A/N: Alright…here's the deal. I was really really really sick of reading "Harry was so mad that he turned into a vampire and became emo" all of the time…so I made a humor/parody/romance/slash about Harry becoming one. There is a lot of OOC and I guess it has to be a bit AU if Harry becomes a mythological creature…but there you have it. NOW, if you read this chapter and think it completely sucks…I won't continue the story. It was just a random idea that popped into my head and I thought- hey! What the heck…why not write this story? Oh, by the way…this is a HarryxDraco…if you don't like it…what's wrong with you!? Yeah…soo…ON WITH THE STORY!

Disclaimer: No…I do not own Harry…or Draco…or anything Harry Potter related sobs

I'm deciding that this story takes place…erm…seventh year…and HBP never happened…because I love Draco and it would be easier if Harry didn't hate him for the horrible thing he did, and I'll just leave it at that because some people (I HAVE NO IDEA WHY!) might not have read the sixth book.

Chapter One: I think I just killed Lord Voldemort

It was close to midnight and Harry was snuggling into bed, his favorite pink stuffed elephant at his side. He glanced at the obnoxious red light illuminating from the clock. It read, 11:58. Harry removed his glasses and placed them on the nightstand. Two minutes before I come of age, finally. With those last thoughts, Harry drifted into sleep. Suddenly, a pain like no other erupted inside of Harry. He awoke with a startled jerk and fell off his bed, shaking; he looked down and saw that he was lying in a pool of his own blood. Shuddering, he became aware of the fact that—just kidding. Harry slept through the entire thing.

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It was either the smell of burnt toast or pounding headache of Harry's that woke him up in the morning. He opened his eyes wearily and looked around his room. Damn. He was hoping to wake up and have a shit load of presents, but then again…he didn't really have any friends so he would only receive like…four anyway. He stumbled out of bed and got dressed in the dark, his morning routine. He only noticed something odd while brushing his hair. He doubled back at the mirror in his wardrobe…but he didn't see his reflection. He simply…wasn't there.

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Voldemort was currently sitting in his Evil Lair of DOOM. Lucius Malfoy walked into the room, his white-blond hair blowing in the nonexistent wind.

"Ah, Lucius…my main…" Voldemort quickly looked down at the writing on his hand, "home slice."

"Yes, my Lord. You called?"

"Yes, I did." He spun in a circle, causing his robes to billow in dramatic effect. "Now, Lucius, do you know what day it is?"

"Wednesday."

"No…"

"July 31st?"

"YES! Do you know what main event happens on this day!?"

"Oh! Prince Ronald Mutebi was crowned King of Uganda!"

Voldemort stared at the Death Eater for a moment. "No…it is Harry Potter's Birthday!"

"With all do respect Lord…why should we care?"

"BECAUSE! It is his seventeenth birthday!"

"Ahh….you've lost me."

"FOOL!" he screamed, flames surrounding him. "Damnit!" he cried stomping at the flames. Once he was no longer on fire he turned back to Lucius. "Now…Today young Mr. Potter is turning seventeen. That my dear friend means that he is of age, which means that lovely protection spell on his humble abode, is GONE!"

"AH! WE ATTACK AT DAWN!"

"No you fool…we can just go right now, why wait another day?"

"I'm sorry, my lord…I've just always wanted to say that…"

"Yes…well…I'm taking this particular journey alone… "WHEN I RETURN, HE WILL BE NO MORE!" and he vanished in a blaze of fire. "DAMNIT!"

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Voldemort appeared on Privet Drive with a faint pop. He looked around the street and saw people watering their gardens, retrieving the newspaper. "Blast…I should have worn a disguise." He pulled out a pair of sunglasses with unnecessary flourish and started looking at the addresses. Was it number four…or six? Hmmm….he thought. "Oh well, I'll just try both of them. He walked up to the door and barged into the house, switched on his 'Evil Villain Music of the Nineties' cassette and started maliciously laughing. "OH HARRY, COME OUT AND PLAY!" he roared. "Blast…" he turned off his cassette tape and looked at the scene in front of him.

A family of four was sitting at their breakfast table, all looking at him wide-eyed, and mouths open in a silent scream. The little girl dropped her fork with a clang.

"I'll just…I'll umm…" he stammered, picking up the door and putting it back on its hinges. "Good day." and he walked out the door.

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Harry was still staring at his mirror. "What the hell?" He looked down and could see himself just fine…but why wasn't there a reflection? Harry made a double take on his arm. It was so…fucking pale. No cuts, scars, or bruises that usually covered his arms were present. No, contrary to popular belief, he was not beaten and/or raped by his uncle…he just got a little roughed up from freaking save the world once a year. He looked at himself. He seemed a bit scrawnier, but not like a small child or anything. He just seemed more…delicate, though not in a bad way. He stretched for to the top of his wardrobe to get his glasses, but…he couldn't reach…What the fuck? Did I shrink, too!? He pondered miserably. He jumped a few times trying to obtain them, but only managed to bang his head in the process. But that's when he realized…he didn't need them. He gasped in surprise, he could see, in the dark nonetheless. He walked over to his window to pull open the blinds…

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"Alright…I guess it was four. Number four Privet Drive." Voldemort muttered to himself. He walked up to the door. "Hmm…no cars in the driveway…Alohamora." The door clicked open. "Now…let's see…" he pulled out a map and followed it to a door covered in locks that was labeled on the map as Harry's room. (No, I have no idea how Lord Voldemort got a floor plan of the Dursley's house…or how he knows their address, SHUT UP!) After unbolting the various locks, and muttering passwords he opened the door…DUN…DUN…DUN…

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Now children…this might be a little difficult to explain…but stick with me here!

Harry pulled open the blinds at exactly the same moment Lord Voldemort came waltzing through the door. Sunlight burst through the window, blinding Harry. "HOLY FUCKING-"

"AVADA KED-"

Harry spun on the spot away from the window. Eyes still closed, he was had a small panic attack. "OH MY GOD! IT BURNS!" he opened them a bit, "OH MY GOD! VOLDEMORT!"

Completely scared out of his wits, Harry hadn't the faintest clue as to how or why but a large pair of black wings erupted from his back. They were so huge, and powerful that they even managed to catch Lord Voldemort off guard. One wing smashed into his stomach, while Harry turned around stupidly, trying to get away from both Voldemort, the sunlight, and find his wand. He heard a crash, a scream and a sickening crunch. Harry looked down to find a pair of sunglasses on the ground. He picked them up and shoved them onto the bridge of his nose. Finally, the burning stopped. He walked over to the window and realized…He had thrown Lord Voldemort out of a window. And judging by the amount of blood…he was dead. Then he became conscious of the fact that he had just killed someone and sprouted wings at the same time. The Dursley's car unexpectedly rolled up the drive way. Oh, fuck it.