BLOOD DONOR
Summary: A vampyric Draco Malfoy attacks Harry Potter at Kings Cross before the start of Sixth Year. Now, Harry must escape a deal made with his own personal demon while he prepares to face Voldemort again…but is Draco truly an enemy? HP/DM
Warnings: Slash. Violence, angst. AU after Order of the Phoenix.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
A/N: This chapter has been edited on June 1, 2010.
Harry trudged towards Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, silently cursing the Dursleys. Following his return home after Sirius's death in the Department of Mysteries at the end of Fifth Year, Harry had become sullen, morose.
The Dursleys, of course, had felt his attitude was entirely unacceptable, and had spent the summer devising petty torments for Harry. He would walk downstairs for dinner, and find the Dursleys had already eaten, and had not saved him any food. Therefore, when the Dursleys deposited him at Kings Cross station three hours early and as far away from the Hogwarts Express as possible, Harry was not entirely surprised. Instead, he stowed his trunk and Hedwig's cage onto a trolley with a sigh, and began the long walk to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
Feeling tired, Harry stopped walking, and glanced around the dingy station for a nearby clock. At least it was early still, only nine o'clock in the morning. He could still eat before the train came. Harry grinned slightly as he pulled a wad of bills from his pocket. The Dursleys thought he didn't have any money, but Hermione had exchanged some of his Galleons for Muggle money at the beginning of the summer.
Harry spotted a security guard leaning up against a pillar, and asked for the location of the nearest food stall. He received directions, which took him to a strangely empty portion of Kings Cross station. Harry shrugged, thinking he must have caught the crowd in a lull.
The dark figure standing in the shadows, carefully observing Harry's every move, went unnoticed.
Having finished a far more satisfying breakfast than anything he had received at the Dursleys that summer, Harry once again began the march to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, noticing he only had an hour and fifteen minutes to find the train. Of course, Harry's search for food had taken him far away from any landmark he recognized in the station. Harry sighed. Sodding Dursleys.
He moved down a grimy corridor which pointed to the location of Platform Nine. There was no one else in sight.
Abruptly, someone shoved Harry through one of the doors lining the grey hallway. He landed ungracefully, but with his wand pointed at the door, a curse on his lips.
There was no one there.
Harry stood quickly, looking for his attacker. Before he had even finished a cursory survey of the abandoned office room he was in, a pair of rough hands slammed him up against the crumbling plaster wall, forcing Harry to drop his wand. In a split second blur of action, his attacker pinned Harry's hands on either side of his head, effectively preventing Harry from escaping.
It was only then Harry realized he was staring into the cool grey eyes of Draco Malfoy.
Malfoy smirked at Harry's obvious astonishment, before transferring his hold on Harry's left wrist, so that Malfoy was only using one of his hands to pin both of Harry's hands to the wall. Even then, Harry could not escape Malfoy's grip.
With his free arm, Malfoy pulled out his wand, and pointed it at Harry, who flinched, expecting a curse. Smirking, Malfoy instead flicked his wand at the office door. "Colloportus!" sealed the door with a squelch. A coolly intoned "Muffliato," followed.
"Just making sure no one interferes," Malfoy informed a struggling Harry, who, despite repeated blows, could not break free.
"What the fuck do are you doing, Malfoy?" Harry said angrily, feeling bruises form on his wrists as he fought against Malfoy's hold,
"Still haven't figured it out yet, Potter?" Malfoy sneered derisively. "Can't say I'm surprised, of course. The Mudblood does seem to do all of your thinking for you."
"Don't call her that!" Harry bristled.
Malfoy smirked. "I think you have a bit more to worry about than an accurate description of that disgrace of a witch," he replied, shoving Harry against the wall to illustrate his point. Harry's head hit the wall with a sickening crack, and the world grayed at the edges of his vision.
Harry winced as the pain throbbed through his head, then, eyes flashing defiantly, glared at Malfoy. "What a good little attack dog you are, Malfoy. I'm sure Voldemort is very pleased," he spat.
Unexpectedly, Malfoy smiled at the barb. "I assure you, Potter, my business with you today is entirely my own." As Harry watched in horror, Malfoy's mocking expression transformed into a dangerous approximation of a smile, as the blonde boy's canine teeth elongated, and sharpened into needle-like points.
"Scared, Potter?" the vampire leaned down and whispered, his breath tickling Harry's neck. "You should be."
A/N: Reviews are loved and adored!