Malfoys Don't Bite

Chapter 3: Temptations

(asdfgklljkfskhd i haven't read the books or watched the movies in a while,,,i think i need to reread. i might mess up some facts so i'm sorry if i do)

Draco Malfoy's visits to the prefect's bathroom were getting more and more frequent.

He was always feeling overwhelmed...and powerless, enticed by that sweet, sweet smell that has been tempting him for days. Even just thinking about it makes his fist clench, his face pale and his eyelids would sooner get heavily lidded and darkened with lust.

It was torturous for a.... creature like him, really. He hadn't even had the slightest idea on how he came to be this way until...well, just a few months ago.

"Draco. What's wrong with you? You seem tense and ready to bite at anyone who comes your way."

Draco looked up at his mother, who was feigning innocence and was playing stupid. But her eyes say anything but. They were concerned; those eyes that looked exactly like his ones.

"Come here, Draco sweetheart." Narcissa Malfoy patted the space on the velvet sofa beside her, moving a fraction so that her son could sit beside her.

Draco hesitated, unsure if he wanted to talk to his mother and share whatever shit he had on his mind and spilling out whatever he felt. And he had been distancing himself from people in the house; locking himself in his room and tried to block out everything from his senses, trying not to lose his sanity as people–no sometimes they weren't people, most of them were house-elves–would occasionally walk by his door but never knock. Maybe they sensed the young master's distress and decided not to disturb him.

Draco only came out of his room at mealtimes, and he wondered why food tasted so bland nowadays. He once enjoyed the taste, the rich flavours gliding over his tongue and making him ache for more but he had to watch his table manners, but the food really didn't sit well with him. Maybe it had to do with his stress.

So it was a surprise to Draco when he descended the stairs from the second floor and saw his mother sitting atop the velvety sofa in their large living room, drink in hand, her eyes pinned on Draco's. Everyone had supposedly went out of his way for one month but he guessed that Narcissa would put an end to that. Typical of her.

Draco tried not to look distressed as he was and headed towards his mother sitting just beside her. Immediately, that fucking smell that he couldn't figure out what was, filled his nostrils and an urge to kill suddenly bled into him.

No, Draco thought desperately, digging his fingers into the soft cloth of his finely crafted green and silver cotton shirt. Keep your calm.

And alas, he did. His mother usually spoke with a cold, icy tone that distinguished her from others, even when trying to bribe Draco.

But her tone today was different: soft, loving, and understanding.

"Please control your urges to bite me or anyone who smells of blood. I'm going to talk to you for just a little while and you can go back to your room later on. I'll tell the house-elves to serve you in your room."

Draco's grey eyes widened. She knew. And I'm dead.

But...Draco never knew that it was blood that he was craving for. All he knew was that aching, longing feeling stirring in his chest and the....tempting thought to bite down on skin....

Suddenly, everything made more sense now.

"What are you talking about?" Draco forced a dry chuckle as his mother looked sadly on. "I told you already, I'm beaten and stressed from all those exams and I just want to rest this summer vacation–"

Narcissa hushed him with her finger and Draco stilled. His mother wasn't dumb nor stupid.

Draco slumped down on the couch defeated. He nodded his head, ushering for his mother to go on.

"Malfoys don't bite, my dear," Narcissa said quietly, finishing off the last of her drink and using her wand to suspend the empty glass in the air just a few inches above the floor so that a random house-elf could just grab it. "But you... you're an exception."

"What makes me so special that I need to drink blood to live?" Draco demanded, unable to breathe.

Narcissa pursed her lips and chuckled. "You're quite right there. You have heard of many myths about vampires. Most of them aren't true, dear."

"Like what?"

"Like that strange misconception that vampires swoop on every person they can get and suck the blood out of them until they drop dead. No, it doesn't work like that."

"Why do you know all of this? Are you a vampire too?"

"No, I am not, I can assure you. But I had a...friend once. A vampire friend. Back in my time, vampires were looked down upon as monsters; unnatural folk of the wizarding world. You could easily distinguish them from purebloods like us like how we can differentiate our fingers from our eyes."

"....."

"Let me tell you this. When a vampire reaches the age of 14, he will be attracted to the blood scent of his mate only. You will still smell blood of the others and crave for it, however, you will only need your mate's blood. Don't drink it, and you will perish from this world."

"Honestly, I didn't know I was craving for blood until you realized that I was behaving weirdly."

"Thank me later dear. Now, where is your wand? I told you to bring it everywhere you go."

Draco sighed and tapped his foot against the floor. "Mom, it's not like Potter's here so I can hex him to shreds, although it would be a loss for the world. And besides, it's in my room."

Narcissa groaned. "I knew you'd bring Potter sooner or later into this conversation. Your father tells me he's getting sick of your ramblings about that boy."

Draco flailed in the bathtub, splashing water everywhere, spilling some on the floor as he splashed, remembering something.

"Let me tell you this. When a vampire reaches the age of 14, he will be attracted to the blood scent of his mate only. You will still smell blood of the others and crave for it, however, you will only need your mate's blood. Don't drink it, and you will perish from this world."

Shit.

Draco's eyes widened, and he had to grip the sides of the bathtub to keep him from slipping into the water.

This time he didn't add bubbles to the water; he only made it warm and stepped in. Sweet scents often reminded him of Potter's blood and he had to keep away from it as much as he can.

But how long will he last before he....dies?

Draco shivered in the basking warmth of the water. He didn't fear death; he feared the cause and what would that cause make him feel.

So...Potter is my mate.

Maybe?

Draco stared at the ceiling, unblinking and not moving, still gripping the sides of the bathtub, his thoughts swirling his mind like a giant tornado, momentarily dragging him away from the real world.

He didn't hear the soft click of a doorknob.

He also didn't hear the creak of the door as it opened.