The Savior and the Scourge

Chapter 7

Sunday evening Spike found his nephew in a back corner of the library staring blankly at a book. Casually he sat on the bench across from the boy and propped his head in his left hand – the fingers on his right hand idly tapped against the wooden table top.

"Can I help you Professor," Draco asked stiffly.

"Well you can drop the Professor bit for one thing, and call me William, or Uncle even."

"Uncle," the boy chuckled with a sneer, he looked the vampire up and down, taking in his short, slicked back blonde hair and black Muggle t-shirt, "as if I'd every believe you could possibly be a Malfoy."

William smirked, a perfect Malfoy smirk. "I've a portrait."

"Well I've never seen it," Draco sneered.

"'Course you have, in the attic gallery."

Draco's eyes went wide, "But how did you...Only the..." abruptly he snapped his mouth shut.

"Only the outcasts of the family are up there. Let me think," Spike said closing his eyes and leaning his head back, "Mum and me are in number fourteen on the left hand side. She's wearing her purple silk and I look poncey as ever in blue velvet. Am I still quoting badly written poetry?"

Draco nodded, still wide eyed, and pale. "But that portrait is over a hundred years old!"

"Yes it is."

"A-a-are you a v-vampire?"

Spike took a quick look around and made sure no one was nearby, "Believe it mate, but I'd keep that tidbit to yerself if you don't mind. I don't want the kiddies getting all skittish."

"Does Dumbledore know he's invited a vampire into the school," Draco asked, indignant.

"'Course he does, not much that man don't know."

His nephew snorted in disgust.

Spike frowned at the boy, "He may be barmy, and bleedin annoyin' most of the time, but he does know stuff lad. You'd do well to remember that, and respect it."

"Right."

"Well let's take you for example. Dumbles know that old Voldie has asked you to either kill the Headmaster or facilitate his murder, Dumbles words of course."

Now his nephew truly did look like a fish out of water.

A fish quickly turning pink.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," his whisper was strangled.

Spike lifted an eyebrow.

"Even if I did, do you think I would talk about it here," the boy hissed.

"Relax Draco, I'm not a complete nutter," the vampire held up a hand, flashing a silver ring on his index finer.

"Where did you get that?"

Spike was beginning to wonder just how many times a body could flush and then pale in a short period of time without passing out.

"You mother was kind enough to hand it over – it was mine after all."

"But no one's ever been able to wear that ring."

"'Course not. Mum had Dad make it for me so we could talk at parties and such without being overheard. Only the person I'm speaking directly to can hear me and only I can hear them. Anyone trying to listen in will hear sounds like whispering but not what we're actually sayin'."

"So Harry Potter could be sitting under this table right now with that stupid invisibility cloak of his and he wouldn't hear a word?"

Spike shot the boy a questioning look, "That's right. But what is it with you and Harry anyway."

Draco flushed again and looked down at the table, "I just don't like the wanker is all."

"Well you might want to try a little harder to get along with him."

"Why should I," the boy spat.

"'Cause he's family now."

Draco paled – then fell off his bench in a dead faint.

Spike stood up and leaned over the table to study his nephew.

"Ten minutes...I'm impressed. I thought surely the vamp thing would get him first."