going to happen. Sometimes humour, even poor humour, can take the edge off,” Bill commented, shaking his head in exasperation.

Draco sighed and perched on the edge of the mattress, one leg jiggling with nervous energy. “I’m not particularly well known for my sense of humour. At least not jokes at my expense, no matter how benign.”

“We always used to joke around when things got too serious at home, especially when there were arguments. Most of the time it helped to diffuse the tension.”

“What did you do your first full moon?”

“I sat starkers in the containment facilities of St. Mungo’s with two other blokes who had been bitten during the previous full moon and were about to change for the first time. We were all separated, but we could see each other, and we sat there huddled, waiting for the moon and trying to keep whatever dignity we could. Still, we were stuck in there from about 3 hours to moonrise, so eventually we started cracking jokes. They were a bit strained, but you do what you can to take your mind of things.”

Draco nodded, his shoulders slumping and eyes drooping. “I’m exhausted, but I want to hold on, not go to sleep to prove I can.”

Bill glanced at the watch he had left by the chessboard. “I’m not certain when exactly sunrise is, but it was already starting to get light when I was in the shower. I doubt we have more than a few minutes to wait.”

Flipping through the Rothschild journal without really looking at any of the pages, Draco occupied himself as Bill’s watch ticked slowly. After his earlier attempts at light hearted chatter were rebuffed, Bill chose to remain silent and leave the restless blond alone with his thoughts. It was a struggle to keep awake, though the shower had perked him up for a brief while.

The mindless page flipping stopped abruptly after a few minutes and Draco groaned, “Ugh, bloody hell.”

“Draco? Can you still hear me? Are you still awake?” Bill asked the wizard slumped over at the edge of the mattress.

“Dawn is like flying full speed into a wall. I don’t think I’ll be staying up for this often,” he mumbled grumpily.

After turning down the covers, Bill moved to assist the listless vampire into bed. “Well at least we know you can be awake, even if it is unpleasant.”

Draco grunted in a tone that could pass for agreement and crawled under the duvet, shivering slightly. “’m cold.”

“Do you want an extra blanket?” Bill asked, smoothing the covers.

A chilled hand grabbed his. “You’re warm, Wolf.”

His brow furrowed for a moment and he pursed his lips. There it was again, almost an endearment this time. Draco tugged his hand again and mumbled something incoherent. Bill sighed. “You want me to warm up the sheets then?”

“Mm-hm,” Draco grunted softly, nodding his head against his pillow. “Keep me warm, Wolf.”

Bill detached his hand from the rapidly chilling vampire’s and slipped under the covers on the other side of the mattress. Draco, sensing the heat, wiggled backwards until their bodies were just touching and sighed. There was another mumble of unintelligible sound then everything was quiet and still.

He lay for several minutes awake, listening and watching the man beside him. When it was apparent that his companion was deeply asleep, Bill shifted onto his elbow to make a brief examination. The vampire’s skin was chilled to the touch, but still felt very much alive under his fingers. His breath had slowed dramatically, however. It took very close observation to even see the faint movement of his chest, no more than two or three times a minute. Searching for a pulse took several minutes, but eventually he felt the slow, almost lethargic pulsing, though it wasn’t beating more than eight to ten times a minute. Still, the signs of life were definitely there. Despite his exhaustion, Bill lay awake for some time pondering the events of the past twenty-four hours and wondering just what his part in all this was.
***

Breaking the Curse Part II