Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's Note: This is the beta version of 'Wicked'

Beta: Kamerreon

Prologue

He’d never thought it could be like this.

After all, his life was supposed to have ended nearly a decade ago. He toyed with the end of his wine glass as he looked at the blood red liquid with only bored interest and then a slow smirk formed over his sensuous lips. His life did end a decade ago.

Now he was merely the walking dead, a vampire. He took a long, languid sip of his wine and sighed in appreciation. He moved with an elegance and confidence that made vampires even older than himself quake in their boots. His footsteps echoed through the enormous chamber as he strode along the blood red marble floors to the long oak paneled doors; with a flick of his hand, the door opened for him and the servants on the other end stopped and kneeled.

“High Lord,” they stated in deference.

He bowed his head in acknowledgment and kept moving. He was a little preoccupied this night. Something was coming. The tapestries of old and the pillars carved of black marble barely fazed him as he walked towards the main doors. It was time to feed; his fangs elongated at the thought of a luscious neck to quench his need, yes, mortals were good for something. A guard noticed his approach and came forward.

“Bring the car around,” he said, his deep sultry voice flowing deep into the guard’s mind as he trembled in fear and pleasure at the sight of High Lord in front of him.

“Yes, Excellency,” he stated and hurried off. A dark chuckle came from the shadows and the High Lord smiled, baring his fangs.

“You have come home,” he said warmly, very pleased that his old friend had returned. A shadow disconnected itself from the remaining shadows and flowed forward like a tide of darkness. The body of a lithe man formed as he gracefully sank to his knees before the High Lord. The Lord scoffed. “Come now, none of that, after all, you are my mentor and the only family I have left.” The man rose, and a small darkly beautiful smile formed over his full lips.

“We are family aren’t we?” he purred as he came closer and wrapped his long, pale arms around the High Lord. The Lord sighed, at peace for a moment in the arms of the man he loved more than his own father. The sweet scent of the night clung to him and the High Lord breathed it in with giddy excitement. “A little giddy tonight are we?” The voice that was usually cold had warmed to a gentle amusement.

“No, anxious, something is coming. I can feel it in the air,” the Lord said as his eyes lit with mischief and power. “The sweet smell of death is in the air, the hunt shall begin shortly. Will you join me?”

The man shook his head and bared his teeth in a savage grin; his fangs elongated briefly and then retracted. “I have had my fill,” he said laughing slightly, his raven locks cascaded over his shoulders, down to the middle of his back. The soft moonlight glinted off the silk black, button down shirt he wore, and the snakeskin leather black pants that looked to be poured on. “I leave the rest of the night to you.”

“Why thank you,” the Lord said dryly. The main doors were opened and the rays of the moon rolled over the stretch limo that was now out front. The Lord glided down the steps and then tossed his head as he looked back at his mentor. Silvery blond locks cascaded over his shoulders down to his slim hips, which were encased in black leather pants. His eyes flashed glacial blue and he smiled coyly. “You are keeping secrets Sev, what has made you so happy tonight?”

Severus Snape laughed out loud, the sound so rich if felt like velvet caressing soft skin. “I have found a toy to play with.” A shaped eyebrow arched in question. “Another time Draco, the hunt awaits.” He smiled and then winked playfully as he sashayed his way into Draco’s home.

“God, the man is like a teenager again.” The smell of fresh blood wafted through the air and Draco Lucius Deveroux Malfoy, High Lord of Europe grinned savagely as he climbed into the limo.

“Where to, Excellency?”

“Take me to Wicked,” he said as he looked on the floor of the limo. A man laid there, blood slowly making its way from his body from the cuts along his wrists. “You will taste like fine wine, mortal,” Draco stated, his eyes dilating until only the pupil remained. With his undead strength, he lifted the man, held him like a child as he squirmed and begged, and sank his teeth into his jugular. His body sang its pleasure as he drank greedily. The man did taste like wine: like wine, sex, prime of his life, and vitality. His heart began to speed up like a distant echo to Draco’s senses, before it slowed to a grinding halt. Draco sat up and licked his lips, his eyes lighting up with renewed power. Tossing the now dead body on the floor away from him, the vampire crossed his legs casually as he watched the city of Paris fly by him. He had been in the city for only five years and yet he was weary. He had power, money, and ever lasting life… but what was eternal life… with no one to share it with?

Draco sighed heavily, but a small sneer formed over his face as they entered the Red Light District. It was really called the Lair, but it didn’t matter what name the humans gave it; it was still his part of town. The chauffeur opened his door in front of a nondescript building with a very long line waiting outside of it. Even from here, Draco could feel the pulsating beat of the bass as rock, techno, and gothic wafted out into the night. As he made his way towards the front of the line, a face caught his notice.

It was one he’d never forget.

“Harry Potter,” he breathed as he took in the sight of his nemesis. For being twenty-eight, Potter looked almost two decades older. He was bone thin, his eyes dead, and a sickly pallor clung to his skin. Draco took an unnecessary breath to sniff the air around the wizard and smirked. Ah, so the Boy Wonder was lonely, tossed aside like a dog after his job was done, or did he just leave? Draco cocked his head to the side as he thought and then gave a gesture that looked like a shrug but was too graceful to be just that.

“Hey, you can’t just… Oh hey, Boss.” The burly security guard corrected his tone immediately as he saw Draco’s eyes flash coolly.

“Bernard,” he said smoothly as he walked in, “bring that skeletal mortal right there to the VIP lounge. He is… an old friend,” Draco drawled.

Bernard just nodded. “Sure thing, Boss,” he said and as Draco turned towards the pulsating dance floor and the gyrating bodies he gave a sexy laugh and smiled.

The Golden Boy was entering his domain.

The night was looking up already.