It all starts with wind coming through the window of your bedroom and ends with you in a dark alley.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
You pull your walking stick close to your side and look out into the shadow, searching for a shimmer in the air.
A deep breath and you can nearly taste it in your bones; for once grateful for the power you wield beneath your fingertips.
The darkness is so much more evident when you're alone and you curse yourself for stupidly following a feeling. Feelings have gotten you into too much trouble your entire life.
An involuntary shielding spell comes through you at a sudden rasped, "Just death," that causes you to nearly jump out of your skin.
Especially when you realize what it is you're seeing.
You've never seen a vampire before but the burning in your hands tells you this is one.
It looks to be dying, but you can see its eyes clearly through the dark. You're thirty-three, not eighty. "Walking death? You look it."
The vampire's eyes glow and shimmer red, then you hear amusement in its voice.
"Hopefully by the end of the night, I won't have much look to me at all."
Your skin is on fire and you have to struggle to speak. "Wh...why?"
The vampire steps close once and you jump back, gasping.
"Twitchy little ferret, aren't you?"
Your eyes are wider than they've ever been, making the contrast in your eyes and skin that much more evident. You're now more your original color.
The vampire looks at you blankly and asks, "Potter? Who's Potter?" looking more lost than ever before.
The name doesn't sit well with the vampire's mind because it steps back, shaking its head.
"I don't know that name."
You step closer to it and it steps back, looking frightened. "Yes, you do. Harry..."
Harry shakes his head violently, mumbling, "No, no, no, no," over and over again.
You don't dare move.
The demon that's taken control of Harry's body, the vampire in virginal flesh, finally stops fighting and slides down to the pavement in defeat.
You whisper a protection spell under your breath and the air sparks with it, moving towards Harry and settling right on his chest. When he looks at you again his eyes are familiar bright green but still completely lost.
He does not remember you.
You search his eyes for any sign, even a tiny flicker of happiness or relief at seeing you and find none.
He does not remember.
"Potter, do you know what year it is?"
He stands up shakily, holding on to the brick wall for support. "2001, right after graduation. You," he looks at you, then his eyes widen and he steps back again.
You smile. "As you can see, it's much later than that."
He stares at you for what seems like forever, taking in the years etched onto your face like blueprints of the last fifteen years spent looking.
And he looks not a day over 18.
"You're old," comes the whisper, the fear in his voice replaced by wonder.
You nod. "And you're not. That's what becoming a vampire will do to you."
He looks down for a moment, nodding. "Yes I did, didn't I? It...it was...after."
You swallow and whisper, your voice breaking, "We couldn't find you. We..."
Harry nods, licking his lips and thinking. "We?"
"Hermione, Weasley, and I. Weasley...he disappeared not long after on one of our searches but we found his body."
His eyes fill with tears over the loss and a part of you hates the jealous burn in your chest that Weasley could still hold a place in his mind while you've all but been obliterated. A part of you wants to tell him what you and Granger had both thought at the time, that Harry had killed Ron, but don't. It doesn't matter.
"W..." he whispers, his voice shaking.
You hold out your hand. "Come with me and I'll take you to her."
His eyes inspect your hand, then look up at your face, and he smiles. "We kissed."
You blink. "I...yes, we did."
You swallow. "Yes. It was."
He just shakes his head walking ahead of you, quick even at his slowest pace.
You take the time to stare, half of you hoping he doesn't have questions and the other half desperately wishing he would. When he stops suddenly and turns, his eyes just a bit red, you feel his hunger in the air.
He licks at his mouth and nods. "I...I don't usually take from good people...I..."
You walk towards him and hold out your arm, but he shakes his head. "Can I?"
It's your neck he wants. Your skin tingles and you're trembling at the possibility but you nod, tilting your head. When his teeth pierce your skin it's like a direct line to his brain, feeling and power overwhelming and you moan while he sucks softly.
You see swirls of images, and see yourself, as both a giver of life and a lover. You're still there, in his mind. The image of your first and last time with a man is in front of you and you pull away wincing at the pain but not able to continue.
Harry licks at his mouth and his eyes shine, now with gratitude and lust combined.
"We were lovers," he hisses.
You're sure he can smell your hard-on from here.
"Once. Only once."
He reaches out and you flinch. "We have to get to Hermione by dawn or you'll burn."
There's something in his eyes that you have to look away from, walking ahead of him and searching for a good place to apparate.
You ignore him and walk further down the alley then stop. "Yes?"
Harry walks around you and stands close enough that you can feel his breath on your face. "I was in love with you."
You fight the urge to show emotion and swallow. "I didn't know that."
He touches your face with his fingertips, grazing them down the side of your cheek. "I'm sure you did."
You apparate then, taking you both inside yours and Hermione's apartment where she's asleep on the couch watching "EastEnders." You can see tearstains on her cheeks.
Harry's taking in his surroundings and you reach out to wake her. "'mione. Love, wake up."
She blinks her eyes open and then they're wide, horribly wide, and you silence her scream before it comes with a "Silencio."
"It's all right."
She stares at you, tears in her eyes, and then looks at Harry before mouthing, 'Vampire.'
She bursts into tears and you let her cry while you go to Harry.
He frowns at you. "I don't remember loving you but I felt it, in your blood."
You swallow. "Does that happen a lot? Do you..."
You don't have much to say to that. "I have a place for you to sleep," you whisper before taking his hand and leading him into your bedroom.
The curtains are open and you see him in the moonlight, beautiful and deadly. For a moment you want nothing more than to feel his teeth again but instead open your closet door and turn on the light. There's a blanket and pillows inside, down: Harry's favorite.
"It's a little tight."
"There's no holes or anything. I've...slept in it before."
Harry doesn't ask why and just steps inside, turning to you again closer than is comfortable. You swallow and let him touch your cheek again. "You're afraid of me."
He smiles. "I'd never hurt you. And I didn't kill Ron."
He closes the door and you're left standing there, speechless.
You had no idea vampires could read people's minds.
His voice in your head and you nearly run from the room, going back to Hermione.
She's awake, drinking tea.
"He's a vampire, "she whispers, like it's a dirty word.
You sit next to her. "He told me he didn't kill Ron."
She looks at you, red-eyed, and whispers, "He told you?"
You sigh. "He can read my bloody mind, apparently. Took him a hell of a long time to tell me though."
She smiles, laughs, tears still falling down her face. "You're going to have to keep the Count Vlad fantasies down to a minimum then."
You poke her and she smiles, leaning her head on your shoulder.
"He doesn't remember me."
"He knows he loved me for a while but he doesn't remember why or how."
"I could tell, just by the way he looked at you."
You look at her questioningly and she looks sadly wistful. "Harry used to look like at you like he wanted you and now...he looks like he's fascinated by you."
You don't know what to say to that, so you kiss her on the forehead and whisper, "Goodnight love," turning towards your bedroom door.
"I...if it helps, I don't believe he's completely gone."
You don't answer, walking into your room and locking the door behind you.
The room is completely dark but you don't turn on a light, instead stripping off your shirt and kicking off your shoes. You stand in front of the mirror above your dresser and stare blankly at yourself.
You look older than your thirty-three years. Time has been kind enough to allow few wrinkles and you've kept yourself in much better shape than you were even at eighteen, but your eyes are deader than they've ever been and you have even darker circles than Harry does.
And it's not like you have to beg women for sex. Your name is your line, but women aren't lining up to be with you either.
Not that you care either way.
You pull open the dresser and find some sweatpants, stepping out of your jeans and stepping into them. They're loose, but everything is these days. You'd been tracking Harry for two days without sleep or food when you found him.
The bed feels hot when you climb into it but you close your eyes anyway, trying to will yourself into sleep.
It isn't long before you feel much, much colder.
You don't move, closing your eyes and feigning sleep in hopes that he'll go away.
"You still smell like her."
You open your eyes but don't turn around. "Who?"
"The last woman you fucked."
You turn then, and look him in the eye. "That was months ago."
His eyes are glowing red in the dark and you widen yours in response, half-terrified and half-aroused. He traces a line down your chest and stops at your stomach. "Still...you smell like her. Blonde?"
Harry smiles. "No gentlemen on your menu lately?"
You stare him down. "No."
He leans in close again, his mouth a mere centimeter away from your own. "You still smell like me, too."
You still don't move and he licks your lips, making you groan out loud.
"I don't like the closet."
You laugh, suddenly and unexpectedly, feeling so insane that you just might scream. "I noticed."
Harry, whose skin is so pale it's almost see-through, smiles against your mouth as he kisses you softly barely touching. "I don't like your curtains either. I can see the moon."
You sigh and he runs a finger down the side of your throat, touching the mark he left there. It still stings and you're sure you're still bleeding.
"You're still bleeding, you know."
He licks across it and his tongue is harsh and warm, burning right into your veins. Your hands move involuntarily of your mind and rest on the back of his head, pushing him closer and he makes no move to bite. He takes your hands away and whispers softly into your ear, "Sleep, Draco. I'll protect you."
The words are like magic and you fall instantly, everything else melting away.
It's noon when you open your eyes and the room is nearly dark but for some bits of sun that Harry had foreseen.
You sit up and crawl out of bed, going to the closet and looking inside. He's asleep with his back to you, curled up in the fetal position and snoring.
You resist the urge to lay down next to him and close the door, going to unlock your own and stepping out into the full sunlight.
Hermione has gone to work; she's the head of the Department of Mysteries and makes substantial money doing so. You, on the other hand, live off your trust fund and inheritance (from your mother, not your father) like a good rich boy should.
You conjure up some food and eat quickly before going back into your room. Harry is still asleep when you check him again, so you take a shower and dress.
Which kills about another hour, but it's still only two.
You stare at your hands and then the idea comes to you. A minute later the windows are secure and the room is lit only by lamplight.
You check on Harry again.
He's still asleep.
You lie down in your bed and stare up at the ceiling. There's nothing to do anymore. Nothing to check up on, no leads to follow your next clue to where he may be. He's here.
The closet door opens and you turn your head.
Harry looks around the room with eyes like a newborn, his fingers grazing everything as he walks around the room in a half circle. "This," he looks at you,"...is a cold room."
You blink. "Cold?"
He nods, picking up his own wand and observing it like it's the first time. "Cold. Lonely. Bitter. Frozen," he looks at you with Harry's eyes and Harry's face, but you see nothing left of the man-boy you've been in love with for the last fifteen years.
"Frozen. You mean me, don't you?"
You glare. "I'm not..."
He sits on your desk chair and leans his elbow on the back of it, looking at you with amusement in his eyes. You almost smile back but bite back the impulse.
"You dreamt of me," he whispers, nearly grinning.
You swallow. "I..."
"And it was not of me before."
You can feel your heartbeat quickening in your chest and curse yourself for letting him get to you so easily. "Just because I dreamt about you, it doesn't mean that I wasn't just confusing you in my head, Potter."
You blink. "What?"
He does grin now. "In your dreams, you called me Harry."
You move to sit up and suddenly he's on you, holding you down. "Potter..."
Harry leans down and takes a deep breath, smelling the air around you. "Harry."
You sigh. "Fine. Harry, this...I don't want this."
He laughs and whispers in your ear, "I can read your mind, remember?"
You lick your lips and whisper, "Just because I...it doesn't mean..."
He licks your lips for you and whispers back, "Of course not."
You swallow and he nuzzles your nose, making you sigh. Your dick is getting harder with each move he makes and he knows it, by the determined look on his face when he grinds into you. "You're not Harry," you whisper, closing your eyes as he playfully nips at the skin beneath your chin.
Harry smiles against your skin and whispers, "So you keep saying...and thinking."
He deftly opens your shirt, licking at your shoulder as the skin comes into view. You mumble a spell under your breath and it disappears. He laughs. "Are these the actions of a man in denial or a man..."
"Under a spell."
Harry lifts his head from your shoulder and looks down into your eyes. "No. I think you'd know if you were."
He's right, of course, because you've been under more spells than most people. Both of you have, but you're sure he doesn't think that way. Vampires are mostly selfish creatures and when you don't give them what they want, it's usually taken by force.
He hisses suddenly, his eyes reddening as he takes himself off of you with a growl.
You're confused and maybe disappointed, sure that it shows all over your face.
"What's...?" you begin, before he cuts you off.
"I would never take you by force. Never," he jumps on you again, pinning you down and glaring down with his red devil eyes "Those are actions of a coward and to even put me in with," he stops, his chest moving up and down involuntarily in an angry muscle memory of panting.
Your eyes widen as you realize what it is he's talking of.
You feel yourself begin to hyperventilate and he holds you down, eyes slowly turning back normal again as he becomes worried. There are tears on your face and he runs his hand down the left side slowly, deliberately you're sure.
You have to swallow before you speak. "You..."
He's kissing you before the words can escape, but the memory calls itself forward without warning, making him growl as he plunges further into your mouth in attempt to rid you of it completely.
But it won't stop.
The pulling, tearing, angry taunts and laughter as they held you, whispering, "Traitor," and "Potter's whore," while you stared up at Goyle, who was enjoying it most of all.
Then suddenly there was light and they all were struck back at once, freeing you before it could happen. And then...
You're kissing him back before you can even think, rolling the two of you over and pulling at his clothes at the same time, the tears drying as you move, biting at his skin and making him growl in approval.
Fire and ice, life and death, moving together; you can't remember it being like this before.
You're both naked and Harry rolls again, trapping you and smiling as he slides down your body and starts to suck. Up and down, round and round, while you thrash and curse, pulling at his hair hard enough to hurt.
"Yes, oh fuck...yes. Love you so much..."
He caresses your thighs in approval before moving his mouth to them, licking and laughing as you growl in frustration.
"Harry," he whispers, back at your lips again in a flash of movement not at all human.
By now, you don't really care.
He could be a snake inside that skin and you'd gladly beg for more.
Laughter again and he presses his forehead against your own, staring you down.
Any words die on your lips and you reach up to kiss him softly, lips barely brushing.
All movement stops and you whisper, "Not yet," hoping he'll take your meaning.
Your lips are licked, and just like before, you groan and whisper, "Bite me."
His smile alone is worth the weakness.
Harry grinds into you repeatedly, bringing you closer and closer before he hisses and bites.
Your hips lift completely off the bed when you come, grinding against his and bringing him over the edge. He bites harder and you're crying and laughing, your hand in his hair as he takes what he needs.
"Mine," comes the whisper as he licks your wound.
You shudder and nod mutely, closing your eyes. It's the truth, even if you still won't admit to it.
After that one night, you're no longer sleeping alone. The windows all soon have shades on them till nightfall and you're giving blood so often that Hermione says you look about ten years younger.
And while the two of you play, and Harry bites, he also reads.
Harry loves to read.
You sit on the couch together and sometimes curl up against his back as his voice lulls you to dream impossible dreams that the two of you can share more often than not.
But it doesn't mean anything. Not really.
Because you haven't technically had sex yet. You asked to wait and Harry shows no signs of anger over it, happily taking you in every other way possible as long as you allow him.
It's been almost a month when Hermione confronts you. You're surprised it wasn't sooner.
Harry's asleep, since it's not yet ten, and the two of you are watching cartoons when she says it.
"I'm moving out."
You look at her and nod, licking your lips and chewing on cereal that Harry insists you buy even though he doesn't need to eat. "I thought you might," you say.
She looks like she wants you to stop her, but you don't. "It's just that..."
She looks away and you catch tears in her eyes. "No, that's not it. It's...not fair."
You know you shouldn't be allowed anger at her words, but it's there anyway. Enough that you bite your tongue to keep from saying something you'll regret.
"I just...he was gone. It was...you kept looking and I never really believed. Not after Ron, not after..." she isn't able to finish, bursting into tears and burying her head into the couch.
You swallow and whisper, "Would it make you feel better if I said he's not the same?"
She looks up at you with a watery smile. "No."
She takes your hand and comes close, whispering, "I've seen you look at him. You worshipped Harry when he was alive. He saved your life, he helped you become a better person," she wipes her face with the other hand and sniffles, "And when you look at him now...you...you're in love with him."
You let go of her hands and stand. "I'm not."
"Draco...you can't honestly expect me not to see otherwise."
You don't look her in the eye or deny it again, trying to keep from apparating off somewhere that isn't here. Her smile is in every word she says and you just wish she hadn't said anything.
"I think it's wonderful but I just...I can't do this anymore. I can't watch you experience falling in love with the same man twice while I hardly had a first time around."
You grind your teeth together and hiss out, "I'm not in love with him."
She's laughing when the bedroom door opens and he's there, smiling at you like he knows everything and damnitt, he does. Stupid mind-reading vampires.
He regards Hermione with shared amusement, then walks towards her and leans down to whisper something in her ear. When he pulls back she looks radiant, so much more alive than you've ever seen her look before in her entire life. She kisses him on the mouth and presses her forehead to his before whispering, "Take care of him."
Harry, no it's not Harry it's a vampire, nods once and when he leaves the room you can feel his breath on your skin although he never once looked your way.
With Hermione gone the air is thinner than before and you can't stop yourself when you kiss him because there's no reason not to, and when you laugh at things he says sometimes it's not because you're used to him or think he's funny or cute or anything.
It must be a mind trick.
You're so convinced of the fact that you deliberately try not to think about what you're thinking about for a full day. You sit at the table eating chips that Harry just had to have from some grease pit and look normal.
You're doing a fantastic job.
The voice scares you into falling off your chair, staring at him with wide eyes and backing away as quick as you can. He hadn't done that more than once and you'd forgotten.
Harry tosses a chip into his mouth, grinning around his food with pointed teeth. "I know."
He looks like he wants to laugh. "I know. Believe me, Draco. If you didn't spend every single day drilling the thought into your own head, I'm more than sure I'd know without you trying to drill it into mine."
You sit back down and conjure up juice, eyeing Harry over the glass.
His eyes light up half the room, knowing the routine--your subtle hints of "bitemebitemebiteme" that you're sure is written on your forehead in bright red letters when you do it--and loving to watch you try.
Which is why the question comes out suddenly, changing everything.
"Do you love me?"
He blinks, smiles slyly, and whispers, "No, not at all."
Your smile lights up the remainder of the room.