The manor seemed just as dim and lifeless as he remembered. True it was grand and taken care of, but there was always a certain dullness that could even be detected by Draco through the gates. He loved the manor even if it was dull and dreary, but today it seemed almost dangerously so and as the rain hit the windows, Draco looked around the empty room. It was just as he'd remembered, from the elegant sofa to the mantel which held nothing, but dust. The house was silent except for the occasional moan or grunt that could be heard from the floor above him.

As he walked cautiously up the stairs, the faint noises discontinued and his footsteps were the only noises present. "Father?" Draco softly said and then the grunting and moaning started up again, this time more distressed than the others.

The noises came from the third door on the right. A door that was painted emerald green with gold carvings covering the door. He hadn't bothered to go into this specific room since he was a kid, but he remembered that something always felt off about the room.

The door creaked open as Draco gently stepped in and there was not-so-discreet noises issuing from the corner, but when he turned to look in the corner, it was empty and all he could see was blue paint on the wall. He took a cautious step backward, but felt himself hit into some kind of large object that hadn't been there before. Looking up to silver eyes that matched his, he realized it was his father. "Oh, Draco, take a seat, will you?" His father calmly asked, but more so stated. He turned around to see a oak desk with a chair that looked like nothing he'd seen in this household before. It reminded him of a chair at the Weasley's. He pulled out the chair, turned it, sat and tried to look as proper as possible by keeping his chin up and sitting up in the chair. His father, noticeably, hadn't taken his eyes off of Draco, his robes had a slight blood stain, which seemed like nothing his father would normally be okay with. His eyes moved back to looking his father in the eyes, as his father cleared his throat to get his attention. "So, you've been with the Weasleys and Potter?" His father asked, but Draco knew he already knew the answer.

"Listen, father, I—" Draco started, but stopped his father's voice overpowered his.

"I don't wish to hear excuses, Draco. What concerns me is your disobedience. Did you like staying with the Weasleys and speaking to the boy I despise, Harry Potter?" His father asked sharply and there was venom in his voice.

"No, of course not, father! I simply made a mistake, I—"

"I said I didn't want excuses!" His father snapped, coming so close to Draco that he could feel his father's breathing. "So, you're a vampire, are you?"

"Yes, I am. I'm a filthy, no good, disgusting creature. I'm sorry to disappoint you." Draco panted and his father pulled away, standing up straight.

"Hanging with the half-blood and blood traitors, while simultaneously feeding on other's blood. Almost sickening, really." His father spat.

"Father, I—"

"You have feelings for the boy! The Dark Lord has informed me! My own son, a traitor. A gay creature who has fallen in love with the very boy we're meant to despise."

"No, father, I would never—"

"Are you questioning the Dark Lord?" His father asked, not so kindly, and Draco didn't respond. Any response seemed usless, as he'd only be digging his grave further. His father sighed, it was almost violent, and he watched as he slipped his fingers into his robes to pull out a darkly colored dagger. The difference from his pale skin to the midnight dagger was like night and day. Lucius simply held the dagger by his side, moving his thumb up and down the handle. "You've always been quite the disappointment, but I could have never imagined it coming to this."

As Draco took a step back, feeling vulnerable and not even bothering to grab the wand that was sitting awkwardly in his pocket, a muffled yell sounded from the corner. Draco turned his head to now see a small strand of hair, seemingly floating. He fought the instinct to keep far away from the strand, taking a few steps closer, which reached him to the corner of the small room. "Draco, don't!" His father snapped, but did nothing to stop the boy from lightly touching the midnight black hair. It was greasy, almost reminding him of how Snape's looked. There were more mumbles from whatever the strand was connected to.

Draco moved his bony hand, reaching out into midair, grasping a some sort of cloth that felt like silk. Pushing the cloak aside, revealed a boy with greasy black hair, piercing green eyes and one arm that appeared sickly. "H-Harry?" Draco spoke calmly, fighting off a storm of shock and the boy lifted his head further to look Draco straight in his mercury eyes. He was gagged and hands chained the floor, every small movement seemed like a struggle for him. "How?"

"What a marvelous question?" Lucius said, delightfully, causing Draco to return his attention to his father who was standing near the doorway, wearing a smirk that reminded him of his own. "Well, this boy arrived only a little while before you, actually. He made the false assumption this is where you would go first. Such an incompetent Gryffindor. He made his appearance wearing a hospital gown with a Gryffindor robe over it, so I presume the Dark Lord's snake did its duty. Well, that cloak was found in the pocket of the disgustingly filthy robes that were covered in blood. Quite a useful item."

Draco merely shook his head at the news, hoping that denial would make this issue disappear. "No, Harry wouldn't have been unintelligent enough to imagine myself coming back to this hellhole." Draco said viciously, standing to his full extent, appearing as tall as possible for him. His eyes filled with fear. Fear of what Lucius would do, fear of what he'd done and fear for Harry's worsening condition. It wasn't as his father had said, he would never even consider Harry an acquaintance, but he did owe him and that was what Draco was chalking his fear for Harry up to.

"Well, he did assume you'd return to this 'hellhole'. Not a bad assumption, but I wonder why he'd even run after you? So, the Dark Lord was correct. A pitiful son, you are." Lucius exclaimed, his smirk disappearing, replaced by a look of pure disgust. There was no way out of this, Draco though, he was as good as gone, along with the boy who was supposed to be the savior from the Dark Lord.