Normal
The first few months flew by in a flash.
They had settled in well in their new rooms and classes. The room wasn’t much different from their last, if not a little bigger, and its windows towards the sea let more light in.
Draco still slept in the bed between Blaise’s and Theo’s, giving them an entire side just to themselves to scheme Quidditch tactics and study till their eyes burned or one of them fell asleep. The second instance happened quite a lot.
All three had made it into the Slytherin Quidditch team. With the last generation of players deeply involved in their NEWT’S studies and most others not interested in joining the team when there weren’t any official games to look forward to, the Team was manageable in size and welcomed them with open arms after the boys had shown them what they’d worked on this summer.
Draco had scored the Seeker position, Blaise was excited about being a Chaser, while Theo was happy enough with his place as Keeper. It even seemed like all the training had paid off rather well since they won all Quidditch friendlies against both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.
Their grades were holding up rather well too. Draco suddenly held first place in most subjects he would have counted as unnecessary before. He was best in Herbology - though Longbottom had become close more than once-, Care of Magical creatures, -Draco had come to like the Blast Ended Skrewts way more since he didn’t want to drink their blood anymore- and held his stance in Potions and Transfiguration.
Draco, however, didn’t find studying as easy as before, given that his focusing capability had split itself in two, just as his reading speed. And even his magic wasn’t as strong anymore, he couldn’t just draw the energy from around to bundle it into a spell, but had to draw it from within himself. He really wanted to talk about it with someone, but he just couldn’t find the time for tea with Severus.
Therefore, the Study of Ancient Runes and Astrology had been a bit of a challenge as well as the History of Magic, and surprisingly enough DADA too.
Mad Eye Moody had been fun at first. A rule breaker who didn’t care about the fact they were way too young to learn about curses, especially the unforgivable ones, rather than defensive spells. The Slytherins loved him for it though.
Moody brought new and exciting methods into class, especially his ‘no books policy’, which had been tickling the Ravenclaws a little wrong and made everyone like him even more.
He had even transfigured Vincent and Greg into big greasy rats once after they had tormented a few Gryffindors in the halls.
It had been all fun and games at first, but there was something weird about the man. Especially since he kept dropping names of old families more often than not. Draco had realized that most of the surnames had been suspiciously familiar, and had come up more than once in his research about the first wizarding war.
Moody loved talking about the war, really loved that topic, and reminding everyone on which side he had stood.
Sometimes though, his voice turned so cold and hateful, that it made Draco and all the other Legacies feel a little uneasy.
Being a retired Auror, he used a rather unpopular approach as well and tried the different spells rather often on animals or even students. One Day Professor Moody had put the Imperius Curse on each of them in turn, to demonstrate its power and to see whether they could resist its effects, not bothering about the illegal nature of his classes, reminding Draco of a rather mad and dangerous Slytherin himself.
Draco had thought he’d be able to resist the Imperius charm somehow, he had resisted most common curses and poisons before in Severus' extra lessons, due to his uncommonly fast healing, but being just like everyone else included being swept away by the unforgivable. It had been all fun for everyone else, for Draco too, before it was his turn, but by the time he wasn’t in control anymore, It had frightened him to his core. It felt even worse than the blood-thirst, worse than being controlled by instincts. At least his instincts were part of him, he knew how to deal with them, but this was a pure nightmare. And however hard he tried to break free, he couldn’t. He wasn’t strong enough. And it made Draco more and more aware that he had talked to Severus. As soon as possible.
-
After the first month, however, everyone was busy enough to forget about the oddity that was Professor Mad-Eye Moody, and Draco didn’t see the sense in rushing things about the talk, returning to their normalized schedule, overcome by homework and studying. Nothing hurt, the rune was gone and Draco was finally normal again. Life was so easy now. Less to worry about. Caring less about other’s perception of him.
But of course, nothing good lasted.
It was the end of October, a Hogsmeade weekend, which Draco had spent with his friends and a few other Slytherins from their Quidditch team. He’d been walking alongside Astoria Greengrass finding increasingly fun names to call her sister, when they heard the all too well-known snicker behind them.
“Look who’s gotten himself a girlfriend. Are the girls your age already fed up with you that you have to date first years now?”
Draco only realized that the boy was talking to him when the guy jogged a little to keep up with them. As if it was on autopilot, Draco muffled a laugh at the idea of some random child coming up to tease him. Who even was that? And what was that accent he had? Draco could barely understand what he was saying.
There was a group of other students chuckling along to the boy who had spoken. He had sandy blond hair and wore a Gryffindor scarf that was wrapped around his neck way too often, making him look even smaller than he already was.
He looked vaguely familiar but Draco had forgotten his name. Looking at the students surrounding him, they were a little more familiar. Most of them were Gryffindors. Most of them boys. Draco could make out Neville Longbottom who was hiding behind a bigger student with dark skin and short black hair, the only one looking remotely awkward about the interaction. Draco scanned the rest of the group for tousled black hair, but in his search, he came out empty. Hmm, interesting. No Weasel or Know-It-All either.
Was that blond guy in his year too? If so, Draco couldn’t recall his name for the life of him. He didn’t take time in his life to learn some Gryffindor’s name.
“Is he in your year Astoria?”
Draco asked his friend with feigned confusion, making her and some of the other Gryffindors giggle. The guy honestly did look like he was twelve.
“Hey, I’m 14!”
The blonde protested outraged.
“Hey, is that guy bothering you?”
Blaise asked from up ahead, where he was walking with Theo and a few other Slytherins who had all stopped and were now all looking in Draco and Astoria’s direction, throwing the Gryffindors threatening looks.
But Draco was able to fend for himself. He was a Malfoy after all. No one needed to fight his battles.
“No not really. This guy,- What’s your name?”
Draco turned to the guy briefly.
“Seamus.”
The Gryffindor replied without thinking.
“Oh Yeah, Simon here was just trying to convince me he’s 14, can you believe it? Puh! First-years really think they can make anyone believe anything.”
Blaise grinned at Draco’s reply, sadly not sharing the playful sentiment with the little Gryffindor, who was livid. Spitting out insults Draco couldn’t understand through that heavy accent.
By now most of the bystanders had broken out into laughter, listening to the silly little man trying to insult Draco, until the Gryffindor bared his teeth angrily, and then suddenly there was a fist in Draco’s face.
—
The last time Draco’d really hurt himself had been a few months before his sixth birthday. When he’d still been ‘normal’ - if that had ever even been the case.
He’d skinned his knee pretty while playing with the peacocks in the garden, chasing them around the estate grounds. He hadn’t seen the big rocks lining the flowerbeds, too distracted by all the beautiful colors on display. He had slipped on the grass, still wet from the English weather, and fallen knee-first onto one of the sharper stones.
Having lived such a sheltered life, Draco had never felt such pain before his little accident, which therefore had made him cry infinitely louder- at least by his mother’s standards, who always told Draco that story- than any other magical child ever could, enhancing his cry in a surge of accidental magic, that had scared his parents immensely, as they’d loved to tell any guests to Malfoy Manor during his later childhood.
It had been so long ago, that Draco couldn’t quite recall the real pain he’d felt that day, but after the bite, he had sometimes lay awake at night imagining what it was like to feel real physical pain.
He’d fallen out of a tree once, when he was nine, right onto his arm. It had been twisted and bent weirdly. But nothing had ever again hurt. Not physically.
So Draco wasn’t sure whether it was normal to like the adrenaline running through his body now. To like the pain that was a little numbed by the shock of knuckles connecting with Draco’s nose, making it crack suspiciously.
Whether it was obvious to all bystanders how fascinated Draco was with the blood staining the hand he brought back from where he had touched it to his face.
Whether they could see the excitement in his eyes. The thrill.
The hunt. The wrath of a Malfoy.
And then suddenly there was blood in Seamus's face too. As if of their own control, Draco’s fist connected to the Gryffindor’s visage again.
His lip split open and Seamus stumbled back.
Again.
The guy’s eye was swollen. Draco was sitting on top of him now.
Again.
Everything around them was so far away. There was only that face and that exciting pain, egging Draco on.
And when Draco’s hand connected with the blond's face again, there was not only Draco’s blood on the other's face.
The thrill.
The hunt.
The blood.
The bloodlust of a vampire.
Draco didn’t hear the screams of the other students, either promoting the fight with excitement or screaming at them to stop. He didn’t feel the hands that were reaching for him, scratching at him, trying to drag him off of the Gryffindor beneath.
He did however smell the sweet blood coating both his knuckles and Seamus's face deliciously. And then he felt it. The thing that finally made him go down, right next to Seamus like a limp sack of potatoes.
It had been more out of surprise than pain, however, that he had suddenly rolled himself up into a ball around his arm, when he looked down at it and saw the rune, stroke by stroke, slowly itching itself back into his skin again. Only when he’d already rolled up and clutched the burning flesh, the pain started vibrating through his entire body in earnest.
The lines burned itself into his forearm like fire and set his nerve endings aflame, one after the other.
If he’d ever wondered about pain before, now he had finally the confirmation that yes, indeed, pain did hurt like hell, and wasn’t really a pleasant thing. This pain at least wasn’t.
There were spells cast around him, commands given, hands fleetingly but carefully touching him. Air brushed over his skin.
And Draco screamed like he had never before, not even that first time when he’d skinned his knee.
This was so much worse.
This was agony.
This was torture.
This was real.
And Draco just wanted it to stop.
—
“Bring him here!”
“Set him down.”
“What happened Mister Zabini?”
“I don’t know. He was fighting with Finnigan and suddenly he just went down and started screaming.”
“That mud-blood probably hexed him.”
“Careful now, Mister Nott. I forbid such foul language in my hospital wing.”
“Sorry, Madame Pomfrey.”
“Do you know what hex was used?”
“Finnigan didn’t even have his wand in hand. He didn’t hex him. Malfoy just went down!”
“Will he be alright Madame Pomfrey?”
“No need to worry Mister Potter. Mister Malfoy will be quite alright now that he’s here. Now, Please, take your friends and go back to your houses, all of you.”
“We’re not friends with him!”
“Shut up Blaise. We’ve got other things to worry about.”
“I don’t care Theo. I’ll never be put in a category with the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-Annoying!”
“Well, now you’re just quoting Draco.”
“Did he really say that?”
“Please, boys. Miss Granger. Mister Malfoy needs all the rest he can get.”
“Yes Madame Pomfrey.”
“Yeah alright, no need to drag me Theo, I’ll go. I’m so gonna bust in Finnigan’s face though.”
“Seamus didn’t even do anything! Malfoy went down all on his own. It was actually pretty funny.”
“Not helping Ron!”
“Who even invited the Weasel in here? I thought pets were forbidden, Potter. And he for sure cursed Draco. He’d never go down like that out of nowhere.”
“Well, your precious little leader may not be as strong as you all thought.”
“We don’t have a leader in our group. And if so It’d be me!”
“Out, I said, not: just a few beds further down.”
“Come on, we should focus on Finnigan and not those wankers.”
——
“Is he awake?”
“He’s coming and going. There is a lot of strain on his body like it’s fighting itself. I can’t, however, figure out what it really is.”
“What happened to his arm?”
“There were cuts there that kept bleeding, appearing and disappearing, so I wrapped the mandrake leaves around it, but there’s no sign of it stopping. It just cuts and heals rapidly. And he won’t keep any of the nutrient potions down. I’ve never seen anything quite like it, Severus.”
“Let me see the cuts.”
“Of course. There seemed to be a pattern to them but they heal too fast to make out anything lasting.”
“Runes.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing. I need to get some potions ready. Tell Dumbledore I won’t be at the feast tonight.”