A Different Kind of Pureblood - Chapter One

Harry was still frozen, his heart thudding in his chest. Oh, a cheering charm, is it? Draco was crying? Harry didn’t recall hearing Ron or Hermione say anything damaging enough to make Draco cry, but he hadn’t been able to hear much over the noise of the neighboring doors. “Hello there, friends! Chip chip, and tally ho! Splendid day for a game of tug-o-war!” Draco laughed down the hallway. He could hear Charlie barking orders at Ron, and apparently they were trying to tie him down, because Draco yelled, “The ropes! Dear gods, the ropes! They burn like scones in hell!”

I hope that charm wears off soon, Harry thought dismally. Draco’s scary when he’s this happy. Still, he found himself smiling and chuckling slightly. After all, Harry had just been glomped and kissed in the bathtub, by a blond pleading to be loved. Whether straight or gay, that was funny. Given a few more seconds to get his heart rate back to normal, it might have even been enjoyable. Harry amused himself by watching a single drop of blood cascade down his wet arm. The red liquid slid through the droplets of water and painted it like teardrops on a tissue, forming shapes like the Nile river. This, of course, was a reminder to drink another sip of Blood Replenishing potion.

Harry heard another door slamming- the door to room 4. Charlie’s voice rang out angrily from the other side. “And don’t come out until you’ve calmed down!” Harry groaned as he realized Draco had been locked in there. At least he was tied up or restrained. Whatever Charlie had used to hold him back was obviously effective. Harry couldn’t hear a sound from the other room. The rest of Harry’s bath went by peacefully. Harry could only be cleaner if he ceased to exist. He gave a languid stretch before climbing out of the pleasant heat and drying off.

He combed the tangles from his hair, noticing with a pleased smile that his hair was lying a little bit flatter on his head, not sticking up like a cartoon character being electrocuted. Now it just looked wild, perhaps even blacker than before. This made his skin look slightly pale… No, who was he kidding? He was definitely paler. He shook his head as he put on his glasses, still lacking lenses. There could be no more denying it. All those bites, and the addition of Draco’s blood, had definitely changed him. Harry hoped it was only his appearance and vision that had changed.

Dressing wasn’t much of an issue, now that the Gryffindor had clothes to change into. Dudley’s hand-me-downs weren’t fashionable in any way. He ended up wearing a pair of blue jeans that almost passed as fashionable since he had shrunk the waist without tampering with the rest. He had skipped over a robe entirely, favoring a black t-shirt with a silver dragon patch that had been enchanted to move. For a moment, Harry thought of the white dragon-vampire tied up in the room next to him, and Harry couldn’t help it but smile. He might have an interesting reaction that shirt.

Harry ran a comb through his hair, brushed his teeth, and realized dismally that he was out of ways to primp. He had to leave the shelter of the bathroom and face the insanity of the world. That didn’t really appeal to him, but a glance at his repaired watch told him he’d been in here for nearly four hours. It was with a sigh that Harry Potter walked out of his sanctuary.

Draco was singing softly to himself. Red ropes, clearly made from some sturdy magical substance, looped around his body, binding his arms behind him and his legs together. His shirt was nowhere to be seen, his ribs exposed for all to see, and his whole body was shining with bloody sweat. Harry paused at the end of the room, staring at the frail creature before him, who was looking far weaker than ever before. “By Circe, but you’re a strange sight to behold, Draco,” Harry eventually muttered.

Draco snapped his head up, then frantically dried off the crimson tears that had been painting his cheeks. “Sorry about earlier,” he choked out. “Granger put me on a cheering charm after I… and… I was too cheerful to be concerned with your privacy.”

“It’s okay,” Harry chuckled half-heartedly. “It was actually kind of funny.” The vampire nodded, keeping his eyes averted and his face in the shadows. Seeing no more need for ropes, Harry knelt beside Draco and began to untie him. The ropes vanished the instant they were untied, which was a small bit of a shame, because they felt rather nice under Harry’s fingers. “So, what did Hermione and Ron say that riled you up so much?” Harry asked conversationally.

Big mistake. A small choking noise left Draco’s mouth, and the blond sank down to the floor, shaking with contained sobs. “Never mind,” Harry said quickly, pulling him upright and removing the rope that bound his hands. “Never mind, I’m sorry. We can talk about Quidditch instead…”

“It’s not so much what they said as what they did,” Draco whispered. “I thought I was good at Occlumency, but Granger, she… Legilimency.” Harry felt his heart sinking, and a wave of unsuppressed nausea. “She pulled up all sorts of things that I hadn’t told her, like when I told you that we needed to fake a relationship, and she saw it when I attacked you in the alley, and- and- Merlin, she knows, Harry. She says she’s going to tell Ministry officials the truth, and she says she’ll make sure you’re never exposed to me again.”

Harry felt as if he’d just been hurled naked into a tub of ice water. Draco was shaking like a leaf, and Harry couldn’t stop himself- he put an arm around Draco’s shoulder and pulled him close, letting the frail Slytherin lean against him. “They’re going to kill me,” Draco gasped, burying his face in Harry’s chest. The white dragon patch made room for Draco. “Merlin, they’re going to kill me. I attacked Harry Potter. I manipulated Harry Potter. I used and molested Harry Potter. You’re still bleeding because of me. They’re going to kill me.”

“Umm, no,” was all Harry could say. The vampire bit back a sob. “I’ll lie for you. I’ll stick to the story.”

Before Draco could answer, the door to Room 4 jolted open. Ron, Hermione, and Charlie all stood there, wearing shoes, carrying bags, clearly about to leave. They all wore matching frowns. “Harry, mate,” Ron said quickly. “You can stop pretending now. He’s not going to hurt you anymore. Come with us to the Ministry.” Harry didn’t move. Neither did Draco, who could have been made out of disenchanted stone for all movement purposes. “Come on, Harry.”

Hermione briskly walked in, setting Harry’s shoes right next to his feet. “I know what he did, Harry. Don’t let him trick you any more.” Her brown eyes glazed with contempt as she looked over to Draco. His face was hidden entirely in Harry’s shadow.

“Harry?” Charlie asked from the doorway.

The Gryffindor would have responded, but he was too busy thinking. This was bad, this was bad on so many levels. Draco had certainly done an awful lot of horrible things to Harry, but he’d given his reasons and sort of apologized. Harry didn’t really mind being bitten by Draco. Though the blonde’s blatant flirtation had definitely been annoying, it wasn’t worth getting him in trouble. And Harry knew one thing above the others; he’d rather Draco not go back to Azkaban or be executed.

“No.”

“What?” Hermione asked, confusion written in her eyes.

“Don’t turn Draco in, Hermione. He hasn’t really done anything wrong.” The blond gasped softly, and Harry tightened his grip around Draco’s slender shoulders. Hermione drew back as if she’d been slapped.

“Why are you defending him? He hurt you! He’s been lying to us!”

“He had to do it!” Harry snapped. “Fine, tell the Ministry what happened! Tell them that Draco turned to me for help, and I gave it to him. Tell that that, both times he bit me, I had offered it to him. Tell them that this summer has been hell for him, and I regret not doing more to help him.” Harry bit his lips, realizing how stupid that sounded.

“You’re crazy, mate,” Ron said loudly. “He’s just been trying to eat you alive and get into your pants ever since he laid eyes on you. You should have told us the truth!”

“I was protecting him,” Harry answered. “For the longest time, I didn’t even know the truth, so I stuck by his story. It’s not too big of a lie, you know. He did save me from the Dursleys. He got me away. He was in the area because he wanted to see me and ask for my help. And what do you know… I gave it to him!” Draco’s long white fingers tightened around the collar of Harry’s black T-shirt, and he shifted slightly, burying his face deep into the folds of Harry’s shirt. His breath was cold; Harry could feel it right through his shirt.

Ron and Hermione looked frazzled. But in the distant doorway, Charlie’s frown became a smile.

“See, guys? I told you. Harry really does love Draco.”

Harry’s jaw dropped, and a small noise of protest caught in his mouth.

“I d-d-do not,” Harry muttered. “I just don’t want him to suffer any more.” Ron was staring at Harry with a slack jaw and twisted eyebrows, completely shocked. Hermione seemed mortified. Charlie’s grin just broadened.

“Sure you don’t, Harry. Sure you don’t,” Charlie said sarcastically. “Come on, Hermione, Ron. Let’s leave them alone for a while. I think they’ve got a lot to discuss.” He didn’t give them any other options. Since Ron and Hermione didn’t budge an inch, the cool Weasley took out his fang earring and threatened to pop holes in them if they didn’t leave. He was the last one out, and he gave Harry a wink as he shut the door of Room 4.

Left alone with Draco, Harry had no clue what to say or do. The blond still clung to Harry’s chest for dear life, and that wasn’t an exaggeration. The Gryffindor felt far too awkward, knelt beside Draco. Minutes passed in silence. Eventually, Harry’s left foot began to go numb, and he shifted slightly, to lean against the wall. Draco moved with him, refusing to let go. At least one good thing had happened… Draco was no longer shaking. With a sigh, Harry curled an arm around the skinny Slytherin, draping it over his back.

“Harry,” Draco eventually whispered. Harry barely hear it.

“Mm?”

“Thank you.”

ONE MORE CHAPTER TODAY!!! YAY!

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Fluff and Stuff

Harry felt far too awkward to pursue conversation with Draco. Once or twice, he opened his mouth and changed his mind. Every time he felt the desire to move, Draco’s fingers would clutch him a little tighter, and he would stay. Time wore on. Despite the many thoughts racing through Harry’s head, he was getting bored just sitting there. Deciding it was safe to do so, Harry began to draw shapes on Draco’s back with his fingers. The blond didn’t react, a fact Harry was most thankful for. Harry continued to draw little circles, then little squares, then little stick figures.

A small stick figure of James Potter stood invisible on Draco’s shoulder. Moving up to the blonde’s neck, Lily waved her wand at something. Sirius and Remus, as a dog and a werewolf, romped on the vampire’s shoulder blades. Almost on Draco’s side, Hermione and Ron held each other’s hands, with all the other Weasleys standing behind them. A tiny Voldemort lay in five pieces, rather low on Draco’s back, with great big X’s for eyes. At the very center of his back, Harry’s fingers drew a small Draco. Then Harry hesitated. He should put himself on this invisible masterpiece as well. But where? Near Hermione and the Weasleys?

Harry shook his head, deciding that the best spot for him was right next to Draco. It was only after he’d drawn his own invisible stick figure that he realized how close they were; Harry could see the tiny lines where his nails had scratched in Draco’s figure, and he saw that his stick figure’s hand was touching Draco’s.

“That’s beautiful,” Draco mumbled. Harry’s hand whipped away. Did Draco know what was drawn on his back? No, he was asleep. Dull gray light crept in through the gap between the curtains, and Harry vaguely realized it was a couple hours into the morning. “Should do that for real some day.” Draco’s voice trailed away to nothing, and his face slid downwards a few inches, coming to rest on Harry’s chest. His arm was slung over Harry’s waist languidly, and it was quite clear that Draco was comfortably situated for a long snooze. Harry took a deep breath. Great, now I’m stuck.

Still, it’s not that bad, Harry reasoned with himself. Careful not to tip himself over, he reached out and barely managed to catch hold of a pillow off the bottom bunk. If he was stuck being Draco’s mattress, he might was well get some shut-eye too. Harry cautiously leaned forward, put the pillow behind his back, and allowed himself to sink lower to the floor, getting a bit more comfortable. Draco sank down with him, mumbling something under his breath about sushi as he gently squished Harry and then let go. Harry couldn’t help it but smile to himself. Draco was acting cuddly in his sleep.

It wasn’t long before Harry’s eyelids drooped and fell shut, the world becoming a cozy black blur to him as he entered the realm of dreams.

Harry awoke to the sensation of somebody poking him in the side. “Shtobbit,” he grumbled tiredly, not wanting to open his eyes, which he could tell were crusted over with sleep. “Goway.”

“Lunch,” Charlie’s voice chuckled from the darkness. Harry blearily opened his eyes.

“Ouch! Shut the curtains!”

“But they are shut…” Harry groaned and opened his eyes again, flinching at the light but getting used to it. Charlie was knelt in front of him, holding out a tray of sandwiches, which smelled heavily of roast beef and garlic mustard. “Careful, don’t jostle Draco, he won’t thank you for it.” Harry woke up a bit more as he realized that Draco was still using him as a pillow. His pale blond hair was a terrible mess, but he looked as happy as a kitten sleeping in the sun after consuming a bowl of warm milk.

“Thanks, Charlie,” Harry mumbled, wiping his eyes and blinking against the light as he reached out to take a sandwich half. “How are Ron and Hermione?”

“Absolutely livid,” the eldest remaining Weasley chuckled as he shook his head, red hair swaying. “They just don’t seem to appreciate the genius of it. Draco pulled off an excellent trick there. It kept him out of Azkaban, it kept your friends from killing him- and, hey, it even kept you from killing him!” Harry nodded slowly. “I’m surprised you went along with it. I mean, your worst enemy just walks up, attacks you, and then asks you to risk everything pretending to be his gay lover!” Charlie actually laughed at that, and Harry grinned.

“I didn’t have too much of a choice in the matter. He had everybody convinced long before I knew what was going on, and I wasn’t going to risk blowing his plans to hell before I even knew why he needed to lie.” Careful not to shake Draco, Harry took a bite of his roast beef sandwich. He chewed it slowly. What was that weird bitter taste? “What’s on this sandwich?”

“Just mayonnaise, mustard, and roast beef.” Charlie shrugged. He sat on the floor before Harry, his slightly tight-looking jeans creasing in odd places. With a sigh, Harry took another bite, near the center of the sandwich. The bitter flavor was stronger. So strong, in fact, that Harry gagged. “Harry?” Charlie asked uncertainly.

Harry clapped a hand around his throat. His whole mouth and throat had suddenly gone completely numb, that horrible bitterness overcoming all of his senses. It was with a sense of dawning horror that Harry realized he couldn’t swallow… and nor could he breathe. That numbness was spreading. Harry frantically clapped his hand over his throat, trying to communicate to Charlie that he was choking. He elbowed Draco in the head at some point, but he had bigger problems.

Charlie’s face twisted sharply as he fumbled for his wand, looking almost as scared as Harry felt. The lack of oxygen was starting to get to Harry’s head, and his view of Room 4 began to swim before him. Charlie was fidgeting, talking to himself in a high, panicked voice, trying to figure out what spell to do. Harry tried to cough, speak, breathe, do anything at all, but he found he could do none of these things. He began to crumble into the floor, his whole body starting to go numb from lack of air.

A white blur shot up from next to Harry, grabbing the wand away from Charlie. Through the haze of his senses, Harry head Draco’s voice hiss, “Accio Sandwich!”

The bite Harry had been chewing sailed out of his mouth, landing an inch away from Draco’s foot. Harry took a shuddering breath, making his head stop spinning. “Are you alright?” Coughing, Harry turned his green eyes upward and looked into Draco’s silver ones, which were creased with fear.

“I’ll be fine,” Harry croaked. Taking his wand back, Charlie conjured up a cup, cast Aguamenti, and handed Harry a glass of fresh water. His hands were pale and trembling. Harry gratefully took the water and chugged it, feeling the numbness begin to vanish, the bitter taste washing out of his mouth. Draco was gently rubbing his back. “That was scary.”

“No kidding,” Draco said grimly. “It’s not how I wanted to wake up. You need to eat slower.”

“I wasn’t eating fast at all!” Harry protested, happy that his breathing had returned to normal. “In fact, I wasn’t even done chewing it before I choked. That sandwich was horribly bitter. It tasted like poison!” The word had barely left his mouth before both Charlie and Draco snatched up sandwich halves, peeling the bread apart and inspecting the individual ingredients with suspicion. Harry leaned back and closed his eyes, trying not to worry. Now that he thought about it, the way he’d choked was very strange. The sandwich hadn’t even been lodged in his throat. It was like that bitterness had magically made it impossible for him to breathe.

“But they seemed okay when I made them,” Charlie sighed, perplexed. “I had one downstairs. They haven’t been out of my sight and I used the same ingredients for all of them…” Giving the sandwich in his hand a benevolent glare, he took a bite.

“Don’t-!” both Harry and Draco protested. Chewing thoughtfully, Charlie made a great spectacle out of taking second and third bites, looking more and more confused as he swallowed them.

“I don’t taste anything bitter,” the Weasley stated, shaking his head. His fang earring swayed several inches before his shoulder-length red hair. “All I taste is wheat bread, mayonnaise, roast beef, and… garlic mustard.” Draco’s breath hitched. Charlie seemed to have caught the same thing.

“What?” Harry asked wildly.

“How many times has Draco bitten you?” Charlie asked sharply.

“I dunno,” Harry answered slowly. “Twice on the neck, twice on the lips, I think.” The vampire and wizard exchanged dark looks.

“And you had my fangs lodged in your neck for a while…”

“And it’s still bleeding,” Charlie muttered. “And he had a few gulps of your blood when you tried to stop the bleeding-”

“And we tried to get my blood directly into his veins by sticking a bloody washcloth to his throat,” Draco concluded with a groan. He sank down to the floor, looking like hell, his face drawn with stress. “Your vision’s improved so much that you don’t need glasses. You’re paler. You’re hair’s changed.” Harry didn’t say anything. He knew where this was going. Draco refused to look up at him. “I think you’re beginning to change, little by little. It would explain a lot.”

“It would certainly explain why a little bit of garlic mustard nearly finished you off,” Charlie added. Harry still didn’t speak, looking down at his pale hands. They were trembling slightly and quite sweaty. Draco, noticing, set his own cold hands on Harry’s and held them still.

Yesterday, Harry would have pulled his hands away and yelled at the blond. Now Harry just let himself be touched. It was comforting. Draco knew a lot more about vampires than Harry did; he would conquer this. “Are you okay?” Draco asked softly.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Harry replied. “I don’t think I need to worry until I get funny urges to neck anybody that gets near me. I’ll just have to cut garlic from my diet. It’s not much of a loss.” Draco smiled softly. A few moments passed in silence, Charlie fidgeting nervously. Harry could tell he felt guilty for giving Harry something that was poisonous to him, though he wasn’t aware of it at the time.

“Are you still hungry?” Charlie asked abruptly. Draco snorted, but Harry grinned and nodded. “This time, it’ll be a tuna sandwich, without any mustard.” He stood and marched out the door, looking determined to do something right. Harry was left alone with Draco, in the room that seemed too bright even with the curtains shut.

“So,” Harry said uneasily, looking down at their hands, still clasped together. “You saved me.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Draco whispered. “I’ll only have to do it two or three more times for us to be even.” Harry managed to laugh at that, but Draco was quite serious. “You really gave me a scare.”

“I really gave me a scare,” Harry said quietly. “For a second there, I thought I was going to die.”

“And you might have, if I hadn’t woken up…” Draco’s pale fingers tightened around Harry’s for a moment, and Harry had to push some rather dark thoughts out of his head.

“How am I supposed to repay you?”

“Excuse me? I’m still indebted to you,” Draco reminded him, but Harry wouldn’t hear of it.

“Just name one thing,” Harry demanded. “Er, something that I can actually do.” He looked up and stared into the vampire’s gray eyes, watching the thoughts race through them. Draco seemed to get more and more nervous as he thought. Draco eventually looked away, bit his lip, and looked back up at Harry. His eyes clearly stated that he was preparing for nothing short of a punch to the face.

“Would you give me a chance?”

All the muscles in Harry’s throat tensed up at once. Harry had no idea what he was supposed to say or do. Certainly, he was capable of… giving Draco a chance. But he really didn’t want to. He truly hated the idea of being gay, and the fact that it was Draco ****ing Malfoy still blocked all Harry’s images of a good relationship.

“I’m not a Malfoy anymore,” Draco whispered, lowering his eyes. “I’m just me now, I’m just Draco. I’ll do anything. Just give me a chance.” He was holding as still as stone. Harry tired to get rid of the lump in his throat, but that just wasn’t happening. “I’m not asking you to rip off your clothes and jump in bed with me, just stop shoving me away and yelling whenever I want to be near you.”

“I…” Harry squeaked.

“I’ll help you defeat Voldemort!” Draco hissed, as he stood up and began to pace. “We could even kill him together, I hold him, and you punch! I’ll get Snape to be nicer to you! I’ll… I’ll learn how to cook and clean, and I’ll dress up like a house-elf and tend to your every whim!” He was definitely ranting.

“That’s not necessary…”

“What do I have to do, Harry?” the vampire demanded, whirling to face him, eyes flashing red. He wasn‘t angry, just desperate. “Would you like me if I took a potion and turned myself into a girl? I can do that, if it’s just the gay issue.”

“Don’t do that!” Harry gasped, standing. He realized, as soon as the last syllable fled his lips, that he’d announced plain and clear that he didn’t desire a female. Great, so I’m officially gay, Harry thought dully. But this is still Draco Malfoy!

The blond turned away, running a pale hand through his silky hair. His hands were trembling. He seemed absolutely terrified, now that Harry was watching him. Was he that scared of being rejected? When Draco turned back to Harry, his expression was pleading.

“I promise,” Draco whispered, “that I’ll do everything I can to make you happy. Even if you turn me down.” That broke down Harry’s last wall. This wasn’t a Malfoy in front of him. This was just Draco. Harry’s breath hitched as he slowly reached out, taking the pale Slytherin’s clammy hands in his own warm ones. “Harry?” Draco’s voice wavered.

“You’d better keep that promise,” Harry said firmly. “But if I ever catch you dressed up as a house-elf or trying on bras, I’ll dump you like-” He was silenced by a great shriek of delight. Draco’s lips instantly set about the task of smothering the Gryffindor, who laughed and tried in vain to peel himself away from the vampire’s crushing embrace. Harry opened his mouth to tell Draco not to move too fast, but his lips were seized by Draco’s fangs. A familiar feeling of euphoria swept over Harry, who found himself leaning into Draco’s chest.

Just as Harry began to melt into that sensation, the door opened with a dramatic clatter. He gasped as Draco pulled away, turning to the door. As his head cleared, he focused on the doorway, feeling a brief stab of embarrassment, having been caught in such an act. But it was just Charlie, bearing a plate of tuna sandwiches and a look of shock.

He looked back and forth between the two, who seemed frozen with their arms around each other. A smile slowly replaced his surprised expression.

“This definitely calls for Butterbeer.”

*~*This is the last chapter for today. To make up for when I was away. Hope you enjoy. And there is also a sequel for when it's finished*~*

Here's the full reason why I was offline for so long!

I moved from sydney to a farm. Boring. Now, I live with horses. 🙂 Anyway, My internet was off and my step-mum wouldn't connect it. I tried to get on this at skool but couldnt and now i can. Im so sorry to every1

DG

post more soon!!!

I'll post the next two chapters tonight.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Poor Little Draco

Several Butterbeers later…

Charlie lay on his stomach, sipping idly at his second Butterbeer as he flipped through the pages of a Muggle phonebook. He was propped up on the top bunk of the bed, sheets wrapped around his jean-clad legs in an impressive knot. One hand idly flipped pages while the other played with his elongated fang earring. He was talking softly, mostly to himself, but partially to the two wizards on the bunk below.

“Shamrock Hotel… Bedraggled Beds? No, better look at the places labeled ‘Inn’. The Red Pillow Inn… The Dusty Mattress Inn? Ah, I know! Let’s stay at the White Ferret Inn!”

“Har har,” Draco muttered, casting a mutinous look at the top bunk as he finished off the last of his Butterbeer. He was laying with his head rested on Harry’s stomach. He seemed rather smug about being in this position, especially seeing as Harry came nowhere close to allowing him the use of his belly as a pillow. “Maybe you wouldn’t find it so damn funny if I turned you into a ferret and bounced you off the walls.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Charlie began, slightly surprised by Draco’s offense. He had clearly felt Draco‘s glare pierce him through the mattress and support of the top bunk, though Draco wasn‘t within his sight. “It’s a real inn. It looks better than the others…”

“I’m not staying in any place with ferrets in the name, Weasley.”

“We could always sleep under an overpass,” Harry chuckled. Draco smiled and closed his eyes, enjoying the way Harry’s chest rumbled slightly as he spoke. “Do you like that idea?”

“What?” Draco murmured.

“Care to sleep under an overpass?” Harry smirked, knowing that the blond hadn’t heard a word he said.

“Mm, that depends who I get to share my newspaper blanket with…” He drew a circle on Harry’s side with his finger, eliciting a squeak from the Gryffindor. “I’m joking. I’ll go anywhere but the gutter or the White Ferret Inn. I’m just not in any position to complain.”

“Damn right, you aren’t,” Charlie assured him from above. “Some folk might kill to cuddle the famous Harry Potter.” Draco gave a cough that sounded suspiciously like ‘Dobby’. Harry snorted with amusement and took another swig of Butterbeer. “Exactly.”

Harry yawned and stretched slightly, careful not to knock Draco off his fleshy pillow. Sure, he may be Draco’s new boyfriend, but he still didn’t feel completely comfortable with the vampire’s head so close to his crotch. Harry felt the creeping suspicion that Draco had slowly moved quite a few inches South along the Gryffindor’s body while they had been talking. How the conversation had come to their need to flee, Harry couldn’t say; but he was relieved that they had gotten to it, and finding new lodgings wasn’t as unpleasant when slightly tipsy.

“But the White Ferret is so much cheaper than the others,” Charlie was explaining to Draco.

“Cheaper?” the blond repeated coldly. Sensing danger, Harry set a hand over the blonde’s chest, in case he had to grab him and hold him back.

“Well, of course it’s cheaper, it doesn’t have as nice of a view…”

“Nothing pretty about the white ferret, now, is there?” Draco hissed. He moved slightly, as if about to get up, but Harry pressed his hand down on Draco’s chest to hold him still.

“Calm down,” Harry whispered in his ear. “He’s not trying to be mean.”

“He’s doing a damn good job without trying…”

“What’s the next best thing?” Harry called up to Charlie, while trying to distract Draco from his rage by tickling his abs lightly. It must have worked, because Draco relaxed and rested his head against Harry’s gut again.

“Some Blue Heron Inn. Why are all these places named after colorful animals or expired bedding?” Charlie mused.

“It’ll do. It’s just a temporary place. It’s not like we’ll be spending weeks there.”

“But where would we go to after that?” Charlie demanded, as he rolled over and dangled his flaming red head over the edge of the bunk. “None of use really have a house to go to. Nilly’s at your place, the Burrow was destroyed, Draco’s been disowned, and Hermione’s house is being watched by Death Eaters.”

“You act as if I’m not filthy stinking rich,” Harry laughed lightly. “I could probably buy my own mansion right now.” Charlie rolled his eyes and vanished back into the upper bunk, but Draco’s reaction was far different. He sat up so fast that he crashed his head painfully on the upper bunk, staring at Harry with wide gray eyes.

“You really are rich?” he asked excitedly. “That wasn’t just a rumor?” Harry cracked up.

“Rich and famous,” Harry assured him. Draco’s eyes glazed and he lay back down on his beau, a great big smile plastered on his face.

“I really know how to pick ‘em,” Draco congratulated himself as he lightly nuzzled the Gryffindor’s midriff. “Rich, famous, cute, and modest. Score.” Harry tired to stifle his laughter. At least he now knew for a fact that Draco hadn’t been in it for money. He had known that Draco was after the protection of Harry’s name. “But then… Why have you lived with the Dursleys? Why do you always dress like an elephant?” Harry sighed, realizing he had some storytelling to do.

“Ugh, I don’t want to hear this all over again,” Charlie groaned. The bunk shifted above Harry and Draco as the oldest remaining Weasley moved down the ladder. “I’m going to get Hermione to… er, fellytone the people at this Blue Heron place and see if there’s any room available…”

“Telephone,” both Harry and Draco corrected him. With a shrug, Charlie retired from the room, closing the door of Room 4 behind him. “So…”

“I don’t want to explain it all over again,” Harry pleaded with Draco. “It’s too time consuming. I’d rather just lie here and drink Butterbeer.”

“But I have to know!” Draco whined, sitting up and setting his Butterbeer on the bedside table.

“No, you don’t!”

“Yes!”

“No!” And Harry stuck his tongue out at Draco, relishing in feeling so childish. This was the wrong move. Harry’s Seeker reflexes were useless against Draco’s snake-like strike. Draco’s objective was clearly to bite the target- the target being Harry’s tongue. Harry hadn’t been able to dodge it, but he’d managed to zip his tongue back into the safety of his mouth before the Slytherin nipped his lips. Draco didn’t give him time to enjoy it. He instantly pulled back away from Harry with a mad glint in his eye.

“I’m going to kill the Dursleys,” Draco hissed.

“But Dumbledore was the one that-”

“What’s the use in trying to kill Dumbledore? I’ll kill the Dursleys!”

“But then I’ll have no magical protection!”

“You have me. Let’s go buy condoms.”

“What?! I-” Draco silenced him by pressing his lips roughly against the Gryffindor’s. “Not fair,” Harry muttered a moment later, having barely been able to summon enough willpower to shove Draco away. He had his old smirk in place, though his eyes had a hungry glint in them.

“Of course it isn’t. I saw an weakness and I went for it.”

“What are we, dueling?” Harry sarcastically snorted. Draco grinned and nodded. “Oh, we are? Well, I hope you’re ready to lose again…” Harry slowly sat up with a smirk, having fun pretending.

“Lose again? Last time was a draw, Potter. You took control of my snake.”

“Life’s just not fair, is it?” Harry chuckled. He brushed a bit of his jet black hair out of his eyes, exposing his scar on whim.

“Not when you’re going against Dark Wizard Harry Potter,” Draco agreed. “Merlin, that sounds stupid. We have to come up with a better name for you.” That took Harry aback. Draco chose the strangest times to bring this up. First when he was lying in a bathtub, bleeding all over- and now in bed, while Harry was STILL bleeding? Now that Harry thought about it, it had been a while since he’d had some blood replenishing potion, but he felt fine enough.

“A better name?” Harry repeated, shaking his thoughts out of his head.

“Yes! Maybe the Dark Lord will have a little more respect for you if you run about claiming to be a Dark Wizard.” Harry’s thoughts whirled. But what about the general public? Didn’t they practically idolize him as being the ultimate Anti-Dark Wizard? “Perhaps an anagram of your name? It’s Harry James Potter, right? Hmm… Master, Master something. That leaves the letters in Harry, then J, E, P, O, and T.”

“You’re quick with anagrams, aren’t you?” Harry groaned. He didn’t really want to be called Master anything.

“Torreyjahp?” Draco mumbled, looking away from Harry. He ran a hand through his silky blond hair as he thought aloud. “No. Merlin, your name sucks, Harry. Master… Rajepthory? Master… Hmm, Master…”

“Will Harryjepot do?”

“Harryjepot? Yuck, no!” Draco hissed as he stood. “Jeptyrahro… Tyraejephro…”

“What about Master Tyrael?”

“Tyrael is an archangel,” Draco pointed out, turning to look at Harry.

“Oh. Never mind…”

“Alright, screw the anagrams. How does Vorgalmortis sound to you?”

“An awful lot like Voldemort,” Harry said instantly. Draco flinched, eyes darkening for a moment. But a split second later, they opened rather wide, as if Draco were staring at something bright and beautiful, though his gaze was directed at Harry’s scar.

“It would certainly get the point across…”

“I don’t like it.”

“People might cringe at the similarity…”

“I am not going to use that name.”

“Are you not learning the Dark Arts?” Harry sighed, feeling not need to answer Draco. “Are you not bent on murdering the Dark Lord?” Harry began to speak, but Draco cut him off. “Bent. On. Murder. Look at your similarities, Harry. Look at the magic you’ve done. Look at how many times you’ve defeated the most powerful Dark Wizard of the age! Look what you’re becoming!” With that, Draco’s pale hand vaulted towards Harry’s neck. Before Harry could move or make any noise, the bandages that had held the holes in Harry’s neck shut were torn away. The small young man bit back a gasp of shock as cold air hit the protected skin of his throat.

“What did you do that for?!” Harry yelled, grabbing the bandage back out of Draco’s pale hands. The blond only shook his head, grabbed Harry’s empty hand, and brought it up to his neck.

“Do you feel that?” Draco asked slowly, a small smile decorating his lips. Harry’s brilliant green eyes opened wider. Indeed, he did feel it. Beneath his fingers was a slimy layer of congealed blood… and two little bumps. Scars, not bleeding flesh wounds. “If you don’t want to be a vampire, you’d better tell me now, because at this rate you won’t be a wizard next week.”

“I don’t want to be a vampire!” Harry squeaked, trying hard to keep his voice down. “I don’t want to Dark Wizard, either!” Draco nodded and gently wiped the crusty old blood off Harry’s neck with the bandage, brushing his lips lightly over the petrified wizard’s forehead. His hand brushed over the white dragon patch on Harry’s black shirt.

“Think about it, Harry... Vorgalmortis and his Dragon…” Harry still didn’t move. Draco went lower, taking a moment to lock gazes with Harry. He voice slowly grew soft and smoother. His gaze softened slightly. “We could have forever, you know. We’ll find a way to kill Voldemort. We’ll get rid of the Death Eaters. We can live happily ever after.” Their noses touched lightly. Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Harry could feel Draco‘s lips moving against his own as he began to speak again. “I don’t want you to get old without me and leave me alone forever. Harry, I-”

“PACKING TIME!” Charlie bellowed from the doorway. Harry and Draco both cried out and jumped up in shock, grabbing each other tightly. Charlie laughed wickedly as he dropped a suitcase next to them. “I didn’t interrupt anything, did I? Ha ha!”

“Nothing important. We were only plotting your agonizing demise,” Draco hissed. “The first of many agonizing demises to come." Charlie only laughed louder.

“That doesn’t surprise me at all.” He moved back towards the door, still chuckling madly. “I’d be plotting my demise too, if I were you… There wasn’t any space left at the Blue Heron. We’re staying at the White Ferret Inn.”

There was a ringing silence. Draco looked ready to die of mortification. Harry plugged his ears as Draco’s mouth began to open.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Twisted, Twisted Ferret

“I DON’T WANNA GOOOOOOOO!”

“Shut up, Draco!” Harry hissed, considering using his sock to gag the blond. Socks seemed to be particularly effective weapons against Malfoys… Of course, Draco isn’t a Malfoy anymore. Harry couldn’t help it but grin at the struggling vampire, who’s shiny black trousers were wrinkled from scuffling about and trying to escape his bonds. This would not have been possible if the sun-blocking Praesidium Helios charm failed, which, thankfully, it hadn’t. After Draco’s third attempt to shove Charlie into the path of a large vehicle, they’d had no choice but to tie him onto a suitcase and carry him behind them like luggage. He made his dislike of the situation perfectly clear; Ron was toting Hedwig and Pigwidgeon in the same cage, because Draco kept spitting at the Snowy owl.

They were currently walking across London, on their way to the White Ferret Inn. Although they received a fair few stares for walking around with owls and a blond guy in a robe tied to a suitcase, it was safer than trying to fly there. They would have Apparated, were it not for their luggage. They weren’t even halfway there and the journey was rather unpleasant so far.

“Are we supposed to cross when the sign shows a red hand, or a stick figure?” Charlie asked when they reached their first street crossing with a light involved.

“Red hand!” Draco chirped helpfully.

“Stick figure,” Harry and Hermione said immediately. Charlie glared at the back of Draco’s silky blond head as he waited for the light to change. Harry shook his head. He must really not want to come. Draco only smiled pleasantly from the back of Harry’s trunk, humming a tune that he’d clearly invented on the spot. Still, Harry could tell Draco was extremely upset, from the way his eyes kept shifting around, the way he bit his lips, and the way his eyebrows were drawn.

The rest of their trek across London was rather eventful. Though firmly latched onto their luggage, Draco managed to create no less than eleven potentially deadly situations. One of Draco’s stunts involved digging his heels so deeply into the road that only a collision with a speeding semi managed to dislodge him. Had Draco not been a vampire and Harry’s trunk not magically enhanced, there probably would have been a blond corpse splattered on top of Harry’s scattered school things. Harry had suffered a rather painful crushed ankle from the incident. “Damn lucky that’s all,” Charlie assured him later.

Draco’s worst stunt by far happened about three minutes after that. Upon catching sight of a Muggle police officer, Draco began to scream hysterically, throwing in a few choice words, like “kidnap,” and “rape,” and “dear Lord, help me.” The second the policeman saw the blond tied onto Harry’s trunk, the three Gryffindors ran for their lives. Though not nearly as dangerous, Harry later admitted that escaping the police was more challenging than fighting Voldemort and his Death eaters. Their flight was made all the harder by Draco’s screaming which alerted the cops to their presence whenever they tried to hide and catch their breath; it also encouraged innocent bystanders to help the cops along.

It was really Hermione’s genius that saved them; it was her bright idea to transfigure the lot of them into boxes and trash cans for about fifteen minutes. Draco didn’t pull that stunt again, though impersonating Ron’s voice and insulting everyone participating in an outdoor martial arts lesson was bad enough.

By the time the group finally reached the White Ferret Inn, the battered, rat-infested box looked as welcoming as Hogwarts castle. They had a few bruises and mild injuries in need of repair, and they desperately needed to rinse the sweat off their exhausted bodies. It was a rather cute place, from the outside; the entire wall had been covered with a mural featuring many adorable children holding ferrets in a playground. Ron and Harry sat beside a larger-than-life blond with many freckles, waiting for Charlie and Hermione to get them all registered.

Draco was too busy sulking to talk.

“You know, Harry,” Ron was saying. “That was actually quite an adventure.”

“No kidding,” Harry answered, using his black shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow. He wheeled Draco a bit closer, determined to keep an eye on the Slytherin, who was behaving extremely Slytherin-ish at the time. “Some of it was actually fun.”

“And a good way to get back into shape for Quidditch,” Ron added brightly. “Taking Draco for a walk.”

Harry couldn’t help it but laugh. “He’s not a dog, Ron!”

“He’s certainly acting like one,” Ron insisted, giving Draco an evil leer.

“He’s acting like a snake. There’s a difference there.” Harry couldn’t help it but be amused; why he still felt like defending Draco, he had no idea.

“Maybe he’s acting like a bloody ferret,” Ron continued. Draco attempted to light Ron on fire with his crimson eyes.

“Bloody? Only whenever possible,” Draco muttered. Harry grinned broadly.

“Oh, stop sulking. Just look at this place. You’re easily the best-looking ferret here. You put them all to shame.” His compliment only seemed to bother Draco more; he refused to look at them, but his white hands clenched into fists and a clearly inhuman snarl left the blonde’s throat. Harry and Ron both fell silent for a few moments. “Er… Draco, what’s your problem? I mean, just because you got turned into a ferret and bounced around a bit-”

“For trying to hex Harry,” Ron added.

“- Yes, for trying to hex me… That really shouldn’t affect you this much.” while Harry spoke, he actually began to wonder if Draco’s anger towards the Inn wasn’t entirely due to Crouch’s ferrety punishment.

“That’s not why I…” Draco began, but suddenly he looked alarmed and turned away from them, biting his lip furiously. Harry froze, curiosity overwhelming him. All was silent.

“Yes?” Ron pressed after a minute.

Draco’s voice became low and rasping, his face still turned away from both of them. “**** you, you prying, obnoxious, loathsome, misshapen, despicable-”

“DRACO!” Harry gasped.

argh. i'll find the rest of dat chapter. i lost it

Harry/Draco. icon5 weep

“- Foul, odious, revolting, repugnant, sordid, vexatious, bellicose, pugnacious-”

“I get the idea,” Ron spat. His fists were knotting.

“- Ghastly, defunct troglodyte,” Draco concluded heatedly. He took a deep, shuddering breath and kept his face turned away from the Gryffindors.

“Are you done?” Harry asked quietly. Draco’s back and hands were trembling.

“No. Untie me,” the blond demanded.

“Not until we’re in the room,” Charlie’s voice cut in. He waltzed up looking as cool as a frozen cucumber, swinging the room key in circles around his pinky. For a split second, he looked like a slightly younger Bill. Harry shook the mental image of the eldest of the Weasley brothers out of his head. There were better times to mourn. “And not until we’ve blocked every exit. You’re not running away on us.”

As Harry picked up the trunk again, Draco bit out, “If the room is decorated with ferrets, you will soon be joining the Longbottoms in St. Mungo’s.” Harry knew that wasn’t an insult directed at Neville and his family; it was just a threat, so he shouldn’t think much of it. Charlie led them to room 128, whistling cheerfully and ignoring Draco.

Charlie fitted the key into the lock, turned it, and pulled the door open, dramatically slow. Everybody but Draco gasped.

“Oh, no,” Draco moaned. “Merlin, no. I’m going to hurt you, Weasley… No, no, no…”

The room was like a ferret fan’s dream come true. The white wallpaper was covered in cute cartoon ferrets. The three beds each a giant ferret-shaped pillow on them. Somebody had gone to the trouble of spray painting the TV white (not the screen, of course) and painting the most adorable little ferrets all over it. The switch plates all bore ferrets as well. The carpet… ferrets. The lamp shade… ferrets. Harry glanced into the bathroom. The shower curtain… ferrets. The soap and the soap dish looked like a mother ferret and her little ferret babies.

“This is a nightmare. Why am I not waking up? Oh, Harry, kill me,” Draco whimpered. His eyes were the size of dinner plates.

Ron finally gave in to temptation. “You know, this place kind of reminds me of someone,” he barely managed to snigger.

“Kill me, kill me, kill me,” Draco was chanting. Harry helpfully clamped a hand over Draco’s eyes to block out all the ferrets. He was slightly alarmed when he felt sweat all over Draco’s face.

“Well, bring him in,” Hermione said briskly, finally having gotten over the shock of the room’s first impression. “He’ll live. Or, at least, do something close to it. I’ll block the doors.” Harry gently rolled Draco in, keeping his hand over the vampire’s eyes.

Charlie’s face was screwed up with suppressed laughter. Finally, he could stand it no more, and he choked out, “Just look at all these ferrets! What a place for a family reunion! Eh, Draco?”

The next few seconds came as a horrifying blur to Harry. One minute, the ropes held a mortified Draco down to Harry’s trunk. The next moment, they were gone completely. Pain ripped through Harry’s arm as the blond twisted it off his face, and before the Gryffindor had time to move he had been hurled across the room on his back. His thin shirt tore from the friction with the carpet, and his skin burned from the rough contact. Draco’s hand was clutched around Hermione’s wand wrist so hard that the fingers were digging through her skin. Globs of blood began to pool around Draco’s fingers as Harry watched. The surprised witch was shrieking in pain and uselessly trying to pull her hand away.

“Draco!” Harry cried, trying to sit up. “STOP!”

The vampire’s face was contorted with fury. Suddenly, he looked exactly like his father did when Harry freed Dobby. Except for the red eyes and fangs. “Don’t you talk about my family,” Draco snarled at Charlie. “Putori Oppugno!” Hermione screamed as Draco whipped her arm about, performing the wand movements to accompany the incantation. About ten monstrous ferrets streamed out of Hermione’s wand, all white with massive red eyes and abnormally large teeth, all headed straight towards Charlie.

Ron sprang forward with a cry, getting in the path of the ferrets right before they hit his brother. Harry watched with morbid fascination as the creatures swarmed all over Ron’s body, biting, clawing, trying to do as much damage as possible. Ron shrieked as he fell over, and writhed as he tried to knock the ferrets away, but they were far too fast for him. Charlie fumbled for his wand and tried to aim at them, but it was useless.

Harry stumbled to his feet, watching as Draco tore his hand out of Hermione’s wrist and sucked the smeared blood off his fingertips. Hermione, sobbing, stumbled away from him, dropping her wand and cradling her damaged wrist.

Draco cast one more venomous look at the Weasleys… then he began to change. His nose became longer, pinker. White fur began to sprout all over his pale body. He got smaller and smaller inside his clothes, ears shifting higher on his head and becoming circular-

“He’s an Animagus!” Harry gasped to no-one in particular. “No- WAIT!” A little white ferret bounced out of the pool of clothes left on the floor, and hurled itself out the door as if there were a dragon after him. Harry leapt over Ron, resolving to check on his friend after Draco was caught. Even as a ferret, Draco seemed to have unnatural speed. Though Harry vaulted out the door and tore after him down the hall, the chase only lasted a mere ten seconds. Harry just wasn’t fast enough.

Draco was gone.

(there. the bit i lost 😉)

now, ill post chapters, nineteen, twenty and twenty one next. 😉

CHAPTER NINETEEN: British Wereferret in London (haha!)

“It’s not use, Hermione, I’m done for,” Ron moaned. “The world’s all dark. I can’t see. The angels call...”

“You’re not dying,” Charlie informed him, his voice low and humorless. “But your eyes might never be the same again.” The youngest Weasley was still on the floor, but now a ferret pillow supported his head and the monstrous ferrets were nowhere to be seen. Harry had wizened up and cast Immobulus on the ferrets, which slowed them down enough for a Finite Incantum. Still, Draco’s rabid ferrets had managed to do plenty of damage to Ron; his skin was covered in bites are scratches, which bled profusely, and the vile creatures had almost removed Ron’s eyes. Harry had seen the concern written on his friend’s features, and he knew they were considering taking Ron to St. Mungo’s.

While Hermione and Charlie worked over Ron, Harry sat quietly on the farthest bed, hugging a ferret pillow and absently stroking Hedwig. It had been three hours since Draco attacked Charlie. The current time was 4:21. True, Charlie’s joke about Draco’s family being a pack of ferrets was undeniably offensive and insulting; but attacking Charlie, hurling Harry across the room, and crushing Hermione’s arm was a little more than overreacting. Harry bit down his rage. Surely there had to be a reason for what Draco did... He had been fine with Harry’s friends for so long. Perhaps they’d been slowly getting on Draco’s nerves more and more, and this was the last straw?

Hedwig nipped Harry’s finger sharply. “Ow! What?” Harry demanded, pulling his hand away. Then a faint rapping caught his attention. A shadow was swinging in front of the closed curtains of their room, a shadow that looked like- “Owl post?” Hermione and Charlie looked up form their moaning charge as Harry drew back the curtains. The messenger was a raven, but like no raven he’d ever seen before; it’s wings were tipped with gold, it’s feet were decorated with ornate jewels. Most mysteriously of all, the bird didn’t have a letter, but it was still tapping at the window to enter. Harry opened the window for it.

The raven soared in, did a loop-de-loop with relish, and landed on Harry’s shoulder. It’s claws dug in a little bit, but that wasn’t any worse than Hedwig. “Harry Potter?” The raven croaked. Harry held absolutely still.

“Yes, that’s me,” Harry said slowly.

“How are you, gentleman?” Harry opened his mouth to answer, but the bird screeched, “All your base are belong to us! All you base are belong to us!”

“What?” Charlie gasped, and Hermione did a perfect imitation of him as she stood. The raven flew off Harry’s shoulder, landing on the bedpost. It’s red eyes sparkled mirthfully.

“Message from Niles, for Harry Potter... All your base are belong to us!” Harry stared at the bird, his mind whirling with horror. Does Niles already know about Draco? “Message from Niles, to Hermione Granger... what kind of shampoo do you use?”

“Alotta Luster’s Silky-Shiny Shimmer formula,” Hermione said slowly.

“I must warn her against it, I must warn her against it!” The raven screeched, apparently delighted at the chance to insult Hermione’s frizzy brown hair. “Message from Niles, for Charlie Weasley... You said you’d call at seven! I’ll never date you again. Never again!”

“Charlie?” Harry gasped, whirling to look at him. So, that’s why he met with her in Diagon Alley!

“That was Niles?” Charlie mumbled, flabbergasted by all appearances. “She said her name was... Nelly...” Then he bit his lip and turned away from them. “Niles. Nelly. Ugh, how could I have been so stupid? But all I did was buy her some ice-cream and hang out with her. We never did anything remotely like dating. I thought she was okay...”

Charlie probably would have continued, but the pompous bird wasn’t finished. “Message from Niles to Ronald Weasley...” Suddenly, it burst into song, it’s rough voice drilling into their skulls. “The moon is full... I start to sweat... Call the doctor... No, call the vet! I need to shave... My knees feel weak... I’ve turned into a ferret... hear me squeak!”

“But I don’t WANNA be a wereferret!” Ron whimpered, having caught on even faster than Harry.

With that, the bird took off with a flap, heading towards the still open window. “Wait!” Harry gasped. “Niles said... all my base? Including this Inn?” The bird cocked it’s head at Harry, nodded, and vanished a whirl of feathers.

Silence reigned for a long minute.

Harry stared down at the little ferrets on the carpet. For a brief moment, he thought he saw a cage swim before his vision. He shook it out of his head, wondering what that was about. His brain wandered to Draco, how trapped he must have felt, even before he was tied to the suitcase.

“That was enlightening,” Hermione eventually said, slowly getting back to cleaning Ron’s wounds. “All Harry’s base are belong to Niles. Charlie met Niles. Niles doesn’t like my hair.” For a moment, Hermione scowled. “Ron’s turning into a wereferret.”

“I don’t wanna,” Ron sobbed. Harry couldn’t see his face from across the room; he had intentionally avoided doing so, knowing that Ron’s face was a horrifying mess of shredded flesh at the moment.

“Oh, do stop whining, it could be worse...”

As Hermione spoke, Harry’s vision whirled. “Wha-” he mumbled, sitting on the bed. The cage was before him again- a wire cage with little water bottle and a dish of what looked like cat food. It was on top of a desk.

A desk that looked suspiciously like...

The image vanished, but Harry was only aware of Hermione asking, “What’s wrong?” before another image filled his head. In the bottom on the cage were the words “help me” written in the fluff used to line mouse cages. The vision left him as soon as it came. “Harry!” Hermione cried, but the Boy-Who-Lived was lost, seeing out the window of his old bedroom through the bars of the cage, looking down at the garden of Number 4, Privet Drive. Niles has Draco in a cage.

“Don’t make me Ennervate you!” Charlie said in a slightly high-pitched, terrified voice. He was shaking Harry’s shoulder rather roughly. For a moment, Charlie, froze, his eyes locked onto Harry’s arm, of all things. Harry slapped his hand away lightly, certain that he looked like he was having Voldemort-related fits.

“Harry, what was it?” Hermione demanded, knocking Charlie aside as she grabbed Harry’s shoulders and shook them just as Charlie had. “Did you see Voldemort? What was he-”

“Stop!” Harry bellowed, skittering up the bed and backing away from them. From the way his hands stuck to the pale fabric, he must have been sweating an awful lot. I’ll shower later. “I didn’t see Voldemort. I was just spacing out. Getting here took a lot out of me,” he muttered. It wasn’t that big of lie, but Hermione could see through it.

“You saw something,” Hermione persisted. She sat at the end of the bed, brushing her thick hair out of her face, followed closely by Charlie. “What was it?”

“Hello, I’m bleeding!” Ron whimpered.

“It can wait,” Harry said firmly, motioning toward Ron with a bob of the head. He hoped that was true, because he couldn’t possibly get to Privet Drive immediately. Still watching him with alarm, Hermione retreated from the bed, straightening out her jeans as she moved back to Ron’s side. Charlie’s expression was dark and slightly suspicious. “Ron first. I’ll tell you after Ron’s taken care of.”

“There’s a cut on your arm. Let me bandage that up for you,” Charlie said suddenly, grabbing Harry’s arm a little roughly and pulling him off the bed. Harry went along resentfully, knowing perfectly well that his arm was fine and Charlie wanted to talk to him. Charlie’s not Hermione. He won’t jump down my throat if I tell him the truth. At least, I don’t think he will...

The red-haired man led him to the bathroom and closed the door gently. Harry found he couldn’t stand to look in Charlie’s eyes, so he focused instead on the ferrety shower curtain. Perhaps it was just his (perfectly legitimate) fear of Legilimency kicking in, but Harry felt that Charlie’s eyes would surely hurt him. “Harry...”

“Yes?”

“Give me your arm.” His curiosity sparked, Harry obeyed him. Charlie’s rough hands were gentler now, simply holding up Harry’s arm. The Gryffindor cautiously peeked up after a few seconds of silence. Charlie was watching Harry’s arm as if it might bite him. Harry found he could face the Weasley once more, though he was endlessly confused by this display.

“You said Niles was a Death Eater?” Charlie asked, his voice light and somewhat distracted.

“She had the Dark Mark,” Harry said confidently.

“The Dark Mark can’t be hidden by any means other than clothes,” Charlie pointed out. “Hermione told me long ago that Voldemort wasn’t the first to use it. The skull and the snake? It originally symbolized the friendship between the dead and the serpentine- vampires and Parselmouths.” Harry wasn’t all that surprised by this news. Voldemort wasn’t exactly the most original guy ever- he merely took old ideas, perfected them, changed them, and made them terrifying. “The old Masters were the first to use it, marking their kinship with certain wizards and witches with that power.”

“And?”

Charlie twisted Harry’s arm slightly, tracing his fingers across the pale skin. “Think about the way it feels when Draco bites you.” Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Charlie interrupted. “Just do it. Close your eyes and think. Trust me.”

“You think I have the Dark Mark hidden under my skin,” Harry choked incredulously.

“No,” Charlie whispered. “I think it’s hidden in your blood.” Harry felt himself break out in a sweat, completely unnerved at the fact that Charlie was serious. He couldn’t possibly have the Dark Mark!

“Thanks, Charlie!” Harry said loudly, making certain he over-enunciated every syllable. “Boy, if you weren’t so good at applying bandages, I’d be a real mess. I’m definitely going to come running in your direction next time I get a flesh wound.”

“Harry-” Charlie pleaded, his fingers tightening around the raven-haired boy’s arm. For one terrifying second, his eyes seemed to glint red. Harry twisted around and spun the doorknob, pushing the bathroom door open and welcoming himself into the sanity of the inn room. Charlie let go of Harry and drew back as if he’d been slapped.

“What took so long?” Hermione asked, quirking an eyebrow at them.

“Had to clean the cut,” Harry cheerfully informed her.

“But how did you get cut in the first place?”

“Must have, err...” Harry looked around quickly. “Scratched myself on the post when I laid down. I’ll have to be more careful next time I start having wretched hallucinations, eh?” At her look, Harry hurriedly added, “I will explain later.” Hermione’s expression didn’t change. Desperate to escape all accusing eyes, Harry looked down to Ron’s- and found himself staring at congealed blood and goop. Beneath the freckles and splattered gore, Ron was nearly as pale as Draco. Harry grimaced. “We can stop pretending. He needs to go to St. Mungo’s, now. Maybe they can do something about this wereferret business.”

Hermione finally looked away, nodding in a bitter way. “St. Mungo’s?” Ron asked loudly.

“Yes, St. Mungo’s hospital,” Hermione assured him. Charlie stepped out of the bathroom, giving Harry an accusing look before summoning a stretcher under Ron. “We’re really going to take him there like this?”

“Do you plan on Apparating?” Charlie answered. “Harry, we might need your Invisibility Cloak. We’ll get weird looks if we’re seen carrying him on a stretcher.” Harry quickly dug the cloak out of his trunk, as Charlie added, “You’d better take care of that arm while we’re gone.”

“I’ll, err... take good care of it,” Harry lied as he passed his cloak over to them. Hermione tucked it over her boyfriend, staring at Harry’s face.

“You’re not coming with us?”

“I need to think,” he told her truthfully. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry. If Death Eaters find me, I’ll slaughter the lot of them and complain to the inn keeper about bad locks.”

“HARRY!”

“Err, I meant to say that I’ll leave a note and Apparate the hell out of here.”

“Good.” Harry couldn’t help it but chuckle. Merlin knows where that sudden sadistic streak came from, but he found it amusing. Harry made a beeline for the bed as his three companions left the room, and heard the click as the door locked behind them. Harry couldn’t stop smiling, realizing that, for the first time in a few weeks, he was completely alone. Well, not completely- Hedwig and Pigwidgeon were still there. But there were no other people. Glory!

But what to do with his spare time? Harry closed his eyes, thinking... What can I do...?

Written in the bottom of Draco’s cage were the words, “You could HELP ME.”

Harry sat bolt upright. How did he know what I was thinking?

“Our bond is stronger than you think,” Draco’s written answer came. The letters became jumbled for a moment, twisting and forming new words. “Hurry. Niles wants me to kill the Dursleys.”

Harry leapt off the bed and ran out the door, but Charlie and Hermione were nowhere to be seen. Great. As usual, I have to do everything alone. Harry scrambled back into the room, grabbing a quill and a bit of parchment from his trunk. He couldn’t just run off without leaving a message for Hermione and Charlie...

Charlie, Hermione, Ron...
Sorry I had to run off and vanish like this. My bond with Draco runs deeper than Voldemort’s. He’s been sending me visions and snippets of information for a little while, and I’ve gathered that Niles has him in a cage at Privet Drive, and she intends to make him kill the Dursleys. I don’t think this can wait until Ron is fixed up. If I’m not back when you are, you’ll know where to start looking for me.

Harry lifted his quill from the paper, reading it over. It was probably the most poorly written letter he’d ever made.

P.S- I know that sounds incredibly stupid, and I skimmed over a lot of the details, but that’s how it is.

Harry lifted his quill once more, thinking of the troubles that lay ahead of him.

P.P.S- If I die, you can have my stuff.

With that, Harry taped the note onto the table, made sure his wand was securely in his pocket, and left. The Dark Mark decorating his forearm vanished as he walked out the door.

CHAPTER TWENTY: An Unfortunate Plot Twist

Noticing that it was nightfall, Harry decided to take the Knight Bus to reach Privet Drive. The new bus staff had made the ride somewhat interesting. Old Ernie had passed away, and been replaced by an even wilder driver- some American witch called “Kitty” who screamed and roared with delight at the very idea of speed, who tried in vain to spread this glee with the terrified passengers as she nearly wrecked every three seconds. Harry particularly disliked the ride, since the hot cocoa he had bought for the ride had almost instantly been splashed onto his crotch, and he spent much of the ride testing out various ways to cool his roasted weenie.

Stan Shunpike, on charges of being a Death Eater, was currently in Azkaban. Harry tried to keep his rage down as he watched the new conductor. This guy, though maintaining a professional air, gave off a more “dotty” vibe than Luna Lovegood. He had greeted Harry by saying, “Welcome for our Knight Bus. As your conductor, I shall be of the name Red Herrington. What with you being Harry Potter, we will build you a great discount on our Knight machine. Enter aboard.”

By the time Harry stumbled off the bus, he was dizzy and his stomach wanted to churn up what little cocoa he hadn’t spilled on his lap. He sat on the sidewalk and watched in awe as Kitty sent the bus sailing away, bellowing, “You hear that engine? That’s the sound of power!” When it finally vanished, from sight, he heard the telltale crunching noise of a purple double-decker bus becoming intimately acquainted with a telephone pole.

Casting one more Aguamenti and a final cleaning spell on his burnt crotch, Harry turned to face the home of the Dursleys. All the lights were off this time. That’s odd. They don’t normally go to bed this early. Still undaunted, Harry moved forwards. He remember the way Draco’s hearing had betrayed Hermione’s presence, and he knew that sneaking in would do him no good. He’d be best off just walking right up to the door, knocking, and demanding to see “Nilly’s” pet ferret.

Harry walked up those familiar steps once more, and lifted his hand to knock at the door before realizing it was open. Why would the Dursleys leave the door open? Harry wondered, bewildered. He tightened his fingers around his wand as he crossed the threshold.

He was greeted by a darkened hallway. The curtains had been drawn, so the light from the streetlights couldn’t pierce it’s way in. Appreciating the fact that he was finally of age, Harry quietly cast a Lumos instead of turning on the hall light. Everything was exactly as he had left it; all prim and proper and clean. “Hello?” Harry whispered as he closed the door behind him. “Anybody here? Petunia? Dudley? Nilly?”

He received no answer.

Heaving a sigh, Harry carefully went upstairs, avoiding the squeaky step, listening for any sign of noise. He still heard nothing and saw nothing peculiar. This rather unnerved him; he, who had gone through many battles in many unnatural and terrifying places. He reached the door to his old room, and upon finding the door slightly ajar, let himself in.

Niles was nowhere to be seen, but the cage he had seen in his visions was before him. It was on his old desk, right beside the window. It had the appearance of a perfectly ordinary cage, but Harry had a feeling there was more to it. Curled up in the far corner, asleep inside an empty food dish, was a sleek white ferret. Taking one more furtive glance around him, Harry quietly closed the door.

“Draco!” Harry whispered loudly, moving towards the cage with his wand brandished. The ferret opened one bleary red eye, yawned, and perked it’s head up. Though it’s fangs were rather long, Harry felt a strong desire to pick up the little thing and cuddle it. Harry shook those thoughts out of his head. “You are Draco, right?” The little weasel stretched and nodded. “Can you get out?” With that, the ferret shook it’s head. “And you can’t change back into a human, can you?” Draco shook his head again, as he slinked out of his cozy little bowl and pressed his face to the metal bars.

Harry found himself reaching out his hand to stroke the fur on Draco’s cheek. “I’ll get you out, but you definitely owe me an explanation, and you owe the Weasleys an apology.” Draco nodded again. Harry pulled his hand away, and turned to the cage door. It had a lock on it of a kind Harry had never seen before; it looked more like a puzzle. It was shaped like a pyramid with a keyhole in every side, fused directly onto the latch.

“Maybe… Alohamora!” Harry tried this spell three times, to no effect. Trying out a weak Searing Charm got him nowhere. Draco moved himself to the back of the cage. “Think you’d be alright if I ripped the cage in half?” Harry asked him slowly. The white ferret promptly turned his food bowl over and hid underneath it for protection. Harry couldn’t help it but grin. Draco certainly made a cute ferret, even though his intelligence clearly labeled him as human. Vampire, Harry corrected himself mentally. Although, there really isn’t much difference there. Harry pointed his wand at the lock…

“Diffindo,” Harry said clearly. The lock, the cage, and the desk underneath all split in half with a loud clang. Draco’s half began to tilt as it fell over; Harry barely managed to plunge his arm into the falling cage and catch the ferret before his bowl got crushed under the falling desk. Harry was certain he wouldn’t have been able to catch Draco if he hadn’t been half-vampire. The desk still managed to squish Harry’s big toe, but it was a small price to pay. He just hoped that the noise hadn’t alerted anyone to his presence.

The bowl Draco had been hiding under had snapped in half under the weight of the desk.

Lifting his hand, he saw that Draco was clutching Harry’s fingers with his little claws- and shaking like a leaf. “Are you okay?” Harry asked urgently, lifting Draco up to his face. The little ferret’s eyes closed for a moment… then he nodded. Harry gave him a relieved smile and gave him a light hug. Draco was somewhat cool to the touch, and Harry found himself wondering if Draco was just as much a vampire in ferret form as he was in human form. Draco relaxed his head against Harry’s chest for one brief moment. Then he began to squirm.

Harry dropped the ferret as he began to transform. It started with the tip of his pink nose; it quickly melted to form the slightly pointy nose that had wrinkled at Hermione so many times over the years. The tail quickly slipped away into nothing. Circular red eyes became gray and slightly more almond-shaped. Tiny, clawed hands swelled in size. Harry had only to blink and Draco was done transforming back into his natural shape. The Slytherin had the most unusual expression on his face. His gray eyes were wide and watery, a grin tugged at the corners of his lips, and despite his new black eye, Draco looked ready to cry from happiness.

“Thank you,” Draco whispered, before pouncing at Harry and knocking him to the floor in a crushing embrace. Harry squawked in protest, and pried the blond off.

“You have to be quiet!” Harry hissed, holding Draco back at the shoulders. “What if somebody hears you? Somebody like Niles or Vernon?” Draco’s sparkly eyes sudden became very lifeless above Harry. The vampire slowly lifted himself off of the Gryffindor, letting his fancy black cloak fall slightly off his shoulder and expose the black muscle shirt underneath. The white snake on his shirt seemed to curl up in a ball, almost as if trying to hide.

“Why do you look like Voldemort is standing behind me?” Harry asked slowly, praying that wasn’t the cause of Draco’s mood change.

“Vernon,” Draco said slowly, “is no longer here.” There was something hollow in his tone, and Harry assumed there was more to it. He found the hair on the back of his neck prickling.

“Where did he go?”

“The same place I went,” Draco muttered. In one fluid motion that no human could have accomplished, he twisted up from a sitting potion and fell gracefully onto the bed. “The same place I am now, actually. I suppose you could call it limbo. Perhaps it would be better if you called it, ‘the place where the souls of the undead reside’.”

“What’s that mean?” Harry asked sharply, sitting up and grabbing Draco’s knee. Vernon, undead? “Niles didn’t…” Vernon. Undead. “No.”

“And your aunt, and your cousin,” Draco continued, in the same empty voice. He seemed determined not to meet eyes with Harry.

“No,” Harry said firmly. “She wouldn’t turn them, she just wouldn’t. They would kill themselves, unless they blamed me…”

“It’s 8:30,” Draco observed. “Barely past sunset.“ Confused, Harry looked at the clock. Draco was right. What’s that got to do with…? “My darling mistress will have taken the Dursleys to the White Ferret by now.” Harry said nothing. His mind was whirling with too many confused thoughts. “Don’t get it yet? No, I don’t suppose you do. You’re an idiot like that…” The blond sat up and fixed his dark eyes on Harry’s blazing green ones. The hollowness Harry had seen before wasn’t just a figment of his imagination; Draco’s eyes were black, completely black and they looked even more inhuman than when his irises glowed red. Harry realized as he stared that Draco actually had two black eyes. He must have been hit repeatedly in the face.

“I don’t understand,” Harry whispered. His grip on Draco’s knee loosened.

“Niles,” the vampire began, “is a horrible, terrifying monster. Did you know she had a daughter?”

“No?”

“Well, now you know. I can here after attacking Charlie out of pure guilt. I figured that there was only one way to solve my problems- I had to kill Niles to become human again. But when I got here, I received a nasty shock. Your Muggle family was splattered all over the living room walls. My whore of a mistress was sharing your cousin with her daughter when I came in.”

Harry found his breath hitched. “Where are they now?”

“They’re not here, you don’t have to worry… But let me continue,” Draco ploughed on. He gently grasped Harry‘s trembling hand with his own pale one, his silver snake bracelets giving Harry‘s finger reassuring nuzzles. “You can well guess that Niles didn’t like having her dinner interrupted. She beat me up. I tried to escape by turning into a ferret, but that was a bad move… they caught me and stuffed me in that cage. The ****ing thing had a charm on it so I couldn’t change back.”

“Why did they do that?” Harry demanded. “Just because you interrupted them?”

“No, idiot!” Draco spat, before returning to his dark and vacant state. “Because they didn’t want me to go and warn you. I heard her talking through the floor. She’s got the Dursleys fully convinced that you’re the reason they’re vampires. That’s what the ***** had planned for the evening… she wanted them to kill you. She knows perfectly well that you couldn‘t fight your family.”

Harry found himself shrinking inside his skin.

That evil *****.

That evil, conniving, treacherous *****.

“And just to help out with her dirty scheme, she made sure you weren’t at the Leaky Cauldron. She wanted you to be as far from the help of other wizards as possible. That’s why we ended up in a Muggle hotel, a place where you’d be more vulnerable. I bet they’re still there, wreaking havoc, maybe even killing Muggles. Niles won‘t be happy when she finds out you’re here and I‘m free.”

Harry’s hands shook. “She murdered my family and tricked all of us, just to get to me?”

“Yeah… that evil, conniving, treacherous *****.” Harry didn’t want to imagine what the Dursleys must be feeling then. Three people that hated magic so much, suddenly turned into magical creatures? Yes, they would blame Harry even if Niles hadn’t tried to convince them. “I don’t know what to do…”

“What do you mean, you don’t know what to do?!” Harry demanded, standing up sharply. “Niles needs to be killed!”

“Keep it down!” Draco hissed, clamping a hand down on Harry’s mouth. “I said the Dursleys aren’t here, but somebody else is!” He smoothly moved off the bed, still holding Harry’s mouth shut as he guided him from the room. Confused and numb, Harry let himself be led. Once out the door, Harry was herded into the doorway of Dudley’s room. “Look,” Draco whispered.

Draco slowly pushed the door open, revealing a very strange sight indeed. Curled up on top of Dudley’s wrinkled sheets was a little girl, around the age of nine. Her skin was just as black as Niles’, she had the same facial features. Her hair was a golden orange-blond. Though she was dressed in one of Dudley’s ugly red shirts, which was easily large enough to go past her knees, she was absolutely gorgeous. Her eyes were closed in sleep, a small smile played on her lips.

Draco let go of Harry‘s mouth. “Who is she?” Harry whispered immediately.

“Niles’ daughter,” the vampire replied. “She’s called Adyn… I think it might be a nickname for Adonis. After all, Niles is a male name too.” Draco closed the door. His features were weary. “This is why I can’t kill Niles.”

“That makes no sense. How does this girl change anything? What’s wrong with killing Niles?” Harry asked, honestly confused. Draco’s black eyes lightened slightly, flecks of gray appearing in their depths. It took Harry a moment to realize Draco’s eyes were watering.

“You have to ask? I know why I have to kill Niles, but I’m just not a murderer!” Harry bit his lips, realizing what he had said. Nothing wrong with killing… Draco grasped Harry‘s shoulders and pulled himself in for a hug. The Gryffindor found himself wrapping his arms around the blond. “Harry? I’m not the cold bad-ass I’ve always pretended to be… I’m not my father… How can I kill a monster that sings her child to sleep?”

Draco shuddered for a moment, and the next thing Harry knew, the Slytherin had dragged them both to the floor. Crimson tears stained Harry’s clean black shirt. Deciding not to remind Draco of his debt to the Weasleys, Harry held tightly to Draco, letting him cry his still heart out.

He still didn’t notice the Dark Mark that blazed under his skin.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE: An Unfortunate Plot Twist

It had been nearly ten minutes before Draco’s fit of angst passed. It had ended so abruptly that Harry almost missed it; one minute, the vampire was sobbing in Harry’s arms, and the next, he fled to wash his bloodstained face in the bathroom. Harry was left in the hallway, staring at the bloody tears that had saturated his cloak, wondering how best to explain them to the Weasleys and Hermione. They would probably think he’d been stabbed.

Aside from the sound of water rushing into a basin, interrupted only by Draco’s hands scooping it up and splashing it at his face, Harry could hear nothing. He had been concerned for a while that Draco’s sobs would awake the blond child sleeping in the next room. “Of course they didn’t,” Draco whispered in Harry’s ear. The Gryffindor muffled his shriek in shock. He hadn’t noticed the blond leaving the washroom, or reading his mind lately.

“Damn it! Don’t do that!” Harry gasped, annoyed by his hammering heartbeat, annoyed by Draco’s smirk, annoyed by the crusty feeling of his bloody shirt. The offending blond only laughed, offering Harry a hand up. As Harry took it, he hissed “bloody sadist” under his breath.

“What will your friends think?” Draco asked, smirk still firmly set on his face. “Harry Potter vanishes without any forewarning, leaving a note finished by a miniature will, then returns covered in blood! Are you the newest Dark Lord? Are you Vorgulmortis, the king of nightmares? Or did you decide to become a vampire, just to please your incredibly gorgeous boyfriend?” He seemed to be delighted at the very thought of this.

“Ha, ha, ha… You arrogant git.” Harry couldn’t help it but smirk back the his incredibly conceited boyfriend. Chuckling, Draco draped his cloaked arms around Harry and leaned in to casually sniff the bespectacled boy’s chest. Blushing, Harry shoved him away. “Do you have multiple personalities?” the Gryffindor demanded to know. Draco only rolled his eyes, so Harry pushed his lens-less glasses higher on his face and continued. “You still have to explain yourself! And, you owe the Weasleys your apologies- and you’d sure as hell better pay Ron’s medical bill!” Draco’s smirk vanished.

“You really ought to change out of that shirt,” he said slowly, cocking his head to the side as he inspected Harry’s bloody black top.

“Don’t change the subject!”

“You smell like a road-kill squirrel.”

“You- what? Really?”

“Yes, it’s quite disgusting. Remind me to never cry again.” Draco took a step toward Harry, a very odd glint in his wicked gray eyes, which were fixated on Harry’s poor shirt. “If you won’t get rid of it yourself, I suppose I’ll just have to take this matter into my own hands…”

Uh oh.

Harry turned to run, but it was useless: Draco was faster, Draco had a head start, Draco really wanted that shirt gone. With that unnatural speed, the chase didn’t last a second. There was a moment where the cloth of his shirt tugged painfully at Harry’s side and armpit, before it was ripped cleanly off his body. Draco laughed triumphantly as Harry stumbled away, his cheeks burning furiously. “I liked that shirt,” he told Draco accusingly, when his balance was regained.

“Like all of your garments, it looks better ripped to pieces on the floor,” Draco informed him, dropping the tattered remains of Harry’s shirt and licking his lips.

Harry was as still as a disenchanted statue, jaw dropped, completely aghast. “How can you be perverted now!” he demanded, plucking up his wits as well as the bits of cotton from the carpet. “You’re crying one second, and hitting on me the next! You’ve been getting weirder and weirder since I found you! Seriously, how many personalities do you have?”

As if in answer, Draco’s eyes bulged.

“Forty three,” said a sweet voice from behind Harry’s back. This time, Harry did shriek as he fell to the floor and brandished his phoenix-core wand at the newcomer. Adyn stood there with an innocent smile on her black face, hands clasped in front of her, looking bright and perky despite her tangled blond hair and ruffled oversized shirt that stank of Dudley. “Adyn has named them all. Mr. Potter is addressing one named Binky now.”

“Adyn,” Draco whispered, grabbed Harry’s shoulder and pulling the wizard closer to him as he stepped away from the child vampire. There was a very fake smile on thin boy’s pale lips, obviously there as an illusion of calm. “How long have you been awake?”

“Adyn never fell asleep, ferret-boy,” the blond giggled. “Adyn’s mom-goose told her to guard Draco, did she not?” Harry and Draco couldn’t answer. Adyn’s orange eyes flashed to Harry’s arm for a split second. Eyebrows furrowing, the tousled blond asked, “Why didn’t Draco tell Adyn’s mom-goose that you spoke to snakes?”

Harry wanted to ask who Adyn’s mom-goose was, and why she spoke in third person, but instead he asked, “How did you know I could talk to snakes?”

“Silly mongoose!” Adyn laughed, skipping a couple steps toward Harry. Her orange eyes blinked up at him, as innocent as pie. “Snake-boy has the Dark Mark! Look, it’s pretty!”

Niles’ spawn leapt forward, catching Harry’s arm and twisting it up in his face. There, etched quite plainly in the pale skin of his forearm, was the same mark that had sent feelings of icy terror through him on so many occasions. The Quidditch World Cup flashed before Harry’s eyes. Snape showed his Dark Mark to a nonbeliever. Last he had seen the Mark, it was hovering over Hogwarts. Now, is if saying that Voldemort had killed something within Harry’s own body, the Dark Mark burned mockingly at him. Black lines formed a skull and a snake curling it’s way out of the mouth.

“Why do I have the Dark Mark?!” Harry screamed.

“Why do you have the Dark Mark?” Draco echoed, fixing the black mark on Harry’s arm with a truly Basilisk-like glare. Adyn laughed as she traced the contours of the skull with her soft black fingers, as if trying to memorize how to draw it. Disgusted and alarmed, Harry ripped his arm away from her, as if her touch burned.

“Silly mongoose,” Adonis cackled. “Harry speaks Parseltongue. Draco is a vampire.” Taking Harry’s hand, she guided the confused and terrified wizard to Draco and forced their hands to clasp. Only when Harry’s skin touched Draco’s calm palms did he realize how very sweaty his hands were. Smiling at them, the child pulled back Draco’s left sleeve, displaying a second Dark Mark in marble skin. Harry felt as if he’d been hurled naked into the Hogwarts lake, mid-winter. Draco felt the same alarm. His fingers tightened around Harry’s slightly. “Harry is dating Draco. When a Parselmouth is bonded with a vampire, both of them have the Dark Mark in their blood!”

“… What?” Harry and Draco both asked in unison. The young vampire rolled her orange eyes and poked Harry’s chest.

“Does Harry speak Parseltongue?” Harry nodded. Adyn poked Draco’s chest.

“Is Draco a vampire?”

“Yes,” Draco answered slowly. The child took a large step away from them, her oversize T-shirt wrinkling at her knees.

“Are Harry and Draco bonded in any way?” That wasn’t a hard one to answer. They both nodded. “That is why you both have the Dark Mark!”

“I still don’t see why-” Harry cut in, but Niles’ spawn interrupted.

“Silly, silly mongoose. Parselmouths are evil wizards that speak to snakes.” Harry felt an itch to prove Adyn wrong on the evil part. The black vampire gently took Harry’s arm into her hands, breaking his connection with Draco. Their Dark Marks faded slightly, becoming more brown than black. “That is why a snake comes out from the skull’s mouth- the skull speaks to snakes.” She pointed at the snake on Harry’s Dark Mark, as if she were a teacher pointing at notes on a board during a lecture. Her gaze turned to Draco. “Vampires are undead mongooses, right?”

“I am not a mongoose!” Draco snarled, taking one menacing step toward Niles’ daughter.

“Sorry… Adyn meant to say ferrets.” Harry hugged Draco, partially to calm him, partially in case he needed to hold the Slytherin back. Unperturbed, the little vampire went on in her melodic, squeaky voice. “The skull symbolizes undead like the vampire mongeeses. It’s really that simple. All Parselmouths bonded to undead have the Dark Mark. That is all! Harry was not marked in his sleep, or any crazy stuff like that!”

Adyn ended her lesson with a dramatic poke to Harry’s nose.

Harry found himself laughing.

“That’s twisted,” Draco muttered, eyes fixed on Harry’s forearm. Harry choked, his laugh dying on Parselmouth-speaking lips. “That’s just wrong. Harry Potter has the Dark Mark. It’s just… no. It’s not right.”

“I know what you mean,” Harry muttered, looking at it again. Now that he knew it had nothing to do with Voldemort, the crisp black lines actually looked rather impressive, almost beautiful. “But I suppose it’s permanent. People might react badly if they see it, especially on me… I guess I’m going to have to wear long sleeves from now on?”

“Long sleeves!” Adyn suddenly yelled. The noise made both Draco and Harry flinch and draw back. “Long sleeves! You have no sleeves at all! Why, your chest is naked!” Adyn seemed perfectly scandalized. “Put on a shirt, you evil mongoose! There are children present! Children, villain, children! SHIRT! NOW! VILLAIN! MONGOOSE!”

One long-sleeved Dudley shirt later…

“You look like an elephant!” Adyn shrieked with laughter.

“Shut up,” Harry growled at her. He knew she was telling the truth; the massive shirt hung far past his knees, sleeves reaching almost as far. Though cut like a sweater and an annoying creamy gray, this garment was nearly large enough to be one of Harry’s school robes. Draco too was snorting into his hand, eyes tearing up with barely contained wicked mirth. “Both of you!” They obviously couldn’t do it.

Furious at this indignity, Harry whirled around and began to descend the stairs. “No! Please wait! You must help Adonis!”

Harry paused. Draco wasn’t chortling anymore. “Help you?” Harry asked quietly, not turning to look at her. He knew his curiosity was getting the better of him.

“Something isn’t right with my mom-goose,” Adyn said quickly. Nearly tripping on Dudley’s oversize shirt, the child scampered around Harry and met his gaze. “Something very muchly wrong. Adyn… Adyn thinks the Niles you know is an imposter!”

Draco jolted off of the wall, gray eyes swelling. “What?” he demanded, in unison with Harry. The small blond fidgeted slightly.

“She’s been acting strangely since she moved to this house,” the black vampire burst out. She spoke very quickly, as if she’d kept this information bottled up far too long. “She forgets the nicknames of her friends. She even called Adyn ‘Annie’ last night. Before she came here, mom-goose told Adyn that she respects Draco and Harry like sons, and she wanted to trick you into getting married. She’d never told me anything about having evil plans for you-”

“So she changed her mind about us and she’s been busy,” Draco said.

(There's more 2 dat, but i've deleted by acciednet)