Draven woke only a few hours later. He could sense that it was early in the morning. Perfect. The eariler they attempted their escape plan, the more likely it would be successful. The Dark lord and his followers wouldn't suspect vampires to escape when the sun was out. The sun...Draven let out an involintary shiver. Harry would be fine as his change was not yet complete. But for Draven...he shook his head firmly, banishing all hesitant thoughts. He had to do this. The Dark Lord was hurting his Childe. That could not stand. He could take the pain the sun would bring him as long as it brought the chance that Harry would finally be safe.

Draven looked down at his Childe. He hadn't known Harry for all that long, yet he was already putting the boy's well being above his own. Just the thought of Harry getting hurt left a horrible pain in his no longer beating heart. He couldn't recall if he had felt this way about William. Sure he had cared for the boy, but never like this.

Harry shivered in his arms and Draven instinctively tightened them. His Childe was cold. Gently as he could Draven set Harry on the floor. The boy curled up upon himself, trying to find warmth. Vampires were sensitive to the temperature and as a Childe Harry was even more so.

Getting to his feet, Draven stepped over Harry and went over to the door. He knocked harshly on the door. While he waited for an answer he wrapped his arms around himself. It really was cold in here. It was unlikely that this cold would harm him in any way, but it could effect Harry badly, and he didn't want that.

The eye slot on the door slid open and a pair of dull blue eyes stared back at him. "What do you want, vampire?" the Death Eater grumbled. Poor bloke. He got stuck with the early shift.

"I require a blanket."

The Death Eater scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to give you a bloody blanket. The Dark Lord didn't order me to make sure you were comfortable."

"It's not for me." Draven growled, losing his patience. "It's for my Childe. The Dark Lord would be most displeased if Harry froze to death."

"He's already a vampire. It's not like he can die again."

Draven slammed his fist against the door, eyes flashing dangerously. "If you don't get me a damn blanket then you will be the one who dies! My Childe is hungry and I will happily let him drink from you unless you do as I say!"

"Fine! Merlin, you vampires are crazy..." The Death Eater slid the eye slot closed and Draven heard footsteps retreating. A few mintues later the footsteps came back. The slot opened again and a shrunken down blanket was pushed through. When it hit the floor it grew back to normal size.

"Thank you." Draven hissed, grabbing the blanket and heading over to Harry.

He sunk to the floor next to Harry. Gathering his Childe into his arms he wrapped the blanket securely around Harry. He felt the boy melt into the new found warmth. Draven had nothing to cover himself, but the small smile that spread across Harry's face created a warmth of it's own. As long as he was taking care of his Childe he was fine.

"Draven...?" Harry mumbled, lifting his head groggily.

"Shush, little one." ordered Draven, pushing Harry's head back down. "Rest for a bit longer. You will need your strength for later."

Harry did as he was told, lowering his head back down and burrowing deeper into the covers. Draven stroked the boy's hair until he was sure Harry had drifted back to sleep. They could wait a bit longer. Their escape was important, but Harry really had to rest. They had a long day ahead of them. And that was if the plan even worked.

It was really a rather simple plan. Draven had considered it before he had gotten to know Harry better and begun to care for him. He didn't know if he had it in him to hurt Harry like the plan required. He still had that blood lust of course, and every mintue was a struggle to not drink from Harry when his blood was so very close. But he stopped himself by thinking how much pain it would put Harry through. He remembered the look of agony on Harry's face when Letholdus had drunk from him. It had made him want to tear Letholdus into tiny little shreds for making his Childe hurt so much.

The plan was this: Draven would drink from Harry until the boy was on the very brink of death. With this much blood Draven would be powerful enough to rip the door off it's hinges and hopefully get past all the guards.

The problem with this plan was that Harry would be extremley weak and there was a huge chance that he wouldn't make it. Vampires weren't supposed to lose that much blood. And Draven couldn't just give the blood back after he opened the door because he had to take down all the Death Eaters that would try to stop them for escaping. If Harry couldn't survive for that long...Draven didn't even want to consider that. If he lost another Childe he would have nothing left.

And that's why he was hesitant. But it was their only way out. He would never forgive himself if the Dark Lord tortured Harry again when they had had a chance to escape. He was stuck between two choices. Stay here where Harry would be tortured, ripped away from him, drunk from other vampires and not given the chance to fully transform, or they could try to escape which could lead to him losing Harry forever.

He placed his head on top of Harry's. This boy was going to be the end of him. But Draven didn't really mind. He was just so happy he didn't feel lonely anymore. With his reputation Draven had been unable to make friends with any other vampires. He was a disgrace. He didn't blame them. What Letholdus had said struck a nerve. What if he lost it again? What if he attacked Harry the way he did William? What if he just snapped? Letholdus was right. Harry wouldn't stand a chance. With William it hadn't been a fight. It had been slaughter.

Draven held on tighter to Harry and closed his eyes as the memory of that night bombarded him.

...

William had disappered. The familiar flutter of panic appeared in Draven's stomach as it always did when he couldn't find his Childe. If William would just listen to him they wouldn't have to deal with this. William was so arrogant sometimes.

Draven crept through the streets carefully, senses on high alert. He might as well catch William and him a meal so when the boy came back this night wouldn't have been a total waste. He had no idea how he would teach William how to hunt when the boy seemed to think it fine to disappear all the time. He was a lost cause for a vampire if Draven had ever seen one. Perhaps he should have thought longer when he had considered making a Childe. He was in over his head. Ever since William had insisted he learn how to hunt they boy had cost him many a meal, and he was suffering because of it. William didn't grasp the complexities of the hunt. He chose to just attack and more often than not it failed miserably, leaving them both hungry until the sun set again.

Sniffing the air, Draven caught the faint smell of blood and locked onto it. He followed the smell through alley ways and paused when he got close. He realized it three different scents he was smelling, coming from three different sources. He used his vampire strength to crawl up the side of an aging building till he reached the roof. Slinking forward with a grace that could rival a cat, he peeked over the edge.

In the alley below there was a man and a woman. The woman had her arms around the man's neck and was kissing him sloppily. Obviously the two had a bit too much to drink and were now drunk, The woman, who was wearing clothing that was much more revealing than necessary, looked like a good victim. Her skin seemed soft and easy to sin k his fangs into. All he had to do was jump down, surprise them, knock out the man and then he would have a meal.

Letting his fangs slide out, Draven shifted into a pouncing postion. He licked his lips as he imagined the warm blood hitting his tounge. It had been six days since he had last succesfully drunk from someone. With Willaim messing up left and right, hunting had become difficult. He didn't need to drink from someone everday to survive. But six days was a long time, and he was weaking. He could feel it in his bones. He had to get blood soon or he wouldn't have the strength to hunt.

Just as Draven was about to jump down, he was yanked back forcefully. Taken off guard, Draven couldn't stop himself from falling backwards and hitting his head painfully. Once his vision cleared he sat up and looked for his attacker.

Standing just feet in front of him was William. He had a fie in his eyes that Draven had seen before, but it now seemed to glow brighter. The area around his Childe's mouth was covered in blood. Red streaks of the substance trailed from his mouth, tiny droplets staining his shirt.

"William?" said Draven, getting to his feet. "Who did you drink from? You know you aren't supposed to hunt without me. I've told you that more than once."

William took a threatening step forward, which caused Draven to narrow his eyes suspiously. What was Willaim up to? "It doesn't matter who I drunk from," said Willaim dismissively. "They are dead now. What matters is that you are here, weak because you haven't had blood in days. And I am strong."

Draven scoffed. "As strong as a Childe could be, which is nothing when compared to the force of a full fledged vampire. Now please, William, stop this nonsense. It is not the time for this."

"But it is! I am tired of you, Draven. You refuse to release me as your Childe, so I must kill you to gain my freedom. I will no longer be slave to your petty rules. As a vampire I will be great. You will not hold me back any longer."

Willaim leapt forward, fangs extended and nails enlonged, aiming for Draven. The older vampire was so surprised that he didn't make an effort to move out of the way. Willaim hit him hard and Draven went stumbling back. He ran out of roof and before he knew it he was falling though he air. He heard the screams coming from the man and woman in the alley way.

He hit the cobblestone grounud with a nasty thud. It was a fall that could have killed a human, but only left him dizzy. His head throbbed.

He heard footsteps and the woman appeared above him, her hand covering her mouth. Draven reached up a shaking hand, trying to make it look like he was in extreme pain. The woman called the man over. The man reached down and grabbed his hand. The second he did Draven yanked him down to his level and sunk his fangs into his neck. The woman was too busy screaming to do anything.

The sweet taste of blood washed over his mouth and he moaned. It had been too long. He couldn't enjoy it too long though, for William would follow him any second. He shoved the man away and got to his feet. William was standing at the end of the alley way, the woman dead at his feet.

Rage boiled up in Draven. Again with the senseless killing. How dare William waste life so carelessly. He let out a growl and took off at a running pace, ready to put William back in his place.

Smirking, William stepped over the dead body and did the same. In a flash they were on eachother, biting and stratching. The man Draven had fed from was gone, leaving the alley empty except for them. Draven managed to get a good slash in, making William howl in pain. Draven hoped that was enough to convince William to stop this. He didn't want to hurt his Childe.

He was so worried about William that he didn't notice William had kicked him until he was flying through the air. The rough cobblestones ripped at his face as he landed. Shaking his head, the older vampire lifted his head from were he was kneeled. He spit a mouthful of blood on the ground and wiped the remainder from his lip.

William was walking toward him slowly, looking like he thought he was the most important person in the world. "No wonder Melinda left you, Draven!" William laughed. "You're pathetic!"

Draven looked up at William, fire blazing in his eyes. William knew better than to mention that name. It brought memories flooding back. Memories Draven had so despertlely wanted to forget. He snapped.

Next thing William knew, he had hit the hard brick wall. A loud cracking sound rang through the night. Draven towered over his Childe, no longer seeing him. He kicked his foot out and caught William with a devestating blow to the stomach. William screamed, grabbing his stomach and looking up at Draven with fear in his eyes.

Voices rang in Draven's head. "Pathetic...worthless...unworthy...disgusting...monster..."

Draven grabbed William by the arm and swung him around, slamming him against the wall again. William whimpered in pain. Draven paused and took a deeo breath. He just needed to calm down. He had lost his temper before and it never did any good.

William chuckled softly, despite the pain he was feeling. "Just proof of how weak you are. You can't even win in a fight against your own Childe. You're a pitiful vampjre. A disgrace. Letholdus was right to abandon you."

The anger flared up again, and all thoughts that he couldn't hurt his Childe were gone. William had disobeyed him for the last time. The part of him that had been damaged when Letholdus left him took center stage.

Screaming, he plunged his hand into William's stomach. The boy's eyes went wide with disbelief as he looked down at his stomach. Not hesitating a moment, Draven started to claw at the boy, ripping at his flesh. William's screams echoed around the alley way and out into the night. Soon the boy was begging for mercy. But Draven was far too gone to listen.

Blood stained his clothes and covered his hands. It bubbled out of the boy's mouth, choking him. All the anger Draven had experienced, all the sadness and all the hate was pouring out of him and into his fists, which were pumpeling William into the ground.

"D- Draven..." William sobbed, attempting to shield himself with his nearly broken arm. The skin was bruised and you couldn't see his skin under all the blood. "Draven, I...I'm sorry, please...please stop...I..I'm your Childe..."

"You are no Childe of mine." Draven growled, grabbing William's arm and snapping it. More screams. Then William coughed and splattered blood all over Draven's face. This is when Draven paused in his beating and looked down, finally taking in the sight in front of him.

He couldn't believe what he had done. His Childe...Draven had to put a hand over his mouth to prevent from throwing up. The boy beneath him was hardly reconizable. "William?" Draven muttered, touching his Childe's face. There was no response. "William, wake up." Still nothing. "William, I order you to wake up now." The boy remained unmoving.
Draven shook his head. He staggered to his feet and backed away, staring at his bloody hands. "No, no, no..." He whispered in disbelief. He had killed his Childe. He was a monster. He had to run. He had to run before the Council foound him. Because he had killled William...he had killed him. Murdered him. He deserved to die...he deserved to rot in hell forever for what he had done...

He deserved to be the one dead.

...

Draven pulled back into reality. Now was not the time to wallow in sad memories. That wouldn't happen again. He wouldn't hurt Harry in that way. He was stronger now.

They would go through with the plan and escape. Everything would be fine.

...

Elder Altair smiled when he heard the knock echoing through the room. Right on time.

"Come in," he said calmly, eyes locked on the door.

A cloaked figure slipped in quietly, barely opening the door at all to enter the room. It shut the door behind it.

The figure walked forward without making a noise and stopped before Altair's throne. It bowed lw in respect. "It is an honor to be in your presence, my Elder." the figure croaked. It's voice was very rough like sandpaper, like the voicebox had been damaged.

Altair regarded the figure in front of him with an air of curiosty. The man was highly recommended when it came to asassinations. He was an Elder, and therefore could not let his hands get dirty with things such as murder. Therefore he had to hire someone else to do it for him.

"You come highly recomended. I trust you have the skill to complete any task I will give you?"

"Of course, my Elder. I enjoy my job immensely, and the praise is well deserved. I have yet to fail a task. Any job you give me, I promise to complete."

Altair nodded his approval. He scanned the man, a little annoyed that the man hadn't lowered his hood in respect. He wanted to see the face of the asassian he was hiring. "Lower your hood." he ordered.

The man visibly stiffened at the command. "I'd rather not, my Elder, if it is all the same."

"Do you wish to disrespect me?"

The man shook his head quickly. "No, my Elder. I did not mean to make you think that. You are the best of all the Elders, and I do not believe my face is worthy enough for your eyes."

Altair smirked. The man earned some points with that compliment. "I will not ask again."

With a sigh, the man lifted his hands and lowered the hood like he was told. Even Altair, who had great self control, couldn't hold back his grimace at the sight of the other vampire's face.

It was heavily scarred. Angry red lines crossed his face. Some of the scars were white, and slightly raised from his face. He was blind in one eye. It was obvious as that eye was an odd white color. It looked as if his face had been clawed savagely, and that the wounds had not been treated. Surprisingly, his hair was smooth and well kept. The ends were a dark red color, while the rest was black.

Altair had to wonder what had happened to the man, but did not ask. It was not important at the moment. "What is your price?"

"My fee is discussed after a successful assignment."

"Very well," Altair snapped his fingers and a small vampir ran in and handed him a goblet of blood. Altair took a sip. Wizard blood. Good. He had been tasting different bloods all day n preperation for the Potter boy's blood. "Are you familar with a vampire named Draven?"

The man's whole face darkened. His mouth contorted into an ugly sneer, which made his face look even worse. His one good eye held so much hatred it nearly turned black. Altair found this very, very curious. "Yes," the man growled. "I am familar with him."

"He has created a new Childe." The man's eyes went huge at this news and then narrowed into angry slits. "Because of his choice, he has been captured by the Dark Lord. The Council has been searching for him ever since he murdered his first Childe. He has yet to be punished for his crime. But now that we know where he is, and since he will be weighed down by taking care of his Childe, he will be easy to find. We no longer wish to deal with him. Therefore, it is your job to dispose of him."

The man's whole face lit up in glee. His eye promised pain and suffering. "What of his Childe?"

Altair waved his hand dismissively. "I have other plans for his Childe. Your only job is to get rid of Draven. I have no doubt Draven is making plans to escape. If he succeds, it will make it much easier for you." Altair leaned forward a bit. "Do you accept this assignment?"

The man chuckled. "Knowing you, my Elder, I doubt I have a choice."

"Correct."

The man bowed low again. "Then I glady accept this assignment. It will give me great pleasure to finally get rid of that pathetic fool Draven. He should have been killed long ago." The man said this with absoulte certainty.

Altair got off his throne and approuched the man. He stopped when he was looming over the man. "What is your name?" he asked, using his foot to nudge the man's face up so he could look at it.

"They call me Jinx." the vampire rasped.

'There is a reason he didn't tell me his real name when I asked for it,' Altair thought. 'I will have to look into this and his history with Draven.'

"Do you know the penalty if you fail?"

Jinx nodded slowly. "I do, my Elder. But I do not fear it. I will not fail."

Altair scanned the vampire's face. This vampire interested him. When he came back he would be sure to call him in to talk again. "You may leave. I want the job completed soon."

"Yes, my Elder. Thank you."

Jinx spun on his heel and calmly walked out of the room, a sinister smirk. It had been a long time since he had seen Draven. Much to long. His revenge was long over due. He had been told not to bother with the Childe, but what the Elder didn't know wouldn't hurt him. He was going to hurt Draven and make him suffer. He was going to hurt him like Draven. The poor boy who was unfortunate enough to be Draven's Childe had his pity. Perhaps he would help the boy. He need help, since once Draven was dead he was going to have some problems. Oh well. That was something that couldn't be helped.

Because nothing, absoulty nothing was going to stop him from murdering Draven. He had waited long enough. There would be no mercy for Draven. No mercy at all.