Obligations 2, Part One
Title: Obligations 2 (in two parts)
Author: ZS
Rating: R, slash
Disclaimer: HP & its characters are not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Words: ~15,600
Summary: A follow-up to Obligations.
Notes: Special thanks to dacro and millefiori who inspired me to start writing this story; extra special thanks to luzmaria8, who inspired me to keep writing.
Harry woke up with a scream echoing in his ears. He sat up, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead. These days, it was difficult to distinguish between scar pain, and regular old headaches and nightmares.
It had been nearly a month since Dumbledore had brokered an alliance with Draco and his vampires using Harry as the bargaining chip. Since then, Harry had been able to think of little else.
He'd woken up on the soft patch of grass to see Draco preparing to leave, and too weak to do much about it. Remus had arrived moments later as dawn broke, relief plain on his face as he caught sight of Harry unscathed but for a clean, white bandage on his wrist.
The two puncture wounds had faded a few days later after Harry had been released from Hogwarts' infirmary. Being there had made Harry feel like a student all over again, but this time, it hadn't been because of simple Quidditch injuries or stomach flues. Madam Pomfrey had been disturbingly thorough in her examination to ensure Harry was unharmed. She'd made copious notes on his 'condition'. Harry had caught glimpses of strange terms like "the After-Bite Effect" followed by a question mark in his chart, but really, he'd felt fine--good, even--and thought nothing of it.
He didn't remember much about the bite itself; the memory of the pain had been overridden by the memory of the scent of night-blooming flowers enfolding him and Draco's deep grey eyes.
Feeling overheated and like his skin was too confining, Harry threw off his blankets and groaned. His voice echoed off the walls of his huge, private rooms. Living alone in a cavernous room was a distinct change from what he'd been used to. No snoring, shuffling or shifting roommates; just the crackle and snap of the low burning fireplace and his own loud breathing.
He missed being part of Hogwarts's school body. While he'd never liked to stand out in a crowd, he'd always enjoyed the busy transition time between classes and the crowded, raucous Great Hall. Now, even though he had permission to eat at the Head Table with the other professors, he always felt like an outsider; belonging neither there, nor at the House tables. Hermione and Ron used to seek him out to sit with him, finding him tucked away in the farthest corner of the kitchens. But they had started to find reasons to leave, and increasingly, Harry could not bring himself to ask them to stay.
They had their own lives, anyway. Dumbledore had taken on several able and willing wizards and witches to serve as assistants to some of the tenured professors so they would have more time to devote to the Order, and Hermione and Ron had been the first to volunteer. Hermione was teaching some of the basic coursework in Charms, and Ron was serving as Hooch's assistant. It had been months already, and still, Harry wasn't used to walking through the halls and seeing Hermione ushering bright-eyed first years into the Charms classroom and hearing choruses of elementary 'swish and flick!' through the doors. He wasn't used to looking out the windows of his quarters and seeing Ron fly by on a broom, corralling an overeager potential Chaser back to earth.
Even stranger was seeing Remus at Hogwarts again and not be taking Defense lessons from him; instead, Harry watched him disappear along with Dumbledore and other members of the Order to attend clandestine meetings behind closed doors.
It was bizarre not to be going to regular classes at all. In fact, right after Harry had officially finished his last year of schooling, he was segued immediately into private lessons at Hogwarts to prepare for the war. Harry did have other duties, however, but they were more informal. When he wasn't in lessons-which was most of the day, when his professors were busy with teaching and supervision-he had a slew of miscellaneous jobs. Harry suspected these tasks had been assigned to him to keep him out of trouble-cleaning the tools in the greenhouses, ordering stock for the Potions laboratories, and maintaining the spells on the Quidditch pitch which kept it free from weeds-but he didn't mind the excuse to be alone.
This was Harry's life: lessons, meals, and disrupted sleep, all on an endless repeat cycle.
***
Harry hurried: he was late for his Defense lessons with Professor Antonio Rafael Dominguez-Rafael, as he'd asked to be called. Harry had been skeptical about yet another Defense professor, but Rafael had been personally vetted by Dumbledore, who'd chosen him specifically for his expertise in Occlumency and Legilimency, and his ability to prove that he was precisely who he claimed to be without evil headwraps or the need to drink from a mysterious flask every hour on the hour.
Still, Harry had met with him with a knot of trepidation in his stomach. Rafael had a silky accent that had made the hair on Harry's neck prickle the first time he'd heard it. He seemed to favour wearing ties-that habit reminded Harry of Lockhart-and it seemed to Harry that he hadn't worn the same one twice since he'd started teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts to the rest of the Hogwarts' students, and privately to Harry, several months ago.
They'd started slowly, with Harry defending against direct, low-intensity attacks. Trust was important, Rafael had said. Harry had disagreed: wasn't it better to practice with someone he was already suspicious of?
The true test would come, Rafael had countered, when Harry was able to defend against someone he already innately trusted. And Harry, already wary from being betrayed too many times, couldn't find argument with that.
Seventh year had been emotionally devastating. Through several bold attacks that had crippled the Order of several of its most powerful members (they'd lost McGonagall and Moody in the same one-night assault), and more subtle sabotages that had turned entire communities of wizards against them, they had been left bereft of allies.
Harry hated the way even the adults had begun to stare at him with bare desperation.
Rafael, however, hadn't been party to any of this, and as a result, Harry felt surprisingly comfortable with him. It also meant that he was often surprised by Rafael's Legilimency attacks and spent much of their lessons on the floor.
"Legilimens!"
The force of Rafael's spell caused Harry to stumble backwards. His equilibrium faltered; the floor rushed up to meet him, but he didn't feel the impact for the overwhelming pain in his head.
He gasped.
The onslaught of Rafael's magic felt like needles penetrating his skin, targeting his soft inner forearms and the soles of his feet. He felt overwhelmed, too much pain and too little control. Rafael was inside his head, and Harry could feel him rifling through his mind like it was a cheap magazine.
Harry writhed and tried to focus his energy on forcing Rafael out. Rafael could see right through him; Harry was certain of this. He bet that if Snape could see him right now, he'd be appalled by his lack of focus and discipline and inability to concentrate-
When Harry surfaced from having his mind stripped clean, his throat was raw and his ears were ringing, like he'd been screaming
He pushed off his cloak, which had become too hot and too constricting. The feeling that he'd been suffocating wouldn't abate and he touched his neck just to be sure.
"Harry. Are you all right?"
Rafael clasped Harry's hand in his own and helped him sit up. Harry felt like a wrecking crew had gone into his head and demolished everything in sight. His sight lines were blurry, and Rafael's face distorted and expanded.
"Sitting," he said, pushing Rafael away when he tried to help Harry stand. "I think I'll stick with sitting for now. I'm not improving much, am I?"
"You've made significant progress since we first started working together. However… you seemed to have reached a plateau. Perhaps if you were to verbalize what you are feeling…"
"I suppose," Harry allowed, "it's just… different defending against your Legilimency."
"Can you elaborate?"
Harry took a deep breath. "Well, Professor Snape's Legilimency used to feel like a train derailing inside my head. It felt like he would be trying to get me to relive my most humiliating experiences; I guess he figured that would make me most debilitated. And with Voldemort… well, it was more of a possession, like you said. But… I don't think I can explain it," he said. The truth was that he didn't want to explain, didn't want to go into details. Professing ignorance was just simpler. "I suppose every Legilimens has a different style?"
"You are correct. Just as your style of Occlumency is unique to you."
Harry rubbed his forehead. He was starting to feel better, and smiled. "That's an insult, isn't it."
Rafael only laughed. "Up, boy. The night is young, and you still have much to learn."
***
Despite Harry's attempts to stay far away from the Hogwarts' student body, he had been coerced by Dumbledore into making at least a weekly appearance at the Head Table. Today, he was squeezed between Hermione and Professor Flitwick and they were discussing their upcoming lesson plans. Harry pushed his breakfast around his plate and felt strongly that he would prefer lying naked in a nest of hatching spider eggs to this.
"Good morning, students!"
Harry looked up. Dumbledore was at his lectern and waiting for the students' attention.
"Some time today, we will be welcoming guests to Hogwarts. Please note, however, that while you are welcome to acknowledge them if you see them in the halls, you must give them a wide berth while they are here. Also, the corridors leading up to and including the rooms in the south wing of the Dungeons are strictly off limits for the duration of their stay."
Dumbledore did not elaborate on these visitors or what their purpose was at the school. Still, whoever they were, Harry hoped they would take the pressure off the scrutiny he was feeling to be battle-ready at the drop of a hat; Rafael would often discuss his progress reports with Dumbledore, and lately, Harry had the feeling that Rafael was feeling less than happy with his development.
***
They arrived just after ten o'clock that evening.
Harry, on his way to his Charms lesson with Flitwick, had been distracted by the sounds of foreign voices echoing off the walls. He ran towards the front entrance, intending to hide behind one of the suit of arms that lined the front hall, but the sight that greeted him made him forget entirely about his plans.
Draco Malfoy.
Harry gaped. Aside from Draco, he recognized a few of the other vampires from his mission a month earlier, as well as a few blood donors who stayed near the rear of the group. All the vampires were obviously dressed to make an impression: pressed formal robes in lush fabrics and colors. They walked up to where Dumbledore was waiting, along with Remus and several other members of the Order that Harry recognized but didn't know.
"Hello, Headmaster," Draco said. "I apologize for our early arrival."
"Not at all. Come, I'll show you to your rooms. We'll begin tomorrow evening, if that is amenable?"
Harry startled as he realized that everyone was heading in his direction, and there wasn't even a remote chance that he would not be seen on the staircase. He backed up against the wall as Dumbledore passed by.
"Mr. Potter, you have lessons, do you not?"
Harry could only nod.
Dumbledore inclined his head solemnly and continued up the stairs. Draco, however, gestured for the rest of his group to follow, and hung back. Every one of them glanced at Harry as they passed, and Harry felt incredibly self-conscious.
"Harry," Draco said, with a hint of a smile.
"You have an entourage." Harry was certain he was gaping.
Malfoy smirked. "And it's bigger than yours."
"What's happening? What are you doing here?"
"Nobody's told you? You should ask," Draco said. He turned and left, the hem of his cloak brushing Harry's ankles.
Harry was curious and wanted to follow, but Flitwick would kill him if he was late for his Charms lesson. He'd have to figure it out later.
***
Flitwick kept him late, and it was nearly midnight by the time Harry left his Charms lesson. His mind was filled with new spells and new incantations as he walked down the quiet halls.
Flitwick had deflected any and all questions about Draco and covert meetings after dark, alternatively feigning hard-of-hearing and having a distracting spray of sparks fly out from his wand. Frustrated, Harry had made the decision to find out the only way that seemed to yield any results at Hogwarts: clandestine investigation.
His Marauder's Map was secured away in his footlocker and he unfolded it as he walked. He could see Draco's footsteps stationary, and sure enough, they were in the south wing of the Dungeons.
Harry knocked on the door before he could talk himself out of it, and the door swung open almost immediately.
"Hello?"
Harry recognized the man at the door as the person he'd watched be bitten at Draco's castle.
"Hi. Um. I'm looking for Draco Malfoy. He's not expecting me," Harry added quickly, unable to keep his eyes from drifting down towards the man's neck.
"I'll check with him."
The door closed in Harry's face and immediately, Harry had reservations. He hadn't heard from Draco at all since his mission; what exactly did he expect to accomplish here?
"Harry?"
Harry looked up again as the door opened.
"I'm Max. Draco has asked me to see you in."
Max swung the door wide open and Harry stepped through. He'd never been in this part of the castle before, and he guessed that it had been altered to suit Draco's needs. What had seemed like a small room from the outside opened up into a large sitting area complete with fireplace and living room suite.
"I know it's late," Harry said, taking a seat.
Max gave him a smile. "They're just waking up, actually; Draco will be out soon."
He vanished behind another door, leaving Harry alone.
The fire crackled and the wood popped, and Harry felt a chill against the back of his neck. Goosebumps prickled down his arms and back, and instinctively, he curled his fingers around his wand.
Something tickled his ear.
"Boo!"
With a shout, Harry was off the couch and aiming his wand at the gossamer sheen of a ghost. At first, Harry thought it was Peeves. But the laughter was different, higher-pitched and oh-so-familiar. When the ghost looked at him, still giggling, Harry was shocked to realize that he knew her.
"Parkinson?" he said, trying to figure out a way to stop gaping.
"Potter," she gasped, now clutching her sides. She was wearing her Slytherin uniform, which Harry found vaguely unsettling. A green ribbon was tied around her neck. "Your reaction was absolutely priceless."
"What are you doing here?"
"Other than scaring the pants off you?" she said.
Around the same time that Draco had gone missing last year, Pansy's body had turned up in a wooded area outside Hogsmeade. The details had been kept to a minimum, and it was only later that Harry began to think that it may have been for reasons other than to spare the dreams of small children.
"I was not scared," Harry protested lamely.
Pansy smirked. "I'm keeping you company until Draco gets his primped arse out here."
"Primped arse?"
At the sound of Draco's voice, Harry turned. Dressed in grey trousers and a dark outer robe, Draco walked over to them. He was carrying an armload of parchments and an ink-smudged quill, which he set on the table.
"You know it is," Pansy said.
"Go, Pansy," Draco said, and Pansy vanished with a final triumphant look in Harry's direction. "Hello, Harry. It's good to see you."
Harry could feel the warmth of Draco's smile through to his bones.
"Working late?" he said, nodding towards the parchments.
"Mm. I haven't slept much lately."
Draco waved his wand and a violet-trimmed tea set appeared. While Draco set about preparing his tea, Harry's mind began supplying Harry with images of just what might lie beyond the door to Draco's bedroom.
"Do you really sleep in a coffin?" Harry blurted out.
"Oh, honestly, Potter," Draco laughed. "Don't be daft. Coffins were traditionally used as safety devices only, actually, as vampires sleep rather soundly. However, I prefer a bed and a door with a lock on it."
"Mmhmm," Harry said distractedly, watching Draco put sugar in his tea. "Also. You're drinking tea. You can drink tea?"
"I can drink tea," Draco said, amused. "You can too, if you pause a moment from your gawking."
Harry blinked. "Err. Sorry. It's just. Yeah."
"I understand," Draco said, and Harry got the distinct feeling Draco was laughing at him from behind his teacup.
"What are you doing here?" Harry said, taking a moment to prepare his own cup of tea.
"You still haven't found out?"
"I've been in lessons all night, and Flitwick wasn't exactly offering answers."
"I really don't think I'm the one who should be telling you."
"Why not?"
"It's not my place."
"Since when has that stopped you before?"
Draco smiled. "Point taken. However, I think under these circumstances, it's best you don't hear it from a third party."
"Fine. So how long are you going to be at Hogwarts?"
"A few days only."
"Are you… going to be having some free time between your meetings?"
"Maybe." Draco looked him up and down. "What did you have in mind?"
"Nothing," Harry said quickly. "I just thought maybe…" He broke off when he noticed that Draco was looking distinctly uncomfortable. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Draco said. "You just thought what?" The façade didn't last long; he set down his cup heavily and touched his stomach, wincing.
"Draco?"
Harry's voice was echoed by Max, who had returned.
"I'm fine, Max."
"It isn't a good idea to put these things off; you remember what happened the first time you tried to deny it?"
"Please don't remind me."
Harry looked between the two of them. "What's going on?"
"I've been skipping meals," Draco said. "It's catching up to me."
"Caught up to you," Max amended.
"Um," Harry said. "I think it's time for me to go." He was nearly out the door before he heard Draco calling his name.
"Night after tomorrow?" Draco said. He already had his arm around Max's waist, and was drawing him closer.
"Okay," Harry said, and fled.
***
The next day, Harry spotted Remus as he walked down the corridor. Harry felt a glimmer of nostalgia; he remembered a time when he felt comfortable talking about his fears and nightmares with Remus. Since the deal with Draco, however, Harry suddenly found it easier to make up excuses why he didn't have time to talk. Still, Remus was sitting in on the meetings with Dumbledore and the others, and Harry forced his legs to carry him down the hall towards him and stand in front of the magically sealed doorway through which the meetings were taking place.
"Another meeting?" he inquired as causally as he could manage.
Remus had dark smudges under his eyes and his cheekbones were sallow. Harry hadn't kept track of the moon's phases and he wondered if the next full moon was close or if the weariness was due to stress.
"Another meeting," Remus said. Harry immediately got the sense that Remus was uncomfortable, which only fueled his desire to know what was going on.
"I saw Draco Malfoy and some other vampires arrive last night. What are they doing here? It has something to do with the contract, doesn’t it?"
Remus looked at the door that Harry was standing in front of. "You should really talk to-"
"Nobody will tell me anything. At least tell me why they're here. Is something happening? Has something happened?"
"Nothing's happened, Harry. They're just here to discuss some of the progress the Order has made regarding Voldemort's moves and plans. But it's more than that: it's Draco's first opportunity to prove that he's upholding his end of the deal."
"So what am I doing out here?"
Harry pushed on the doors to prove his point; the locking spells held.
"Dumbledore thought it best to keep you out of it. For now, of course."
"What are you talking about? I should be inside. I'm part of the deal, am I not?"
"Of course you are, Harry. You're the arrow."
Harry tilted his head, and for the first time, saw Remus in a strange new light.
"I don't believe this."
He whirled and stalked away, his footsteps loud on the stone floor. He heard Remus call after him, but he ignored him, ignored everything, including the bottom step of the staircase which he stumbled on, the puddle which he splashed through, and the tightness in his throat through which he could barely draw breath.
Rain drizzled, and Harry's glasses became spotted with water. He hurled himself up against the outside of Hagrid's hut which had been boarded up and empty since Hagrid had disappeared, and tried to catch his breath.
"Harry. Hey, Harry!"
Harry looked up to see Ron hovering on his broomstick at treetop height and then slowly descending. A gaggle of Slytherin students appeared behind him-Harry guessed they'd been working on their fine motor flying through the woods-and god. Harry did not want to talk to anyone right now, and he looked in vain for an escape route. Ron touched down and shoved up his goggles into his damp hair. A concerned look passed over his face. "You all right?"
"Fine, fine. Just out for a stroll."
"Yeah," Ron said, turning to smoothly deflect a Jumbo Spit Wad with the back of his wrist blocker. "Two points from Slytherin, Alberni," he said, and a brown-haired boy's smirk immediately turned into dismay. "And I'm making you personally responsible for making sure all the brooms are properly put back into the storage room. Off you go."
After making sure the students were moving at an acceptable pace, Ron turned back to Harry with a self-effacing grin. "After two months, they're still testing me. And it's not just the Slytherins. Two days ago, the Gryffindors tried to deflate my broom's Cushioning Charm before class. Can you believe that?"
Harry laughed, glad the shakiness he felt wasn't seeping into his voice. "It's never easy," he said.
Ron grinned and pushed a hand through his hair. "Now you tell me. Look, I have to make sure that Alberni's not trying to pass off his responsibilities onto some first year who happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. But we should get together for tea some time soon, mate; we live in the same place, and yet I feel like I never see you anymore."
"Yeah," Harry said. "Some time soon."
"Good. Tomorrow? I'll come find you."
With a wave, Ron trudged down the muddy path towards the castle. Harry made sure he was out of sight, took a deep breath, and slumped down onto the ground.
***
Another lesson; another splitting headache. Another bout of regaining his senses and finding himself sprawled inelegantly on the floor of the classroom.
While Snape had drilled Harry constantly, Raphael preferred stealth tactics. He would try to slip, unnoticed, into Harry's mind while Harry was distracted-either being talked to, or being the one talking.
When Harry would finally realize what was going on, it would be too late. Rafael would have already had time to rifle through Harry's thoughts and memories like an intruder checking drawers and closets for valuables, leaving everything else in his wake a mess, and leaving Harry with the vague sense of being violated.
"Tell me about this boy."
Harry pushed his hair out of his face and closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, he saw Rafael holding out a goblet of water.
"Thanks," Harry said, and took a long drink. "What boy?"
"The one in so many of your recent memories. He is blond, and quite…" Rafael made a motion with his fingers.
"Pointy?" Harry interpreted, at a bit of a loss.
Rafael laughed. "Yes. Pointy."
"He's… a friend."
"Ah. He features quite prominently in those memories you do not wish me to see."
Harry rubbed the back of his neck, trying to hide his rising blush. He was going to have to work harder to prevent his private life from becoming public.
"It's complicated."
Harry didn't want to talk about Draco. Everything he felt was too new and too confusing to be shared with anyone just yet, especially someone he didn't know well.
"He's here in the castle, is he not? I think, perhaps, I have seen him in the corridors." Rafael studied Harry briefly before smiling. "I do not wish to pry. I have found that sometimes the more vehemently one tries to keep something guarded, the more attention one draws to it."
"What does that mean, exactly?"
"You've told me about your experience being possessed by the Dark Lord. He seeks to find your weaknesses and exploit them. These are the memories I find behind the darkest doors, buried beneath the deepest shadows."
"So you're saying that I should show Voldemort exactly what my weaknesses are? How does that help me?"
"They would no longer be your weaknesses."
"Basically, you're telling me to deal with all my issues."
"What ammunition would the Dark Lord have if he was unable to manipulate your mind?"
Harry sighed. If it were only that easy.
***
After his lessons, Harry went to find Hermione. He wasn't eager to discuss Draco with anyone, really, but sometimes her analytical mind made it impossible to feel self-conscious while talking about such personal issues. He was counting on that tonight.
He pushed open the door of her shared office with Flitwick. Most often, she could be found here after hours working on the next day's lesson or discussing best practices with Flitwick.
"Hermione?"
The office was empty, but Harry recognized Hermione's desk right away. It was a cacophony of books and parchments. Right in front was an open textbook marked with the feathered portion of a well-used quill. Next to it was a book filled with her precise, neat handwriting.
The last sentence she'd written caught Harry's eye.
…effect's actual existence is still disputed by foremost vampire experts around the world…
Frowning, Harry moved closer and flipped the book so he could read its spine: Legacy of Blood. Then, he noticed the other books on her desk. Monsters With Our Faces. After Dark: A Compendium of Vampire Fact and Fiction. Volumes five through thirteen of Journals of a Vampire Hunter.
Harry picked up one of the books and flipped it over to the tab that Hermione had marked. "Chapter Twelve: The After-Bite Effect". There was that strange phrase again, the one he'd seen Madam Pomfrey write in his chart. Harry closed the book, feeling a cold weight settle into his stomach. As far as he knew, Hermione's class was studying color-changing charms.
Why would she be researching vampires?
Harry sighed. Why else would she be researching them? First Dumbledore and Remus, and now Hermione: they probably thought he was incapable of taking care of himself, that he needed protecting. Suddenly feeling sick, Harry stormed out.
***
Harry was on his way back to his room when he heard someone call his name. He looked up and saw Ron approaching, holding two brooms. Harry's stomach dropped. He'd forgotten all about meeting up with Ron, and he was not in the mood for putting on a happy face and pretending he was all right.
"Ron," he said, as Ron neared him. "I really don't think..."
"Shut up and listen," Ron said, and Harry's jaw snapped shut. "I'm only going to say this once. You know that if you ever need-"
"Yeah," Harry said. "I do."
They did not look at each other for a long moment.
"Okay," Harry said.
"Good." Ron sucked in a deep breath and let it out. He shoved a broom into Harry's hand. "Let's go."
While waiting for Ron to chase away some curfew-breaking students from the Quidditch Pitch, Harry realized that he was still holding one of Hermione's books. He leafed through several chapters, lingering just a bit on Chapter Twelve: The After-Bite Effect.
...phenomenon between a vampire and his or her donor which occurs at the onset of a bite...
Harry shook his head. He wasn't in the right mindset for research. When Ron waved him onto the Pitch, he was more than happy to leave the book and the earth behind. Harry hadn't been on a broom in weeks, and it took him a while to remember to relax and breathe. He watched Ron for a few moments, diving and slicing through the air with reckless disregard for his own safety. Harry flew a parallel pattern until he started to feel confident again, relearning the joyful abandon that came from giving himself over to the experience of the wind whipping his robes and the roar of his heart.
They flew until the light disappeared behind the horizon. And it was only when Harry pulled out of a twisting dive that stole his breath that he noticed that he and Ron were being watched.
Draco stood at the edge of the Quidditch pitch, face upturned.
Ron pulled up beside Harry, shoved up his goggles, and followed his sight lines.
"Um," he said vaguely. "I was about to call it a night; early class tomorrow. Alternatively, I was thinking about staying up and having a Butterbeer." He looked at Harry with raised eyebrows.
"You have an early class tomorrow," he said with a grateful smile.
"Are you sure?"
Harry looked back down at Draco, who had climbed the stairs to sit on one of the bleachers.
"I'm sure," he said.
Ron nodded at him and flew off towards the broom storage lockers. Harry angled his broom downwards and gently flew down to Malfoy's level.
"Hi," he said, pushing up his goggles. Malfoy was standing now, and giving him an appraising look.
"I didn't intend to run Weasley off."
"You didn't. He had to leave anyway." Harry swiped at the sweat on his forehead and said, "I need to shower and change. I'll see you on the Pitch in fifteen minutes?"
"I'll be there."
###
Draco watched Harry hurry back out onto the Pitch with damp hair and foggy glasses fifteen minutes later. It was starting to rain lightly, and the sky misted them both with fine droplets. As he fell into step beside Draco, Harry covered his head with his hood, obscuring most of his face from Draco's view.
"How was your meeting?" Harry said. Draco let him choose their direction, and they began walking down a path that was covered in pink-and-grey speckled pebbles. In the distance, he could hear the sound of running water.
"Tedious," Draco replied. "And your flight?"
"Painful," Harry laughed, rubbing his arms. "It's funny: I've lived at Hogwarts for the past year now, and I fly even less than I did when I was banned in fifth year." Harry's tone quickly sobered. "I keep coming back here," he said softly. "It's like that nightmare where they're chasing you, and no matter how fast you run, you know they're always just behind you."
"That's more of a nightmare cliché, Potter. Nobody actually has dreams like that. So Hogwarts isn't the haven it used to be."
Harry looked like he wanted to deny Draco's statement but he exhaled instead.
"Nothing's what it used to be. Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore… God. I want to look at Dumbledore and not feel so indebted to him. I want to look in the mirror and not feel… disgusted. I can't believe I just said that."
"Why? Because it's a lie?"
"It's actually completely true. And it's not something I should say. Sometimes I think I'll just leave here in the middle of the night. I'll go to Voldemort, and we'll have it out, and whatever happens will happen."
"Why don't you?"
"Because I'm not ready. Snape could bring me to my knees with a single spell and so can Rafael. Voldemort will wave his hand, and that'll be it. And then there will be nothing between him and what he wants. That stops me every time."
"Well, you-"
"Also, I don't want to die."
"Shall I not point out the obvious?"
"That everyone dies, eventually?"
Draco nodded.
"You won't die."
"Actually, that's untrue. Vampires age more slowly, but we still age. 'Eventually' is quite an apt term, considering. Besides, with the right implement, I could still be killed."
Something was on Harry's mind; Draco could tell by the weighty silence. Finally, Harry said, with just a touch of darkness, "I just realized how many dead people there are around me. You. Pansy."
"That's two, Potter. Two does not equal many."
Harry sighed softly. "Pansy's not the only ghost."
Draco wondered who he could have been thinking about; perhaps he was thinking about that convict that had been killed the same year his father had gone to Azkaban.
"Sometimes it's better to know for sure," Draco said without thinking. "My father…" And then he wished he hadn't said anything at all for the look that Harry got in his eyes.
"Don't you know where your father is?"
"You like doing the Order's dirty work, don't you."
"I don't… I didn't… what are you talking about?"
"That's what everyone is dying to ask me. Where's Lucius Malfoy?"
"So why don't you just tell them? What's it to you, anyway? He did this to you, and then he abandoned you."
"Is that what they're saying?" Draco snorted. "You have no idea what you're talking about."
"Then why don't you explain it to me?"
Draco had contacts with explicit instructions to search-albeit surreptitiously-for news of his father. Draco had always assumed he was still alive, more out of habit than having any real proof. He wasn't sure if it was out of blind optimism or the fact that his father had survived so much. He'd survived the first war, survived the Dark Lord's punishments, and Draco couldn't bring himself to even consider the alternative. He wasn't idealistic enough to believe that Harry would understand any of this, however. Instead, he decided to reveal as much truth as he felt both of them could handle.
"I haven't heard from my father in months. When I awoke from the change, I found myself in an unfamiliar room with locks on the doors. There were fresh bandages on my neck and stomach. A blood donor was there, and he had a letter from my father."
Draco waited while Harry mulled this over and for him to ask the inevitable question. He didn't have to wait long.
"What did the letter say?"
"That he had considered killing me because it would have been what I would have begged for, had he been there."
Draco got the sense that Harry didn't know what to say, so they walked in silence. The pebbles squelched underfoot, the underlying dirt muddy from the recent rains. The ground was littered with tree blossoms that hadn't managed to withstand the weather.
Finally, Harry said, "Is that true?"
Draco looked at him, but Harry was looking elsewhere. "Yes," he said, waiting for the admonishment that never came. He took a breath. "It was my second thought upon waking."
"And the first?"
"How hungry I was."
Harry pushed back his hood. He didn't say anything for a while and Draco suspected he was trying to figure out the best hex to use before running away and telling this all to Dumbledore. However, it was strange-and slightly terrifying-how easily the words were coming. The only other person he'd ever shared this with was Pansy.
"That's a natural reaction to the change, isn't it? One to three hours after waking is usually when the hunger starts."
"You've been reading up on vampires, I see."
"A bit. How much of what they say is true?"
"These are rather personal questions, don't you think?"
"Maybe."
Draco considered. "What do you want to know?"
"I don't know." Contrary to his words, however, Harry did seem to have something on his mind but appeared unwilling or unable to voice it. "Tell me... tell me what I could expect from you out on the battlefield."
"Well, we would be marginally effective against Dementors. Our good memories are muted; they aren't as easily taken. Our Patroni, therefore, are less reliable as a result. On the other hand, we're not as susceptible to Dementors as humans are. Our best asset is our impermeability to most threats that humans are vulnerable to. Contrary to popular belief, we do not burn at the drop of a hat. We don't require air to live; however, we may still breathe. We would be most effective for nocturnal attacks, as we are rather skilled at the art of the ambush."
Harry blinked at Draco. "You sound like you have that memorized."
"I do, actually." He laughed. "I was certain it would be a question that someone from the Order would ask me; I felt it best to be prepared."
"What else can you do now?"
Draco paused for a moment, letting his senses stretch out into their surroundings. "Well, I can tell you that someone is brewing Shrinking Potions in the dungeons. That the Giant Squid is awake. That you were in the presence of a woman who prefers spicy fragrances; I can smell her perfume. And that someone has been watching us since you joined me outside."
Harry spun around, but he saw nothing out of the ordinary.
"What? Who was it? Why didn't you say anything?"
"I didn't think it was anyone of consequence. Perhaps it was a student breaking curfew. Maybe it was just Pansy. We are at Hogwarts, you know."
Harry grumbled to himself, arms wrapped around his body. He rubbed at a sudden pinprick of pain in his neck. "A lot of terrible things happen at Hogwarts. You know that."
"I do. In any case, they've gone now. What else did you want to know?"
Harry took a deep breath to refocus. "All right. Hm. Can you fly?"
Draco snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. On the surface, being a vampire is just a change in physiology. My body merely requires different elements now to survive than it used to."
"Can you still eat regular food?"
"I can. In small quantities. Speaking of which… would you like a blood lolly?" Draco held out a dark red lollipop and Harry's eyes widened.
"Are you serious?"
"Absolutely," he said. When Harry gingerly accepted the candy, Draco pulled another from his pocket, tore the wrapper off and popped it into his mouth, using his tongue to shunt it to his cheek so he could talk. "Completely devoid of nutritional value," he said, smiling when Harry shrugged and followed suit. "Max was in Hogsmeade today; he picked up a few treats."
"He's really loyal to you," Harry said.
"Loyalty goes both ways."
They walked on, Draco obnoxiously slurping on his lollipop. Harry kept staring at him.
"What?" he said, only partly innocently.
"Nothing. It's just… this seems rather unlike you. Given your circumstances."
"Oh, Potter." He sucked hard on the candy before taking it out of his mouth so he could speak normally. "Being a vampire isn't all doom and gloom, you know. There are still some pleasures in life."
"Really. Like what?"
"Like sex."
Harry coughed and tried to cover it up. "What?"
"Sex. Vampires have a reputation for being amazing lovers for a reason."
"Oh yeah?" Harry said. "And what's that?" Now that he'd recovered from his initial shock, his statement was a challenge, a dare to see just how far Draco was willing to push this conversation. And Draco had never been one to back down from a challenge, especially one from Harry Potter.
He smiled slowly. "In part, because of our ability to sense changes in our partner's physiology. Fluctuations in heart rate, pupil size, skin reactivity, breath count. And in part, because of the watercolour effect. To us, everything is muted, including our ability to become aroused." Draco could feel the blush coming off Harry's body and he grinned. "So we need to take steps to ensure our partner's continued participation."
Now Harry stared at him, and Draco smirked back. The thrill of throwing Harry off-guard was still as satisfying as he remembered.
As soon as he recovered from his shock, Harry fumbled with his words, saying that he needed to get back inside the castle for some quickly fabricated and highly unlikely reason. Draco merely smiled at him and let him go.
***
Congratulating himself, Draco stretched out on the bench near the fountain. He wasn't alone for very long, however.
"You're going to scare him away," Pansy said, floating across the water in the fountain towards him.
Draco shook his head. "Hello? Have you never heard of privacy?"
"I've just been spying on the boys in the Prefect's bathroom; what do you think?" She drifted down next to him. "I heard you talking to Potter. Where did you get all that nonsense from?"
"It's all true."
"True for some vampires who've been around so long the machinery isn't working the way it used to back in the 1500's. Honestly. Why are you pushing him away? There aren't many who would choose to be with a vampire-don't give me that face, Draco Malfoy, you know I'm right-without the benefits that come from being a donor."
"It's all talk. Potter likes to push my buttons. He does not want to be with me. If it's not a result of the After-Bite Effect, it's because he's intrigued and needs a distraction from his own life. He isn't thinking clearly."
"He's obviously into you. Why not forget the reasons and give him what he wants?"
"He's unstable."
"Since when do you care?"
"Since he signed a contract that will help ensure that we're still around after the war ends. We need him."
"Which is precisely why you should feed on his pretty little neck. He gets what he wants, you get what you want, and everyone goes home happy."
"I do not want Potter's neck."
"Of course you don't. You want to sample Potter's other attributes. You can have him, Draco. Take him. Put him out of his misery. Give him what he wants and then send him off to kill the Dark Lord. There is nothing wrong with that. Or are you worried about that ridiculous After-Bite Effect nonsense?"
Draco sighed and closed his eyes.
"I didn't choose this."
"You still are who you are, Draco. Nothing's changed."
"Everything's changed."
"Nothing important."
Draco let out a slow breath and looked up at Pansy. Moonlight filtered through her translucent body.
"I miss you."
"You shouldn't."
"Why, because I shouldn't be subject to human emotions anymore?"
"Because no matter what happens, I'll always be right here."
***
Night had fallen, and Draco was beginning to feel the familiar pangs of hunger. He left Pansy to resume her spying and went in search of Max back in the castle.
He found Max reading in front of the fireplace in their common room, his feet propped up on pillows and a book in his lap. He looked up as Draco entered and used a bookmark to mark his place.
"I thought you'd be sleeping by now."
"I do know when you haven't eaten, you know."
As Draco sat on the coffee table, Max leaned forward, offering his neck. Draco tugged him forward even more, a hand at the back of his neck, and took a moment to savor the scent and feel of life so close at hand. He slid his lips across Max's throat, eyes closing at the feel of the plump vein quivering under his mouth.
And then, he couldn't help thinking of Harry coming out to meet him on the Pitch, his cheeks flushed from the heat of the showers and the exertion of flying. Harry hadn't thought twice about meeting him alone, outside, and under cover of darkness. They'd walked shoulder to shoulder, bumping into each other occasionally. Harry hadn't shown any signs of being afraid, even when Draco had pushed things a bit too far at the end.
Even though the hunger gnawed at him, Draco sat back. Max opened his eyes, puzzled, and his confusion augmented when Draco slid his hand down to Max's wrist and lifted it to his mouth.
***
Draco waited until Max had recovered enough to sit up before summoning a house elf to bring him a tray of food. Biscuits, too, Draco insisted, and he smiled smugly when the first item that Max chose off the tray was a chocolate chip cookie.
"Are you feeling all right?" Max said.
Draco looked up from the letter he had started to write. "Fine. Why do you ask?"
"I know that Harry's been attracting suspicion from his friends ever since we arrived by spending inordinate amounts of time with you. Did you ever consider that the Effect might be affecting you as well?"
Draco snorted. "Number one: it is not. Number two: it hasn't been proven to be real. And number three: it is not."
"So your attraction is real, then?" Max was teasing him. Draco narrowed his eyes. "And the fact that you chose my wrist once again…"
"I don't want to feed on him. Besides, those two things aren't related at all."
"Both acts are intimate," Max said. "Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference."
"Well, I can."
"The After-Bite Effect makes evolutionary sense, you know. On one hand, it makes the blood donors want to stay with their vampires. And on the other hand, it makes the vampires more likely to protect their donors. With biscuits." Max smiled and took another bite of his cookie. "Instead of… well. Going all the way."
"Is that how you think I feel about you?"
"It could explain why you didn't kill me the first time, when you couldn't ignore your hunger any longer."
"Funny," Draco said. "I'd always thought it was because I'm not a murderer."
"I didn't mean to imply you were." Max's hand wavered, the biscuit suddenly forgotten. Draco began picking up the staccato rhythm of Max's heartbeat and the fractional increase of white in his eyes.
"I realize that," he said. Max nodded, relieved, and resumed eating.
Draco, however, remained on edge. If he needed external mechanisms to talk him out of murder, was he nothing more than a monster with a muzzle?
###
"Hermione," Harry said, barging into her office and forgoing knocking entirely. His mind was still spinning from the conversation he'd had with Draco last night and he needed… he needed to know some things. "Can we talk?"
Open on her desks were the same books that had been there previously. She didn't even attempt to hide them.
"What's wrong?" she said, setting down her quill. Her fingers were stained red with ink.
"Obviously me," he said, gesturing, "according to your research."
"Harry," she said, frowning. "You probably can't see it yourself. But ever since you came back from Malfoy's, you've been different."
"Different, how?"
"You choose to spend time with him."
"Is that such a terrible thing? I mean, that's different from being under the influence of something. Am I acting dangerously? Do I seem out of control? Do you think he's put a spell on me?" He stared at Hermione when she didn't try to deny his accusations. "Are you serious?"
"Did you even read the book you took from my office?" she snapped, and Harry was so surprised by her reaction that he was rendered momentarily speechless. "Did you get to the part about the possibility of co-existing effects? That he might be as affected by you as you are by him?"
"What does that mean?"
"Interpretation is subjective," she said, her tone daring him to continue to push.
"Well, what's your interpretation? I… I really want to know," he added, at her skeptical look.
"Well… maybe as much as you're able to exert power over each other, you're also equally at each other's mercy."
"That sounds like the way it's always been."
"So maybe nothing's changed, and you have nothing to worry about."
"Oh, things have changed," Harry said. He looked at his shoes. "Lots of things."
Hermione tilted her head. "I've cross-referenced seven texts so far. Each of them says there's a distinct possibility that the feelings and thoughts you're experiencing which portray Malfoy in a favorable light are the direct result of being bitten by him."
"But the effect hasn't been proven beyond a reasonable doubt. And I'm sure there are an equal number of textbooks that say that the opposite is true."
"To whom are you trying to rationalize this, Harry?"
"You," Harry said. "Everyone. Everyone who keeps making plans about me without me."
"We're only trying to help."
"Stop helping," Harry said, more frustrated than ever, and stalked out.
***
"I need to know if I can trust him."
Harry couldn't believe he was sitting here on the classroom floor discussing Draco with Rafael, of all people, but he'd suddenly run out of confidants.
Rafael walked around him, the heels of his boots clicking on the floor. "Well, according to the contract, he is bound to offer assistance during combat."
"I'm not talking about combat. I'm talking about the in-between time when we're not fighting."
Harry felt a pang in his arm and rubbed if offhandedly. Rafael turned away. "Perhaps it is the nature of the contract itself which is impeding your ability to make sound decisions. What were the specifics of the contract?"
Harry paused. Dumbledore had expressly told him that the particulars of the contract were not to be discussed outside those involved. That Hermione and Ron knew… well, that was a given when it came to Harry Potter. Strangers would seek to take advantage of the situation, should they come to learn of it, Dumbledore had said.
"I can't talk about it," he said, and Rafael turned and nodded.
"Of course. But know that I am here, should you wish to discuss this further."
###
Harry was pacing when Draco emerged from his bedroom, and immediately, Draco could feel his nervous energy.
"What is it?" he said immediately.
Harry shook his head. "Nothing."
"Liar," Draco snorted. "What's wrong with you?"
"I talked to Hermione."
"And?"
"She thinks you put a spell on me."
Harry laughed. And when Draco didn't join in, Harry's expression changed to one of slow-seeping concern. He took a step back, eyes widening.
"You cast a spell on me?"
Draco shook his head. "I don't know. It's possible."
"Possible? What the hell, Draco? How is it possible?"
"It's called the After-Bite-"
"After-Bite Effect, yes, I know. And you gave it to me?"
"I don't know. Look, it's not even proven to be a true side effect of being bitten."
"But you've heard of it."
"Of course."
"What… what kinds of symptoms are we talking about?"
"It's individual. But in general? Attraction to the one who inflicted the bite. Loyalty. A desire to be near that person, always."
"Attraction."
Harry scoffed at the word.
"Besides, why do you think so many donors stay with us? It's not the most fulfilling life, being someone else's food source."
"So, you're saying that this… whatever it is… is a result of that little drink you had."
"That, in combination with the contract magic. It's a powerful binding force."
"So this is fake. Artificial. A product of someone else's design."
"I don't know."
"What would it take for you to be sure?"
Draco held out his hands. "It's not up to me to be sure." He looked at Harry. "Is it."
"So it's not real."
"What's not real?"
"Nevermind. It's not important."
"Harry… whatever you may be feeling, there's a possibility that it's because of the After-Bite Effect."
"What about you? What do you feel?" Harry practically spat out the words. "Unencumbered by human emotions or spells or other people's expectations?"
"You think it's easy to be me? To be this?"
Harry said nothing. And then, suddenly, like lightning, Draco realized something.
"Wait. Now I understand. All this time, I thought you were either scared of me, or not scared enough. Now I see. You're jealous."
"And you're crazy. What in Merlin's name could I possibly envy about you?"
"The whole of my existence, for starters. To you, I've escaped Hogwarts, but you're still tethered to this place like a pathetic mongrel, waiting for a command from your master."
"Shut up."
"You can be really stupid, you know that?"
Harry shoved him once, hard.
Grinning so suddenly that Draco almost missed Harry's expression going from fury to concern, Draco lunged for him, catching him around the waist and twisting so Harry's back was snug up against his chest. Draco needed to apply just a little bit of pressure to Harry's shoulder to inflict pain. He pressed his lips up close to Harry's earlobe and spoke in a harsh whisper.
"You envy me because you think I have control over my life, something you are so obviously lacking. But I don't. Do you know what rules me now? The sun and my hunger. And I can't control either of them."
The only warning that Draco received of Harry's intent to retaliate was the feeling of muscles tensing; then, Draco was suddenly off-balance and his feet were leaving the ground. Harry attacked him with a shout, dragging them both to the ground. They fought, but after a few moments, Draco managed to put both knees on Harry's arms and a hand around his throat, straddling him across the chest. Draco, however, suspected his upper hand had more to do with Harry's sudden disinterest in fighting than his preternatural edge.
For a few moments, there was only the sound of their harsh breathing. Harry's pulse stampeded against the palm of Draco's hand, his lungs heaved, and Draco could not look away from all the evidence of life that flowed through the body underneath him, and all the pain and confusion that came with it.
Finally, in a small voice, Harry said, "Did it hurt when you died?"
"What?"
"Did dying hurt?"
Draco blinked. He pushed away from Harry and sat up. Harry lay still, like he was trying to imagine not breathing and not moving ever again.
"Believe me, Harry. Living hurt a hell of a lot more."
###
Draco didn't say goodbye.
Harry stumbled to breakfast the next morning, hair askew, to find all the professors discussing Draco now that he and his vampires had left during the night. Harry mashed his potatoes with his fork, feeling morose and angry at himself for feeling morose. It wasn't as if he'd felt anything-anything real, anyway-and it wasn't as if he missed the company.
Still, he didn't even look up as the owls began delivering the morning post until he heard a familiar screech. He looked up to see Hedwig calling to him and a small envelope falling from her black talons.
Inside was a pink-and-grey speckled pebble that looked very much like the ones that lined the path that led to the fountain.
Harry, the accompanying note read.
If you ever feel so inclined.
Draco.
Part Two
Author: ZS
Rating: R, slash
Disclaimer: HP & its characters are not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Words: ~15,600
Summary: A follow-up to Obligations.
Notes: Special thanks to dacro and millefiori who inspired me to start writing this story; extra special thanks to luzmaria8, who inspired me to keep writing.
Harry woke up with a scream echoing in his ears. He sat up, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead. These days, it was difficult to distinguish between scar pain, and regular old headaches and nightmares.
It had been nearly a month since Dumbledore had brokered an alliance with Draco and his vampires using Harry as the bargaining chip. Since then, Harry had been able to think of little else.
He'd woken up on the soft patch of grass to see Draco preparing to leave, and too weak to do much about it. Remus had arrived moments later as dawn broke, relief plain on his face as he caught sight of Harry unscathed but for a clean, white bandage on his wrist.
The two puncture wounds had faded a few days later after Harry had been released from Hogwarts' infirmary. Being there had made Harry feel like a student all over again, but this time, it hadn't been because of simple Quidditch injuries or stomach flues. Madam Pomfrey had been disturbingly thorough in her examination to ensure Harry was unharmed. She'd made copious notes on his 'condition'. Harry had caught glimpses of strange terms like "the After-Bite Effect" followed by a question mark in his chart, but really, he'd felt fine--good, even--and thought nothing of it.
He didn't remember much about the bite itself; the memory of the pain had been overridden by the memory of the scent of night-blooming flowers enfolding him and Draco's deep grey eyes.
Feeling overheated and like his skin was too confining, Harry threw off his blankets and groaned. His voice echoed off the walls of his huge, private rooms. Living alone in a cavernous room was a distinct change from what he'd been used to. No snoring, shuffling or shifting roommates; just the crackle and snap of the low burning fireplace and his own loud breathing.
He missed being part of Hogwarts's school body. While he'd never liked to stand out in a crowd, he'd always enjoyed the busy transition time between classes and the crowded, raucous Great Hall. Now, even though he had permission to eat at the Head Table with the other professors, he always felt like an outsider; belonging neither there, nor at the House tables. Hermione and Ron used to seek him out to sit with him, finding him tucked away in the farthest corner of the kitchens. But they had started to find reasons to leave, and increasingly, Harry could not bring himself to ask them to stay.
They had their own lives, anyway. Dumbledore had taken on several able and willing wizards and witches to serve as assistants to some of the tenured professors so they would have more time to devote to the Order, and Hermione and Ron had been the first to volunteer. Hermione was teaching some of the basic coursework in Charms, and Ron was serving as Hooch's assistant. It had been months already, and still, Harry wasn't used to walking through the halls and seeing Hermione ushering bright-eyed first years into the Charms classroom and hearing choruses of elementary 'swish and flick!' through the doors. He wasn't used to looking out the windows of his quarters and seeing Ron fly by on a broom, corralling an overeager potential Chaser back to earth.
Even stranger was seeing Remus at Hogwarts again and not be taking Defense lessons from him; instead, Harry watched him disappear along with Dumbledore and other members of the Order to attend clandestine meetings behind closed doors.
It was bizarre not to be going to regular classes at all. In fact, right after Harry had officially finished his last year of schooling, he was segued immediately into private lessons at Hogwarts to prepare for the war. Harry did have other duties, however, but they were more informal. When he wasn't in lessons-which was most of the day, when his professors were busy with teaching and supervision-he had a slew of miscellaneous jobs. Harry suspected these tasks had been assigned to him to keep him out of trouble-cleaning the tools in the greenhouses, ordering stock for the Potions laboratories, and maintaining the spells on the Quidditch pitch which kept it free from weeds-but he didn't mind the excuse to be alone.
This was Harry's life: lessons, meals, and disrupted sleep, all on an endless repeat cycle.
***
Harry hurried: he was late for his Defense lessons with Professor Antonio Rafael Dominguez-Rafael, as he'd asked to be called. Harry had been skeptical about yet another Defense professor, but Rafael had been personally vetted by Dumbledore, who'd chosen him specifically for his expertise in Occlumency and Legilimency, and his ability to prove that he was precisely who he claimed to be without evil headwraps or the need to drink from a mysterious flask every hour on the hour.
Still, Harry had met with him with a knot of trepidation in his stomach. Rafael had a silky accent that had made the hair on Harry's neck prickle the first time he'd heard it. He seemed to favour wearing ties-that habit reminded Harry of Lockhart-and it seemed to Harry that he hadn't worn the same one twice since he'd started teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts to the rest of the Hogwarts' students, and privately to Harry, several months ago.
They'd started slowly, with Harry defending against direct, low-intensity attacks. Trust was important, Rafael had said. Harry had disagreed: wasn't it better to practice with someone he was already suspicious of?
The true test would come, Rafael had countered, when Harry was able to defend against someone he already innately trusted. And Harry, already wary from being betrayed too many times, couldn't find argument with that.
Seventh year had been emotionally devastating. Through several bold attacks that had crippled the Order of several of its most powerful members (they'd lost McGonagall and Moody in the same one-night assault), and more subtle sabotages that had turned entire communities of wizards against them, they had been left bereft of allies.
Harry hated the way even the adults had begun to stare at him with bare desperation.
Rafael, however, hadn't been party to any of this, and as a result, Harry felt surprisingly comfortable with him. It also meant that he was often surprised by Rafael's Legilimency attacks and spent much of their lessons on the floor.
"Legilimens!"
The force of Rafael's spell caused Harry to stumble backwards. His equilibrium faltered; the floor rushed up to meet him, but he didn't feel the impact for the overwhelming pain in his head.
He gasped.
The onslaught of Rafael's magic felt like needles penetrating his skin, targeting his soft inner forearms and the soles of his feet. He felt overwhelmed, too much pain and too little control. Rafael was inside his head, and Harry could feel him rifling through his mind like it was a cheap magazine.
Harry writhed and tried to focus his energy on forcing Rafael out. Rafael could see right through him; Harry was certain of this. He bet that if Snape could see him right now, he'd be appalled by his lack of focus and discipline and inability to concentrate-
When Harry surfaced from having his mind stripped clean, his throat was raw and his ears were ringing, like he'd been screaming
He pushed off his cloak, which had become too hot and too constricting. The feeling that he'd been suffocating wouldn't abate and he touched his neck just to be sure.
"Harry. Are you all right?"
Rafael clasped Harry's hand in his own and helped him sit up. Harry felt like a wrecking crew had gone into his head and demolished everything in sight. His sight lines were blurry, and Rafael's face distorted and expanded.
"Sitting," he said, pushing Rafael away when he tried to help Harry stand. "I think I'll stick with sitting for now. I'm not improving much, am I?"
"You've made significant progress since we first started working together. However… you seemed to have reached a plateau. Perhaps if you were to verbalize what you are feeling…"
"I suppose," Harry allowed, "it's just… different defending against your Legilimency."
"Can you elaborate?"
Harry took a deep breath. "Well, Professor Snape's Legilimency used to feel like a train derailing inside my head. It felt like he would be trying to get me to relive my most humiliating experiences; I guess he figured that would make me most debilitated. And with Voldemort… well, it was more of a possession, like you said. But… I don't think I can explain it," he said. The truth was that he didn't want to explain, didn't want to go into details. Professing ignorance was just simpler. "I suppose every Legilimens has a different style?"
"You are correct. Just as your style of Occlumency is unique to you."
Harry rubbed his forehead. He was starting to feel better, and smiled. "That's an insult, isn't it."
Rafael only laughed. "Up, boy. The night is young, and you still have much to learn."
***
Despite Harry's attempts to stay far away from the Hogwarts' student body, he had been coerced by Dumbledore into making at least a weekly appearance at the Head Table. Today, he was squeezed between Hermione and Professor Flitwick and they were discussing their upcoming lesson plans. Harry pushed his breakfast around his plate and felt strongly that he would prefer lying naked in a nest of hatching spider eggs to this.
"Good morning, students!"
Harry looked up. Dumbledore was at his lectern and waiting for the students' attention.
"Some time today, we will be welcoming guests to Hogwarts. Please note, however, that while you are welcome to acknowledge them if you see them in the halls, you must give them a wide berth while they are here. Also, the corridors leading up to and including the rooms in the south wing of the Dungeons are strictly off limits for the duration of their stay."
Dumbledore did not elaborate on these visitors or what their purpose was at the school. Still, whoever they were, Harry hoped they would take the pressure off the scrutiny he was feeling to be battle-ready at the drop of a hat; Rafael would often discuss his progress reports with Dumbledore, and lately, Harry had the feeling that Rafael was feeling less than happy with his development.
***
They arrived just after ten o'clock that evening.
Harry, on his way to his Charms lesson with Flitwick, had been distracted by the sounds of foreign voices echoing off the walls. He ran towards the front entrance, intending to hide behind one of the suit of arms that lined the front hall, but the sight that greeted him made him forget entirely about his plans.
Draco Malfoy.
Harry gaped. Aside from Draco, he recognized a few of the other vampires from his mission a month earlier, as well as a few blood donors who stayed near the rear of the group. All the vampires were obviously dressed to make an impression: pressed formal robes in lush fabrics and colors. They walked up to where Dumbledore was waiting, along with Remus and several other members of the Order that Harry recognized but didn't know.
"Hello, Headmaster," Draco said. "I apologize for our early arrival."
"Not at all. Come, I'll show you to your rooms. We'll begin tomorrow evening, if that is amenable?"
Harry startled as he realized that everyone was heading in his direction, and there wasn't even a remote chance that he would not be seen on the staircase. He backed up against the wall as Dumbledore passed by.
"Mr. Potter, you have lessons, do you not?"
Harry could only nod.
Dumbledore inclined his head solemnly and continued up the stairs. Draco, however, gestured for the rest of his group to follow, and hung back. Every one of them glanced at Harry as they passed, and Harry felt incredibly self-conscious.
"Harry," Draco said, with a hint of a smile.
"You have an entourage." Harry was certain he was gaping.
Malfoy smirked. "And it's bigger than yours."
"What's happening? What are you doing here?"
"Nobody's told you? You should ask," Draco said. He turned and left, the hem of his cloak brushing Harry's ankles.
Harry was curious and wanted to follow, but Flitwick would kill him if he was late for his Charms lesson. He'd have to figure it out later.
***
Flitwick kept him late, and it was nearly midnight by the time Harry left his Charms lesson. His mind was filled with new spells and new incantations as he walked down the quiet halls.
Flitwick had deflected any and all questions about Draco and covert meetings after dark, alternatively feigning hard-of-hearing and having a distracting spray of sparks fly out from his wand. Frustrated, Harry had made the decision to find out the only way that seemed to yield any results at Hogwarts: clandestine investigation.
His Marauder's Map was secured away in his footlocker and he unfolded it as he walked. He could see Draco's footsteps stationary, and sure enough, they were in the south wing of the Dungeons.
Harry knocked on the door before he could talk himself out of it, and the door swung open almost immediately.
"Hello?"
Harry recognized the man at the door as the person he'd watched be bitten at Draco's castle.
"Hi. Um. I'm looking for Draco Malfoy. He's not expecting me," Harry added quickly, unable to keep his eyes from drifting down towards the man's neck.
"I'll check with him."
The door closed in Harry's face and immediately, Harry had reservations. He hadn't heard from Draco at all since his mission; what exactly did he expect to accomplish here?
"Harry?"
Harry looked up again as the door opened.
"I'm Max. Draco has asked me to see you in."
Max swung the door wide open and Harry stepped through. He'd never been in this part of the castle before, and he guessed that it had been altered to suit Draco's needs. What had seemed like a small room from the outside opened up into a large sitting area complete with fireplace and living room suite.
"I know it's late," Harry said, taking a seat.
Max gave him a smile. "They're just waking up, actually; Draco will be out soon."
He vanished behind another door, leaving Harry alone.
The fire crackled and the wood popped, and Harry felt a chill against the back of his neck. Goosebumps prickled down his arms and back, and instinctively, he curled his fingers around his wand.
Something tickled his ear.
"Boo!"
With a shout, Harry was off the couch and aiming his wand at the gossamer sheen of a ghost. At first, Harry thought it was Peeves. But the laughter was different, higher-pitched and oh-so-familiar. When the ghost looked at him, still giggling, Harry was shocked to realize that he knew her.
"Parkinson?" he said, trying to figure out a way to stop gaping.
"Potter," she gasped, now clutching her sides. She was wearing her Slytherin uniform, which Harry found vaguely unsettling. A green ribbon was tied around her neck. "Your reaction was absolutely priceless."
"What are you doing here?"
"Other than scaring the pants off you?" she said.
Around the same time that Draco had gone missing last year, Pansy's body had turned up in a wooded area outside Hogsmeade. The details had been kept to a minimum, and it was only later that Harry began to think that it may have been for reasons other than to spare the dreams of small children.
"I was not scared," Harry protested lamely.
Pansy smirked. "I'm keeping you company until Draco gets his primped arse out here."
"Primped arse?"
At the sound of Draco's voice, Harry turned. Dressed in grey trousers and a dark outer robe, Draco walked over to them. He was carrying an armload of parchments and an ink-smudged quill, which he set on the table.
"You know it is," Pansy said.
"Go, Pansy," Draco said, and Pansy vanished with a final triumphant look in Harry's direction. "Hello, Harry. It's good to see you."
Harry could feel the warmth of Draco's smile through to his bones.
"Working late?" he said, nodding towards the parchments.
"Mm. I haven't slept much lately."
Draco waved his wand and a violet-trimmed tea set appeared. While Draco set about preparing his tea, Harry's mind began supplying Harry with images of just what might lie beyond the door to Draco's bedroom.
"Do you really sleep in a coffin?" Harry blurted out.
"Oh, honestly, Potter," Draco laughed. "Don't be daft. Coffins were traditionally used as safety devices only, actually, as vampires sleep rather soundly. However, I prefer a bed and a door with a lock on it."
"Mmhmm," Harry said distractedly, watching Draco put sugar in his tea. "Also. You're drinking tea. You can drink tea?"
"I can drink tea," Draco said, amused. "You can too, if you pause a moment from your gawking."
Harry blinked. "Err. Sorry. It's just. Yeah."
"I understand," Draco said, and Harry got the distinct feeling Draco was laughing at him from behind his teacup.
"What are you doing here?" Harry said, taking a moment to prepare his own cup of tea.
"You still haven't found out?"
"I've been in lessons all night, and Flitwick wasn't exactly offering answers."
"I really don't think I'm the one who should be telling you."
"Why not?"
"It's not my place."
"Since when has that stopped you before?"
Draco smiled. "Point taken. However, I think under these circumstances, it's best you don't hear it from a third party."
"Fine. So how long are you going to be at Hogwarts?"
"A few days only."
"Are you… going to be having some free time between your meetings?"
"Maybe." Draco looked him up and down. "What did you have in mind?"
"Nothing," Harry said quickly. "I just thought maybe…" He broke off when he noticed that Draco was looking distinctly uncomfortable. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Draco said. "You just thought what?" The façade didn't last long; he set down his cup heavily and touched his stomach, wincing.
"Draco?"
Harry's voice was echoed by Max, who had returned.
"I'm fine, Max."
"It isn't a good idea to put these things off; you remember what happened the first time you tried to deny it?"
"Please don't remind me."
Harry looked between the two of them. "What's going on?"
"I've been skipping meals," Draco said. "It's catching up to me."
"Caught up to you," Max amended.
"Um," Harry said. "I think it's time for me to go." He was nearly out the door before he heard Draco calling his name.
"Night after tomorrow?" Draco said. He already had his arm around Max's waist, and was drawing him closer.
"Okay," Harry said, and fled.
***
The next day, Harry spotted Remus as he walked down the corridor. Harry felt a glimmer of nostalgia; he remembered a time when he felt comfortable talking about his fears and nightmares with Remus. Since the deal with Draco, however, Harry suddenly found it easier to make up excuses why he didn't have time to talk. Still, Remus was sitting in on the meetings with Dumbledore and the others, and Harry forced his legs to carry him down the hall towards him and stand in front of the magically sealed doorway through which the meetings were taking place.
"Another meeting?" he inquired as causally as he could manage.
Remus had dark smudges under his eyes and his cheekbones were sallow. Harry hadn't kept track of the moon's phases and he wondered if the next full moon was close or if the weariness was due to stress.
"Another meeting," Remus said. Harry immediately got the sense that Remus was uncomfortable, which only fueled his desire to know what was going on.
"I saw Draco Malfoy and some other vampires arrive last night. What are they doing here? It has something to do with the contract, doesn’t it?"
Remus looked at the door that Harry was standing in front of. "You should really talk to-"
"Nobody will tell me anything. At least tell me why they're here. Is something happening? Has something happened?"
"Nothing's happened, Harry. They're just here to discuss some of the progress the Order has made regarding Voldemort's moves and plans. But it's more than that: it's Draco's first opportunity to prove that he's upholding his end of the deal."
"So what am I doing out here?"
Harry pushed on the doors to prove his point; the locking spells held.
"Dumbledore thought it best to keep you out of it. For now, of course."
"What are you talking about? I should be inside. I'm part of the deal, am I not?"
"Of course you are, Harry. You're the arrow."
Harry tilted his head, and for the first time, saw Remus in a strange new light.
"I don't believe this."
He whirled and stalked away, his footsteps loud on the stone floor. He heard Remus call after him, but he ignored him, ignored everything, including the bottom step of the staircase which he stumbled on, the puddle which he splashed through, and the tightness in his throat through which he could barely draw breath.
Rain drizzled, and Harry's glasses became spotted with water. He hurled himself up against the outside of Hagrid's hut which had been boarded up and empty since Hagrid had disappeared, and tried to catch his breath.
"Harry. Hey, Harry!"
Harry looked up to see Ron hovering on his broomstick at treetop height and then slowly descending. A gaggle of Slytherin students appeared behind him-Harry guessed they'd been working on their fine motor flying through the woods-and god. Harry did not want to talk to anyone right now, and he looked in vain for an escape route. Ron touched down and shoved up his goggles into his damp hair. A concerned look passed over his face. "You all right?"
"Fine, fine. Just out for a stroll."
"Yeah," Ron said, turning to smoothly deflect a Jumbo Spit Wad with the back of his wrist blocker. "Two points from Slytherin, Alberni," he said, and a brown-haired boy's smirk immediately turned into dismay. "And I'm making you personally responsible for making sure all the brooms are properly put back into the storage room. Off you go."
After making sure the students were moving at an acceptable pace, Ron turned back to Harry with a self-effacing grin. "After two months, they're still testing me. And it's not just the Slytherins. Two days ago, the Gryffindors tried to deflate my broom's Cushioning Charm before class. Can you believe that?"
Harry laughed, glad the shakiness he felt wasn't seeping into his voice. "It's never easy," he said.
Ron grinned and pushed a hand through his hair. "Now you tell me. Look, I have to make sure that Alberni's not trying to pass off his responsibilities onto some first year who happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. But we should get together for tea some time soon, mate; we live in the same place, and yet I feel like I never see you anymore."
"Yeah," Harry said. "Some time soon."
"Good. Tomorrow? I'll come find you."
With a wave, Ron trudged down the muddy path towards the castle. Harry made sure he was out of sight, took a deep breath, and slumped down onto the ground.
***
Another lesson; another splitting headache. Another bout of regaining his senses and finding himself sprawled inelegantly on the floor of the classroom.
While Snape had drilled Harry constantly, Raphael preferred stealth tactics. He would try to slip, unnoticed, into Harry's mind while Harry was distracted-either being talked to, or being the one talking.
When Harry would finally realize what was going on, it would be too late. Rafael would have already had time to rifle through Harry's thoughts and memories like an intruder checking drawers and closets for valuables, leaving everything else in his wake a mess, and leaving Harry with the vague sense of being violated.
"Tell me about this boy."
Harry pushed his hair out of his face and closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, he saw Rafael holding out a goblet of water.
"Thanks," Harry said, and took a long drink. "What boy?"
"The one in so many of your recent memories. He is blond, and quite…" Rafael made a motion with his fingers.
"Pointy?" Harry interpreted, at a bit of a loss.
Rafael laughed. "Yes. Pointy."
"He's… a friend."
"Ah. He features quite prominently in those memories you do not wish me to see."
Harry rubbed the back of his neck, trying to hide his rising blush. He was going to have to work harder to prevent his private life from becoming public.
"It's complicated."
Harry didn't want to talk about Draco. Everything he felt was too new and too confusing to be shared with anyone just yet, especially someone he didn't know well.
"He's here in the castle, is he not? I think, perhaps, I have seen him in the corridors." Rafael studied Harry briefly before smiling. "I do not wish to pry. I have found that sometimes the more vehemently one tries to keep something guarded, the more attention one draws to it."
"What does that mean, exactly?"
"You've told me about your experience being possessed by the Dark Lord. He seeks to find your weaknesses and exploit them. These are the memories I find behind the darkest doors, buried beneath the deepest shadows."
"So you're saying that I should show Voldemort exactly what my weaknesses are? How does that help me?"
"They would no longer be your weaknesses."
"Basically, you're telling me to deal with all my issues."
"What ammunition would the Dark Lord have if he was unable to manipulate your mind?"
Harry sighed. If it were only that easy.
***
After his lessons, Harry went to find Hermione. He wasn't eager to discuss Draco with anyone, really, but sometimes her analytical mind made it impossible to feel self-conscious while talking about such personal issues. He was counting on that tonight.
He pushed open the door of her shared office with Flitwick. Most often, she could be found here after hours working on the next day's lesson or discussing best practices with Flitwick.
"Hermione?"
The office was empty, but Harry recognized Hermione's desk right away. It was a cacophony of books and parchments. Right in front was an open textbook marked with the feathered portion of a well-used quill. Next to it was a book filled with her precise, neat handwriting.
The last sentence she'd written caught Harry's eye.
…effect's actual existence is still disputed by foremost vampire experts around the world…
Frowning, Harry moved closer and flipped the book so he could read its spine: Legacy of Blood. Then, he noticed the other books on her desk. Monsters With Our Faces. After Dark: A Compendium of Vampire Fact and Fiction. Volumes five through thirteen of Journals of a Vampire Hunter.
Harry picked up one of the books and flipped it over to the tab that Hermione had marked. "Chapter Twelve: The After-Bite Effect". There was that strange phrase again, the one he'd seen Madam Pomfrey write in his chart. Harry closed the book, feeling a cold weight settle into his stomach. As far as he knew, Hermione's class was studying color-changing charms.
Why would she be researching vampires?
Harry sighed. Why else would she be researching them? First Dumbledore and Remus, and now Hermione: they probably thought he was incapable of taking care of himself, that he needed protecting. Suddenly feeling sick, Harry stormed out.
***
Harry was on his way back to his room when he heard someone call his name. He looked up and saw Ron approaching, holding two brooms. Harry's stomach dropped. He'd forgotten all about meeting up with Ron, and he was not in the mood for putting on a happy face and pretending he was all right.
"Ron," he said, as Ron neared him. "I really don't think..."
"Shut up and listen," Ron said, and Harry's jaw snapped shut. "I'm only going to say this once. You know that if you ever need-"
"Yeah," Harry said. "I do."
They did not look at each other for a long moment.
"Okay," Harry said.
"Good." Ron sucked in a deep breath and let it out. He shoved a broom into Harry's hand. "Let's go."
While waiting for Ron to chase away some curfew-breaking students from the Quidditch Pitch, Harry realized that he was still holding one of Hermione's books. He leafed through several chapters, lingering just a bit on Chapter Twelve: The After-Bite Effect.
...phenomenon between a vampire and his or her donor which occurs at the onset of a bite...
Harry shook his head. He wasn't in the right mindset for research. When Ron waved him onto the Pitch, he was more than happy to leave the book and the earth behind. Harry hadn't been on a broom in weeks, and it took him a while to remember to relax and breathe. He watched Ron for a few moments, diving and slicing through the air with reckless disregard for his own safety. Harry flew a parallel pattern until he started to feel confident again, relearning the joyful abandon that came from giving himself over to the experience of the wind whipping his robes and the roar of his heart.
They flew until the light disappeared behind the horizon. And it was only when Harry pulled out of a twisting dive that stole his breath that he noticed that he and Ron were being watched.
Draco stood at the edge of the Quidditch pitch, face upturned.
Ron pulled up beside Harry, shoved up his goggles, and followed his sight lines.
"Um," he said vaguely. "I was about to call it a night; early class tomorrow. Alternatively, I was thinking about staying up and having a Butterbeer." He looked at Harry with raised eyebrows.
"You have an early class tomorrow," he said with a grateful smile.
"Are you sure?"
Harry looked back down at Draco, who had climbed the stairs to sit on one of the bleachers.
"I'm sure," he said.
Ron nodded at him and flew off towards the broom storage lockers. Harry angled his broom downwards and gently flew down to Malfoy's level.
"Hi," he said, pushing up his goggles. Malfoy was standing now, and giving him an appraising look.
"I didn't intend to run Weasley off."
"You didn't. He had to leave anyway." Harry swiped at the sweat on his forehead and said, "I need to shower and change. I'll see you on the Pitch in fifteen minutes?"
"I'll be there."
###
Draco watched Harry hurry back out onto the Pitch with damp hair and foggy glasses fifteen minutes later. It was starting to rain lightly, and the sky misted them both with fine droplets. As he fell into step beside Draco, Harry covered his head with his hood, obscuring most of his face from Draco's view.
"How was your meeting?" Harry said. Draco let him choose their direction, and they began walking down a path that was covered in pink-and-grey speckled pebbles. In the distance, he could hear the sound of running water.
"Tedious," Draco replied. "And your flight?"
"Painful," Harry laughed, rubbing his arms. "It's funny: I've lived at Hogwarts for the past year now, and I fly even less than I did when I was banned in fifth year." Harry's tone quickly sobered. "I keep coming back here," he said softly. "It's like that nightmare where they're chasing you, and no matter how fast you run, you know they're always just behind you."
"That's more of a nightmare cliché, Potter. Nobody actually has dreams like that. So Hogwarts isn't the haven it used to be."
Harry looked like he wanted to deny Draco's statement but he exhaled instead.
"Nothing's what it used to be. Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore… God. I want to look at Dumbledore and not feel so indebted to him. I want to look in the mirror and not feel… disgusted. I can't believe I just said that."
"Why? Because it's a lie?"
"It's actually completely true. And it's not something I should say. Sometimes I think I'll just leave here in the middle of the night. I'll go to Voldemort, and we'll have it out, and whatever happens will happen."
"Why don't you?"
"Because I'm not ready. Snape could bring me to my knees with a single spell and so can Rafael. Voldemort will wave his hand, and that'll be it. And then there will be nothing between him and what he wants. That stops me every time."
"Well, you-"
"Also, I don't want to die."
"Shall I not point out the obvious?"
"That everyone dies, eventually?"
Draco nodded.
"You won't die."
"Actually, that's untrue. Vampires age more slowly, but we still age. 'Eventually' is quite an apt term, considering. Besides, with the right implement, I could still be killed."
Something was on Harry's mind; Draco could tell by the weighty silence. Finally, Harry said, with just a touch of darkness, "I just realized how many dead people there are around me. You. Pansy."
"That's two, Potter. Two does not equal many."
Harry sighed softly. "Pansy's not the only ghost."
Draco wondered who he could have been thinking about; perhaps he was thinking about that convict that had been killed the same year his father had gone to Azkaban.
"Sometimes it's better to know for sure," Draco said without thinking. "My father…" And then he wished he hadn't said anything at all for the look that Harry got in his eyes.
"Don't you know where your father is?"
"You like doing the Order's dirty work, don't you."
"I don't… I didn't… what are you talking about?"
"That's what everyone is dying to ask me. Where's Lucius Malfoy?"
"So why don't you just tell them? What's it to you, anyway? He did this to you, and then he abandoned you."
"Is that what they're saying?" Draco snorted. "You have no idea what you're talking about."
"Then why don't you explain it to me?"
Draco had contacts with explicit instructions to search-albeit surreptitiously-for news of his father. Draco had always assumed he was still alive, more out of habit than having any real proof. He wasn't sure if it was out of blind optimism or the fact that his father had survived so much. He'd survived the first war, survived the Dark Lord's punishments, and Draco couldn't bring himself to even consider the alternative. He wasn't idealistic enough to believe that Harry would understand any of this, however. Instead, he decided to reveal as much truth as he felt both of them could handle.
"I haven't heard from my father in months. When I awoke from the change, I found myself in an unfamiliar room with locks on the doors. There were fresh bandages on my neck and stomach. A blood donor was there, and he had a letter from my father."
Draco waited while Harry mulled this over and for him to ask the inevitable question. He didn't have to wait long.
"What did the letter say?"
"That he had considered killing me because it would have been what I would have begged for, had he been there."
Draco got the sense that Harry didn't know what to say, so they walked in silence. The pebbles squelched underfoot, the underlying dirt muddy from the recent rains. The ground was littered with tree blossoms that hadn't managed to withstand the weather.
Finally, Harry said, "Is that true?"
Draco looked at him, but Harry was looking elsewhere. "Yes," he said, waiting for the admonishment that never came. He took a breath. "It was my second thought upon waking."
"And the first?"
"How hungry I was."
Harry pushed back his hood. He didn't say anything for a while and Draco suspected he was trying to figure out the best hex to use before running away and telling this all to Dumbledore. However, it was strange-and slightly terrifying-how easily the words were coming. The only other person he'd ever shared this with was Pansy.
"That's a natural reaction to the change, isn't it? One to three hours after waking is usually when the hunger starts."
"You've been reading up on vampires, I see."
"A bit. How much of what they say is true?"
"These are rather personal questions, don't you think?"
"Maybe."
Draco considered. "What do you want to know?"
"I don't know." Contrary to his words, however, Harry did seem to have something on his mind but appeared unwilling or unable to voice it. "Tell me... tell me what I could expect from you out on the battlefield."
"Well, we would be marginally effective against Dementors. Our good memories are muted; they aren't as easily taken. Our Patroni, therefore, are less reliable as a result. On the other hand, we're not as susceptible to Dementors as humans are. Our best asset is our impermeability to most threats that humans are vulnerable to. Contrary to popular belief, we do not burn at the drop of a hat. We don't require air to live; however, we may still breathe. We would be most effective for nocturnal attacks, as we are rather skilled at the art of the ambush."
Harry blinked at Draco. "You sound like you have that memorized."
"I do, actually." He laughed. "I was certain it would be a question that someone from the Order would ask me; I felt it best to be prepared."
"What else can you do now?"
Draco paused for a moment, letting his senses stretch out into their surroundings. "Well, I can tell you that someone is brewing Shrinking Potions in the dungeons. That the Giant Squid is awake. That you were in the presence of a woman who prefers spicy fragrances; I can smell her perfume. And that someone has been watching us since you joined me outside."
Harry spun around, but he saw nothing out of the ordinary.
"What? Who was it? Why didn't you say anything?"
"I didn't think it was anyone of consequence. Perhaps it was a student breaking curfew. Maybe it was just Pansy. We are at Hogwarts, you know."
Harry grumbled to himself, arms wrapped around his body. He rubbed at a sudden pinprick of pain in his neck. "A lot of terrible things happen at Hogwarts. You know that."
"I do. In any case, they've gone now. What else did you want to know?"
Harry took a deep breath to refocus. "All right. Hm. Can you fly?"
Draco snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. On the surface, being a vampire is just a change in physiology. My body merely requires different elements now to survive than it used to."
"Can you still eat regular food?"
"I can. In small quantities. Speaking of which… would you like a blood lolly?" Draco held out a dark red lollipop and Harry's eyes widened.
"Are you serious?"
"Absolutely," he said. When Harry gingerly accepted the candy, Draco pulled another from his pocket, tore the wrapper off and popped it into his mouth, using his tongue to shunt it to his cheek so he could talk. "Completely devoid of nutritional value," he said, smiling when Harry shrugged and followed suit. "Max was in Hogsmeade today; he picked up a few treats."
"He's really loyal to you," Harry said.
"Loyalty goes both ways."
They walked on, Draco obnoxiously slurping on his lollipop. Harry kept staring at him.
"What?" he said, only partly innocently.
"Nothing. It's just… this seems rather unlike you. Given your circumstances."
"Oh, Potter." He sucked hard on the candy before taking it out of his mouth so he could speak normally. "Being a vampire isn't all doom and gloom, you know. There are still some pleasures in life."
"Really. Like what?"
"Like sex."
Harry coughed and tried to cover it up. "What?"
"Sex. Vampires have a reputation for being amazing lovers for a reason."
"Oh yeah?" Harry said. "And what's that?" Now that he'd recovered from his initial shock, his statement was a challenge, a dare to see just how far Draco was willing to push this conversation. And Draco had never been one to back down from a challenge, especially one from Harry Potter.
He smiled slowly. "In part, because of our ability to sense changes in our partner's physiology. Fluctuations in heart rate, pupil size, skin reactivity, breath count. And in part, because of the watercolour effect. To us, everything is muted, including our ability to become aroused." Draco could feel the blush coming off Harry's body and he grinned. "So we need to take steps to ensure our partner's continued participation."
Now Harry stared at him, and Draco smirked back. The thrill of throwing Harry off-guard was still as satisfying as he remembered.
As soon as he recovered from his shock, Harry fumbled with his words, saying that he needed to get back inside the castle for some quickly fabricated and highly unlikely reason. Draco merely smiled at him and let him go.
***
Congratulating himself, Draco stretched out on the bench near the fountain. He wasn't alone for very long, however.
"You're going to scare him away," Pansy said, floating across the water in the fountain towards him.
Draco shook his head. "Hello? Have you never heard of privacy?"
"I've just been spying on the boys in the Prefect's bathroom; what do you think?" She drifted down next to him. "I heard you talking to Potter. Where did you get all that nonsense from?"
"It's all true."
"True for some vampires who've been around so long the machinery isn't working the way it used to back in the 1500's. Honestly. Why are you pushing him away? There aren't many who would choose to be with a vampire-don't give me that face, Draco Malfoy, you know I'm right-without the benefits that come from being a donor."
"It's all talk. Potter likes to push my buttons. He does not want to be with me. If it's not a result of the After-Bite Effect, it's because he's intrigued and needs a distraction from his own life. He isn't thinking clearly."
"He's obviously into you. Why not forget the reasons and give him what he wants?"
"He's unstable."
"Since when do you care?"
"Since he signed a contract that will help ensure that we're still around after the war ends. We need him."
"Which is precisely why you should feed on his pretty little neck. He gets what he wants, you get what you want, and everyone goes home happy."
"I do not want Potter's neck."
"Of course you don't. You want to sample Potter's other attributes. You can have him, Draco. Take him. Put him out of his misery. Give him what he wants and then send him off to kill the Dark Lord. There is nothing wrong with that. Or are you worried about that ridiculous After-Bite Effect nonsense?"
Draco sighed and closed his eyes.
"I didn't choose this."
"You still are who you are, Draco. Nothing's changed."
"Everything's changed."
"Nothing important."
Draco let out a slow breath and looked up at Pansy. Moonlight filtered through her translucent body.
"I miss you."
"You shouldn't."
"Why, because I shouldn't be subject to human emotions anymore?"
"Because no matter what happens, I'll always be right here."
***
Night had fallen, and Draco was beginning to feel the familiar pangs of hunger. He left Pansy to resume her spying and went in search of Max back in the castle.
He found Max reading in front of the fireplace in their common room, his feet propped up on pillows and a book in his lap. He looked up as Draco entered and used a bookmark to mark his place.
"I thought you'd be sleeping by now."
"I do know when you haven't eaten, you know."
As Draco sat on the coffee table, Max leaned forward, offering his neck. Draco tugged him forward even more, a hand at the back of his neck, and took a moment to savor the scent and feel of life so close at hand. He slid his lips across Max's throat, eyes closing at the feel of the plump vein quivering under his mouth.
And then, he couldn't help thinking of Harry coming out to meet him on the Pitch, his cheeks flushed from the heat of the showers and the exertion of flying. Harry hadn't thought twice about meeting him alone, outside, and under cover of darkness. They'd walked shoulder to shoulder, bumping into each other occasionally. Harry hadn't shown any signs of being afraid, even when Draco had pushed things a bit too far at the end.
Even though the hunger gnawed at him, Draco sat back. Max opened his eyes, puzzled, and his confusion augmented when Draco slid his hand down to Max's wrist and lifted it to his mouth.
***
Draco waited until Max had recovered enough to sit up before summoning a house elf to bring him a tray of food. Biscuits, too, Draco insisted, and he smiled smugly when the first item that Max chose off the tray was a chocolate chip cookie.
"Are you feeling all right?" Max said.
Draco looked up from the letter he had started to write. "Fine. Why do you ask?"
"I know that Harry's been attracting suspicion from his friends ever since we arrived by spending inordinate amounts of time with you. Did you ever consider that the Effect might be affecting you as well?"
Draco snorted. "Number one: it is not. Number two: it hasn't been proven to be real. And number three: it is not."
"So your attraction is real, then?" Max was teasing him. Draco narrowed his eyes. "And the fact that you chose my wrist once again…"
"I don't want to feed on him. Besides, those two things aren't related at all."
"Both acts are intimate," Max said. "Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference."
"Well, I can."
"The After-Bite Effect makes evolutionary sense, you know. On one hand, it makes the blood donors want to stay with their vampires. And on the other hand, it makes the vampires more likely to protect their donors. With biscuits." Max smiled and took another bite of his cookie. "Instead of… well. Going all the way."
"Is that how you think I feel about you?"
"It could explain why you didn't kill me the first time, when you couldn't ignore your hunger any longer."
"Funny," Draco said. "I'd always thought it was because I'm not a murderer."
"I didn't mean to imply you were." Max's hand wavered, the biscuit suddenly forgotten. Draco began picking up the staccato rhythm of Max's heartbeat and the fractional increase of white in his eyes.
"I realize that," he said. Max nodded, relieved, and resumed eating.
Draco, however, remained on edge. If he needed external mechanisms to talk him out of murder, was he nothing more than a monster with a muzzle?
###
"Hermione," Harry said, barging into her office and forgoing knocking entirely. His mind was still spinning from the conversation he'd had with Draco last night and he needed… he needed to know some things. "Can we talk?"
Open on her desks were the same books that had been there previously. She didn't even attempt to hide them.
"What's wrong?" she said, setting down her quill. Her fingers were stained red with ink.
"Obviously me," he said, gesturing, "according to your research."
"Harry," she said, frowning. "You probably can't see it yourself. But ever since you came back from Malfoy's, you've been different."
"Different, how?"
"You choose to spend time with him."
"Is that such a terrible thing? I mean, that's different from being under the influence of something. Am I acting dangerously? Do I seem out of control? Do you think he's put a spell on me?" He stared at Hermione when she didn't try to deny his accusations. "Are you serious?"
"Did you even read the book you took from my office?" she snapped, and Harry was so surprised by her reaction that he was rendered momentarily speechless. "Did you get to the part about the possibility of co-existing effects? That he might be as affected by you as you are by him?"
"What does that mean?"
"Interpretation is subjective," she said, her tone daring him to continue to push.
"Well, what's your interpretation? I… I really want to know," he added, at her skeptical look.
"Well… maybe as much as you're able to exert power over each other, you're also equally at each other's mercy."
"That sounds like the way it's always been."
"So maybe nothing's changed, and you have nothing to worry about."
"Oh, things have changed," Harry said. He looked at his shoes. "Lots of things."
Hermione tilted her head. "I've cross-referenced seven texts so far. Each of them says there's a distinct possibility that the feelings and thoughts you're experiencing which portray Malfoy in a favorable light are the direct result of being bitten by him."
"But the effect hasn't been proven beyond a reasonable doubt. And I'm sure there are an equal number of textbooks that say that the opposite is true."
"To whom are you trying to rationalize this, Harry?"
"You," Harry said. "Everyone. Everyone who keeps making plans about me without me."
"We're only trying to help."
"Stop helping," Harry said, more frustrated than ever, and stalked out.
***
"I need to know if I can trust him."
Harry couldn't believe he was sitting here on the classroom floor discussing Draco with Rafael, of all people, but he'd suddenly run out of confidants.
Rafael walked around him, the heels of his boots clicking on the floor. "Well, according to the contract, he is bound to offer assistance during combat."
"I'm not talking about combat. I'm talking about the in-between time when we're not fighting."
Harry felt a pang in his arm and rubbed if offhandedly. Rafael turned away. "Perhaps it is the nature of the contract itself which is impeding your ability to make sound decisions. What were the specifics of the contract?"
Harry paused. Dumbledore had expressly told him that the particulars of the contract were not to be discussed outside those involved. That Hermione and Ron knew… well, that was a given when it came to Harry Potter. Strangers would seek to take advantage of the situation, should they come to learn of it, Dumbledore had said.
"I can't talk about it," he said, and Rafael turned and nodded.
"Of course. But know that I am here, should you wish to discuss this further."
###
Harry was pacing when Draco emerged from his bedroom, and immediately, Draco could feel his nervous energy.
"What is it?" he said immediately.
Harry shook his head. "Nothing."
"Liar," Draco snorted. "What's wrong with you?"
"I talked to Hermione."
"And?"
"She thinks you put a spell on me."
Harry laughed. And when Draco didn't join in, Harry's expression changed to one of slow-seeping concern. He took a step back, eyes widening.
"You cast a spell on me?"
Draco shook his head. "I don't know. It's possible."
"Possible? What the hell, Draco? How is it possible?"
"It's called the After-Bite-"
"After-Bite Effect, yes, I know. And you gave it to me?"
"I don't know. Look, it's not even proven to be a true side effect of being bitten."
"But you've heard of it."
"Of course."
"What… what kinds of symptoms are we talking about?"
"It's individual. But in general? Attraction to the one who inflicted the bite. Loyalty. A desire to be near that person, always."
"Attraction."
Harry scoffed at the word.
"Besides, why do you think so many donors stay with us? It's not the most fulfilling life, being someone else's food source."
"So, you're saying that this… whatever it is… is a result of that little drink you had."
"That, in combination with the contract magic. It's a powerful binding force."
"So this is fake. Artificial. A product of someone else's design."
"I don't know."
"What would it take for you to be sure?"
Draco held out his hands. "It's not up to me to be sure." He looked at Harry. "Is it."
"So it's not real."
"What's not real?"
"Nevermind. It's not important."
"Harry… whatever you may be feeling, there's a possibility that it's because of the After-Bite Effect."
"What about you? What do you feel?" Harry practically spat out the words. "Unencumbered by human emotions or spells or other people's expectations?"
"You think it's easy to be me? To be this?"
Harry said nothing. And then, suddenly, like lightning, Draco realized something.
"Wait. Now I understand. All this time, I thought you were either scared of me, or not scared enough. Now I see. You're jealous."
"And you're crazy. What in Merlin's name could I possibly envy about you?"
"The whole of my existence, for starters. To you, I've escaped Hogwarts, but you're still tethered to this place like a pathetic mongrel, waiting for a command from your master."
"Shut up."
"You can be really stupid, you know that?"
Harry shoved him once, hard.
Grinning so suddenly that Draco almost missed Harry's expression going from fury to concern, Draco lunged for him, catching him around the waist and twisting so Harry's back was snug up against his chest. Draco needed to apply just a little bit of pressure to Harry's shoulder to inflict pain. He pressed his lips up close to Harry's earlobe and spoke in a harsh whisper.
"You envy me because you think I have control over my life, something you are so obviously lacking. But I don't. Do you know what rules me now? The sun and my hunger. And I can't control either of them."
The only warning that Draco received of Harry's intent to retaliate was the feeling of muscles tensing; then, Draco was suddenly off-balance and his feet were leaving the ground. Harry attacked him with a shout, dragging them both to the ground. They fought, but after a few moments, Draco managed to put both knees on Harry's arms and a hand around his throat, straddling him across the chest. Draco, however, suspected his upper hand had more to do with Harry's sudden disinterest in fighting than his preternatural edge.
For a few moments, there was only the sound of their harsh breathing. Harry's pulse stampeded against the palm of Draco's hand, his lungs heaved, and Draco could not look away from all the evidence of life that flowed through the body underneath him, and all the pain and confusion that came with it.
Finally, in a small voice, Harry said, "Did it hurt when you died?"
"What?"
"Did dying hurt?"
Draco blinked. He pushed away from Harry and sat up. Harry lay still, like he was trying to imagine not breathing and not moving ever again.
"Believe me, Harry. Living hurt a hell of a lot more."
###
Draco didn't say goodbye.
Harry stumbled to breakfast the next morning, hair askew, to find all the professors discussing Draco now that he and his vampires had left during the night. Harry mashed his potatoes with his fork, feeling morose and angry at himself for feeling morose. It wasn't as if he'd felt anything-anything real, anyway-and it wasn't as if he missed the company.
Still, he didn't even look up as the owls began delivering the morning post until he heard a familiar screech. He looked up to see Hedwig calling to him and a small envelope falling from her black talons.
Inside was a pink-and-grey speckled pebble that looked very much like the ones that lined the path that led to the fountain.
Harry, the accompanying note read.
If you ever feel so inclined.
Draco.
Part Two