The Bleeding Bite_ Drarry_ Three-shot

𝟐. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲.

CW: Mention of situations related to death and abuse. Recurrent suicidal thoughts and certain reflections that may affect the reader's sensitivity.

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"And all his thoughts had turned red: he was unable to think of anything but the warm metallic taste, and the vital effervescence of blood."

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The next part is more complicated to relate than the previous one, that's why I'm going to start by clarifying that I'm not "immortal":

Will I live to be a thousand years old, or even older? Yes. Will I still look twenty? Yes. Can I be beaten up for a long time and recover instantly? Yes.

Yet I am just as vulnerable as the average person. One killing curse and that's as far as I'll go, one lethal car accident, one fire (considering I'm flammable on the side) (hence the reason for vampires' bad reputation with heat/sun).

The longest living vampire lived to be ten thousand years old, at a certain point it's years plus, years minus. He died after his hundredth wife stabbed him in the heart.

That immortality thing is such a strange thing. In itself it means condemning people to watch the people they hold dear, and love die, fade away like foam.

Many people would like to live twice as long to accomplish all their projects, but in my case, we are talking about living indefinitely. To go through all the catastrophes of the world, to see again how we repeat the same mistakes.

That is why I am obliged, if I don't want to go to a mental health hospital, to have sessions with my psychologist and take those pills that make me lie down for hours; so that the idea of suicide is no longer present in my head.

We vampires are the creatures with the highest suicide rates, because if you don't belong to the vampiric upper class (which is a strange pseudo-association) (which I'll talk about later), you're only left with misery.

Honestly, I think I've used up my share of eternity misery.

Anyway, back to the point. Regeneration is real, painful, my greatest strength and weakness. I learned that a few years ago, that maybe it was better when you stayed in bed recovering, rather than going through the torture repeatedly.

I learned it the hard way.

I'm going to need some wine to relive this.

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I'll be honest, the worst tortures are the psychological ones. Those in which they play with your brain and annoy you even at rest time. The physical ones hurt, but it's momentary. I don't even remember the pain of a crucio, and I've been the victim of several. I know I wouldn't want to suffer another one, but that would be much better than the mental.

In between there is one more category; sexual.

What happens when all three are mixed in a banquet?

I didn't fall into madness because of three factors; first, my family, as I was able to endure all that if it assured me that none of my loved ones would bear the same, second, the idea that it was all going to end, that happy days would come, that my life had a hope for a prosperous future, and third; Potter.

Potter. Only him, I didn't care how or where, I took comfort in his person. I remembered our stupid fights that I laughed about in the future.

I was locked up, stripped of my possessions, delegated to be a mere object. I served him, and he could do what he wanted with me, if he wanted to continue living. That was my only option.