Summary: AU. The life of one for the life of another, such is the way of the vampire. Draco Malfoy, a powerful vampire, has come to collect the blood debt owed to him by Vernon Dursley. His nephew, Harry Potter, will be the one to pay the price.

Author's Notes: Greetings and salutations, dearest readers!

I honestly just couldn't get this story out of my head, so I decided to go ahead and get a start on it. This is my lovely little AU vampire story. I've gone with Draco as the other male lead, mainly because it's easier to write him as sexy and seductive.

Don't worry, though, I'm going to continue updating both "The Warriors" and "Tender." I'm nearly finished with "Tender," though. I find I can usually keep two stories going at once fairly easily.

I'm basically creating an entire universe here. The system of time, the idea behind blood debts --and perhaps even the history of my little world -- will be explained as the story progresses. I would also like to point out that some aspects of this story may seem odd or a little disturbing. I apologize in advance. If you don't like it, don't read it, of course.

At any rate, I hope you all enjoy my take on the vampire genre.

And don't worry. I plan on going ahead with the sequel to "Tender" a little later. I love the story, but I need time to plan the sequel. And this story just happened to be fresh in my mind.

Expect an update on ""The Warriors" soon!

Prologue: Vernon Dursley's Blood Debt.

Dursley Estates, West Rectorland, 4532 S.C.

Draco Malfoy smoothed a few strands of white-blonde hair away from his eyes. He was growing tired of Vernon Dursley's incessant droning. The man looked more like a pig, really.

His eyes were beady and far too small for his face. Liberal amounts of flesh spilled over the colloar of his garish robes. The man was blonde, but not in the way Draco was blonde. Dursley's hair resembled a clump of butter. The man's skin was uneven.

Vernon Dursley was unattractive to say the least. To say the most, he was a walking waste of human flesh.

Draco took a long sip of the wine Dursley had offered him. As a general rule, the vampire had no taste for wine. He took it just to be polite.

Now he wished nothing more than to throw the wine in the man's face.

Draco was relaxing in what he assumed was the most comfortable chair in the Dursley household. He was very nearly sinking into the cushions.

The hall spoke of tasteless excess. It made Draco ill.

"I don't believe you know who you're dealing with, Dursley," Draco drawled slowly. "I believe it was my actions that have kept you in power. You owe me a debt. Since I find you, undesirable, to say the least, the cost will have to be paid by a member of your family. Such is a blood debt. Even I cannot change such ancient things."

Dursley gave a slight, gurgling laugh. He rubbed his hands togther, as if he were thinking. Draco himself doubted Dursley was capable of such an action.

Then again, Draco mused, people could be surprising.

"You know my wife's nephew has been left in our care," Dursley said slowly. "I will give you the boy. He is a bit of trouble, but he is family. I will not give you my son."

Draco shook his head, as if he were being as paitent as possible. "I do not wish your nephew, Dursley. I wish your son. Those were the terms of our agreement. I want your son. Your nephew is not as dear to you, such as obvious. The entire point of a blood debt, Dursley, is to pay dearly for it."

Draco was sure Dursley was droning on about something again. He wasn't paying attention, however.

Something far more interesting was toddling through the doorway.

A small, black haired boy in ratty robes had entered the room. The boy was small for his age and rather pale. His little bare feet tottered on the cobblestone floor. Draco thought the child looked sad.

The little boy had the greenest eyes Draco had ever seen. He smirked slightly. He would grow up to be rather handsome, Draco knew.

Draco had lived long enough to tell exactly what sort of children grew up into attractive adults. Nearly 300 years of life had allowed him to see many generations be born, reproduce and die.

There was little point to it all, in his mind.

Draco found himself wondering if this boy was Vernon Dursley's son. Somehow, he doubted it. The boy seemed fey. He was light. He was almost other-worldly. Dursley, with his ample flesh and loud demeanor, was firmly anchored to reality.

Dursley scowled. "Boy! I told you to stay out of here! Nothing but trouble, that's what you are. Nothing but trouble."

The little boy looked as if he barely understood. He cocked his messy black head to the side and made a slight, gurgling sound.

"Want Mommy and Daddy!" the child said, rather loudly. Draco noticed that Dursley turned bright red.

"Your parents are dead, boy. You should get used to it," Draco almost flinched at the harshness in Dursley's words.

The child looked as if he might cry. His green eyes welled with glittering tears.

"Mommy and Daddy gone away?" he snifled.

Dursley didn't respond to this. Tears ran out of the child's eyes, falling onto his pale cheeks. Draco felt pity for the orphan.

"I don't think, Dursley," Draco said softly, "that one should talk to a child in that manner. I doubt he understands what you are saying to him. He can't be anymore than two summers in age."

Vernon turned his attention to Draco, smirking slightly. "Aye, two summers in age. We've had him for several months now. His name is Harry Potter. The boy is the child of my wife's late sister and her husband."

Draco nodded slightly. "Can I meet your own son, then, Dursley?" Draco's voice was mild. "Why don't you go fetch him for me? I shall watch Harry here."

Draco barely noticed when Vernon Dursley left. He only realized that the company in the room had improved considerably.

The little green-eyed boy looked up at Draco curiously. Draco motioned him closer.

"Come here, Harry. I will not hurt you," Draco whispered. His voice had a hypnotic quality to it. He wished to put Harry at ease, and draw him closer.

The boy's eyes glazed over slightly. He approached Draco. Draco reached down and gently patted his soft, dark hair. "You seem to be a sweet little boy. I wonder how you ended up here."

"You know where Mommy and Daddy are?" the boy asked. Draco shook his head and gently touched Harry's cheek.

Harry offered Draco no answers. Draco honestly didn't expect him to.

A loud, wailing scream broke Draco from his thoughts. Dursley re-entered the room, carrying something that resembled a baby whale.

Draco wanted to groan. The boy must be Dursley's son. He was certainly plump, blonde and loud enough to pass as a Dursley.

Draco's eyes flitted from the screaming child to the calm, quiet green-eyed boy. It wasn't much of a choice, really. He would take Harry even though he doubted the loss of his nephew would cause Dursley much grief.

A soft sigh escaped Draco's lips. "Your son is insufferable. I do, however, find your nephew to be rather agreeable. I will take Harry to pay your blood debt."

Dursley nodded slightly. "You'll be taking him now, then?"

There was a note of delight in Dursley's voice that made Draco ill. He would not take the boy now.

"No, I won't be taking him now. I will come for him when he is of age," Draco said.

The fact that Vernon Dursley looked disappointed at Draco's words made the blonde vampire almost consider taking Harry with him. He found that he didn't want the boy hurt.

Such would not be the case, however. He did not wish to raise the child.

What he wished was all the life and fire the young man would bring to him.

"Leave the room for a moment, Dursley. I should like to speak to young Harry alone," Draco muttered.

Draco found that he was surpised how quickly the piggish man and his lump of a child left the room. Draco was alone with Harry. The boy looked a bit frightened. He was staring at his bare little feet. His green eyes were hidden by his shaggy hair.

Draco picked him up and looked at him very carefully. Almost instinctually, the boy turned his eyes to Draco. Draco paused for a moment and smiled as he lowered Harry down into the chair.

He was very pleased with his choice.

"When you're older," Draco said softly, "I'll come back for you. Vernon Dursley has transferred his blood debt to you, child."

Harry simply stared at him. He blinked owlishly. Draco smoothed back the hair away from Harry's forehead. Draco placed his cold hand on Harry's forehead and muttered the well-known ancient words of the blood debt.

"Your blood for your debt. The life of one for the life of another. Bound forever by blood, you belong to me," Draco muttered softly.

He pulled his hand away from Harry's forehead. The child now bore the distinct bolt-shaped mark of Zeus. Even the gods recognized the blood debt. All those placed under the blood debt carried such a mark.

No one else would touch him now.

Pleased, Draco placed the boy back on the cold floor. Harry shivered slightly and watched Draco. He touched his forehead with small hands and giggled.

"Feel good!" Harry squealed. Draco smiled. The transfer had worked.

The place where he was marked would tingle pleasantly whenever Draco wished to convey

feelings of pleasure. It would burn if Draco wished it to convey displeasure.

Though Draco doubted he would ever wish to make Harry Potter's mark burn. He did, however, like the idea of making the neglected boy feel protected.

"Farewell, Harry Potter. I will return for you at the appointed time," Draco whispered.

And Draco Malfoy was gone.

Chapter One: Harry's Birthday

Dursley Estates, West Rectorland, 4550 S.C

Harry Potter had grown up. Today was Harry's birthday. He was now 20 summers in age.

Harry was a young man of average height. He had a slight build, messy black hair and bright green eyes. A scar shaped like the bolt of Zeus marred the middle of his forehead.

Harry thought it was a strange marking. He had no idea what it was or where it came from. It had simply always been there.

Sometimes it would tingle in a soft, pleasurable way. In those short moments, Harry would feel strangely protected.

The feeling was odd, really. Harry usually didn't feel protected. His relatives certainly didn't care to make him feel safe.

Harry never told anyone besides Ron and Hermione about that, though. Most people thought he was slightly odd anyway. Mentioning the mark would just make matters worse.

He didn't smile often. When he did smile, it was usually because he was in the presense of his two best friends -- Ron and Hermione Weasley. They were a young couple who had recently completed the Ceremony of Binding. The pair worked in the stables at the Dursley estate.

Harry had elected to spend his birthday away from the estate. His relatives paid him little attention. Besides, he was happiest in the stables, working alongside Ron and Hermione.

At the moment, Harry Potter was walking into the stables. He opened the heavy wood door and took a few steps inside, his feet crunching gently against the straw floor.

"Ron! Hermione! I'm here!" Harry called to his friends.

"Over here, Harry!" a voice feminine voice answered from the back stall.

Harry walked the length of the stable and slid into the last stall. A young woman with bushy brown hair, friendly brown eyes, and the tattered robes of a stablehand peeked out from beneath a pile of straw.

"Happy birthday, Harry!" Hermione cried. She flew out of the straw and flung her arms around Harry's neck, giving him a warm, friendly hug.

Harry wrapped his arms around her and hugged tightly. He loved Hermione. She had always been a good friend to him. "Thanks, Madam Weasley," Harry joked gently. "It's a good birthday now that I'm here, as opposed to with my relatives."

Hermione laughed humorlessly. Harry knew his friend hated the way Harry's aunt, uncle and cousin treated him. There was nothing anyone could do about it, though. Harry dealt with it as best he could.

Harry pulled a peice of straw from Hermione's bushy hair and laughed softly. "Besides, I come into my own inheritance today, you know. I'm of age now. It's not much, I know, but it's a small estate nearby."

Hermione smiled softly and straightened the collar of Harry's hand-me-down robes. They had once belonged to Dudley Dursley, who was roughly the size of a whale. They were far too big for Harry.

"I'm glad, Harry. Naturally, Ron and I will be most pleased to be away from here as well," Hermione said with a smile.

"I'm just happy you're going to come with me. I can't promise you much more than a room at the estate, but it's good to know I won't be alone there," Harry said.

Hermione's face broke out into a genuine grin. It lit up here eyes, Harry noticed. In moments like these, he could see why Ron Weasley was so taken with her. "We're friends, Harry. No matter what, we're going to go at it together. Besides, you can't get the estate off the ground without us! It's been abandoned ever since your parents died, hasn't it?"

Harry nodded slowly. "It has. I can't even remember living there. I don't even know what it looks like. I just know it's the Potters' ancestral home. It's only right that I should live there." Harry laughed a little. "Besides, why in all the fires of Hades would I wish to stay here?"

Hermione nodded grimly and grabbed Harry's hand firmly in her own. Harry noticed that Hermione's small hands were rough from callouses.

The life of a stablehand was difficult, yet Ron and Hermione both seemed so happy. Harry suposed the sort of love they shared was the reason why.

"Come on! Let's go outside. Ron's out there, and we've got a present for you!" Hermione laughed as she pulled Harry out the back door of the stable and into the bright sunlight.

A small wooden table, three chairs, and a cake covered in white frosting greeted them. Ron, a gangly young man with flaming red hair, was already seated at the table.

"Happy birthday, Harry!" Ron said, motioning to the chair beside him. "Take a seat! Hermione used our sugar rations for a month to bake this for you."

Harry slid into the seat beside Ron. Hermione sat across the table from him and began slicing the cake. She handed the first, and largest, slice to Harry before cutting smaller ones for Ron and herself.

"You didn't have to do that, Hermione," Harry said around a mouthful of cake. "But it sure is good."

Hermione smiled, taking a dainty bite. "I didn't have to, no, but I wanted to. You deserve a good birthday, Harry."

"Besides, it's not like those damned Dursleys are going to be giving you a cake. We just like seeing you happy, Harry. That's all," Ron said. "So, when are we moving to Potter Estates?"

Harry shrugged slightly. "As soon as we can. I legally inherit it tommorrow. We can leave tonight, if you wish. Hell, I don't want to spend another minute at this place, you know."

"I don't blame you there, mate. Hell, it's bad in the stables. I can't imagine what it's like living with them," Ron said, helping himself to a second slice of Hermione's cake.

"It's not as bad as you'd think. Vernon only smacks me around a few times a week. Other than that, they basically ignore me," Harry answered. He gave a humorless laugh and licked some sweet icing off his fingers. "Very good cake, Madam Weasley."

Hermione laughed. "It's a very special recipe. The real Madam Weasley gave it to me."

The real Madam Weasley, everyone knew, was the mother of Ron, his five brothers and his sister. She was a formidable woman when angered, but generally very kind. She'd almost immediately taken to Harry and accepted Hermione as a daughter.

Ron and Hermione both laughed. Harry, however, didn't. He was occupied by something else entirely. His scar was acting up.

He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the familiar, pulsating wave of pleasure from his strange scar. It felt as if gentle fingers were brushing his forehead, touching his cheek. Harry thought he could see the strange, gray eyes he sometimes saw in his dreams.

The sensation was over as quickly as it began.

"Scar again, mate?" Ron asked.

"Yeah," Harry answered, taking another bite of the cake. "I don't know what it is, or why it does that. It's really strange, isn't it?"

Hermione shook her head. " That's not a usual scar, you know. It's some sort of marking, I'd wager."

"Knowing my luck," Harry said with a smirk. "It's probably nothing good."

Draco Malfoy watched as a very grown-up Harry Potter ate cake with his friends.

The boy had certainly grown. He wasn't very tall, but he seemed to be quite strong. His eyes were still wide and green. His hair still looked as if it needed a good combing.

He was still wearing ragged clothing, Draco noticed with a growl. He idly wondered where the gold he had been sending the Dursleys for Harry's care had gone.

Probably to purcahse another trinket for the whale-like Dudley Dursley, the vampire mused.

Draco would deal with that later.

Draco had been watching Harry for years. He would come to Dursley Estates sometimes, just to see how his little blood debt was doing.

He'd watched as Harry started running wild through the woods and spending all his time in the stables. He'd watched Harry cry alone in the woods over the way his relatives treated him.

Draco wanted to interfer in those moments, but he knew he could not. He had to let fate draw its course. He couldn't be near Harry until Harry was ready to accept the debt.

He'd also watched as Harry made friends with the young Weasley couple. Draco had often fought off bouts of jealousy because of that relationship. He wanted to be the one close to Harry.

Harry was ready now, though. He was young, strong and of age. Draco smiled gently at Harry, watching as the boy licked creamy icing off his fingers. He enjoyed Harry. The boy had no inhibitions. He took pleasure in life, even when life treated him badly. He would be an excellent payment for Vernon Dursley's blood debt.

The boy was worth far more than anything Draco had ever done for Vernon Dursley.

Draco softly fingered the trinket in the pocket of his robes. He'd brought Harry a birthday present.

Tonight, he would be able to give the boy his gift in person.

Harry Potter had been summoned to the hall. Such things almost never happened.

He assumed his uncle Vernon was in the mood to smack him around a bit.

Harry had been told by the messenger who dragged him away from the stables that he was to put on his best robes and be in the hall by sunset.

For some reason, Harry decided to comply with his uncle's request. He wondered why he came down at all. He should have been packing his belongings -- what little of them there were, anyway.

Harry hesitated for the barest second before walking through the door.

Harry was surprised to see Vernon Dursley seated across from a very tall, very aristocratic blonde man.

Harry knew his uncle was a social climbing bastard. He would be very much wanting to impress a man like this. Perhaps he was the key to the higher relams of society Dursley so wished to be welcomed into.

A sadistic smile crossed Harry's face. This could be enjoyable. Perhaps he could extract just a small bit of revenge in his last hours with his relatives.

"Harry, my boy! Come, have a seat next to our guest, here! He's someone I'd like you to meet," Vernon said.

Harry shuddered. It was as if his uncle was trying to sound fond of him.

Harry smirked. He was leaving Dursley Estates in a matter of hours, anyway. Perhaps it would be fun to toy with his social climbing uncle.

"Uncle, let's drop the facade, shall we? I'm sure it's painful for you to pretend you enjoy my company. It's quite obvious you're lying, actually. You look as if your face is about to explode," Harry said as gracelessly plopped down into the chair next to the blonde man.

"Besides, I'm leaving to claim my own damn estates in a few hours. How about you smack me around a bit, for old time's sake?" Harry laughed, though there was no humor in it.

For the first time in years, Vernon Dursley was silent. His mouth opened and closed, like the mouth of a dying fish. Harry could have sworn the blonde man found it amusing. The corners of his mouth quirked up slightly.

Harry then turned his attention to the blonde man, a wry grin crossing his face. "And who the Hell might you be?"

The blonde man turned to Harry, giving him a soft, gentle smile. "I suppose I should introduce myself, though we've met before. My name is Draco Malfoy, Harry. I've come to give you a birthday gift."

Harry was confused now. "A birthday gift? I don't even know you, and you're giving me a birthday gift?"

The blonde man gave Harry a slight nod. Cold hands placed a small golden dragon figurine with emerald eyes in Harry's upturned palm.

No one had ever given Harry such a gift before. It was lovely. The eyes seemed to glow with life. It was, no doubt, very expensive.

"It's beautiful," Harry whispered softly. "I don't think I can accept it, however. Gifts like this usually require something in return....."

Draco smiled at Harry. "I require nothing but what I was already promised -- you."

Harry was speechless. The gold and emerald dragon clattered to the floor.

More Author's Notes: Wow! I've written a lot so far, haven't I?

I'd like to point out that, in my little universe, very powerful vampires, like Draco, can be outdoors during the daylight. I know it sounds strange, but you'll all learn about vampire society, traditions, ect. when Draco explains it to Harry in the coming chapters.

Do you love it? Do you hate it? Let me know what you think! Remember, all reviewers have the pleasure of rocking my socks!!!