a/n: I just read most of this really awful fic and I feel a little sick... To perk myself up, I thought I'd write something actually half way decent. The power to apparate doesn't exist in this story, and it doesn't necessarily take place in England or in the same time period as the HP books. This is post Deathly Hallows and follows the major points of the books. And by the way, I hate smoking but somehow it's in here. grossss...

The Dhampir's Child

One

After throwing his traveling case into a corner of the dusty room, Draco Malfoy yawned and stretched his arms high above his head, arching his back. Sleep was calling to him in waves of heady blackness, almost dizzying in its eagerness. Malfoy's mind was otherwise blank, he didn't care that the room he rented for the next two nights was cobwebby and damp, nor that he would have to share a bed with it's current occupant. The hostels in such rural country very rarely enjoyed the luxury of several small beds to a room, instead employing the use of large ones in which the proprietor could cram as many people as possible. Though Malfoy often avoided these hostels, winter had set in, making setting up camp, alone in the wilderness more than it was worth. Of course very few people traveled through these parts in the winter, so chances were there would only be one or two others to share with. This evening he got lucky, there was only one. Malfoy barely had the presence of mind to be stealthy when climbing in bed with the stranger. But he knew irritating the person by waking him would be hell for his drooping eyes and aching body. Malfoy therefore, carefully slid under the pile of thick bedding, relishing in the warmth and hoping the other renter wasn't a great hairy beast, or a snorer.

Malfoy was journeying to his great uncle's estate. Ages ago now, after excommunicating himself from his parents, by choice, Malfoy had set out on his own. With little money and little experience being on his own he'd canvassed the country, doing odd jobs, having illicit love affairs, and generally trying to forget his past. As a skinny seventeen year old, life had been difficult, but Malfoy was able to charm his way into and out of various situations and skillfully used his magic to his advantage. Now at twenty, Malfoy had written to his wayward Uncle Aquilae, hoping to stay with him for a while. Malfoy didn't fancy being destitute and living on the edge for the rest of his life. He wrote to Aquilae with a mixture of plans in mind. Perhaps he would charm the old man and inherit his fortune, or try something more honest like using his uncle as a conduit to explore lucrative job opportunities through various contacts. Malfoy did not grow up knowing his great uncle. The man was considered as being 'less than' by the rest of Malfoy's immediate family. He had apparently taken a muggle lover in his younger days. Though they never reproduced, the rest of the family never let him live down their near escape from the sullied blood which would have whittled down their 'purity' further than it was. Aquilae fortunately had a keen mind and established himself in wizarding and muggle communities as a hard nosed business man, building his wealth without familial help. Having sloughed off his hate of muggles and accepted pure blood as a fiction, Malfoy felt fully prepared to get to know this odd uncle.

The next morning Malfoy became dimly aware of a soft humming. Blearily, unwilling to awake from his deep slumber, Malfoy shot a disdainful look at the source. He spotted a man, completely nude, humming quietly, and cleansing himself with a wet towel at the sink. The room did not have the modern convenience of shower or bath facilities. Undoubtedly the single shower stall at the end of the hall was in use. Suddenly finding his awakening rather pleasant, Malfoy smirked into the thick blankets covering him and surreptitiously eyed the bare body. The skin was creamy and supple, though at the base of the man's spine there was a ghastly red mark, all scabbed over. It pulled at Malfoy's curiosity, surely it wasn't from... His attention was easily diverted by the man's delightful curves and muscles. The man, who had short brown hair and looked no older than Malfoy himself, at least from behind, turned slightly. Suppressing a pleasurable groan, Malfoy noted the man's generous length was semi-hard, the tip bright red as though it had been kneaded recently. The man hung the towel over a cupboard door and turned around completely, facing the bed. Malfoy had been preparing to shut his eyes and feign sleep in this eventuality but what he saw stunned him, freezing his eyes opens.

Gasping, breathless with shock, Malfoy shot upright, "Potter?"

Harry Potter squinted at the bundled up form, able to make out only a blur of platinum hair. Grabbing his glasses and hurriedly donning them, Harry peered through the lenses only to stumble backwards.

"Malfoy?"

Both surprised, the pair stared at each other bewildered and uncertain. Realizing he was nude, Harry snatched up the wet towel and wrapped it around his waist. Ashamed at his blatant staring, Malfoy swung his legs over the side of the bed, gripping the edge tightly and turned his head away.

"I'll just dress then," Harry mumbled and moved to the side of the bed he'd slept on and began rummaging through a canvas rucksack.

Malfoy held stock still, his heart pounding. He listened intently to the rustle of Harry's clothes as he quickly pulled them on. Dressed, Harry stepped around the bed to the door but stopped just short of it and glanced at Malfoy. Feeling it was only decent to embarrass himself as well, Malfoy stood and began undressing.

Trying to act casual, he asked, "Are you traveling north?"

Harry turned around fully and watched Malfoy pull several layers of knit sweaters and t-shirts off before speaking, not addressing the question. "That's an interesting tattoo."

Harry was referring to the massive design splayed across Malfoy's back. A series of lines and swirling, organic forms curving around his shoulder blades and down to his hips. The design enhanced his muscles and accentuated the curve of bone. Malfoy watched Harry, over his shoulder, who seemed entranced by the thick lines and expansiveness of the tattoo.

"Er... thanks."

Coming out of his reverie, Harry whipped around to the door, "See you downstairs," and he shot off down the landing.

Rolling his silver grey eyes, Malfoy cleaned himself up and muttered something about being an idiot. Downstairs, Malfoy spotted Harry eating and approached. Cheeks burning red with guilt at having so lustfully admired Harry's body, Malfoy cleared his throat as he sat opposite him and attempted to look calm and collected. He gestured at an unhappy looking woman in an apron who shuffled over with a plate of the same slop on Harry's plate.

Inquisitively, Harry asked, "How long were you watching me?"

Malfoy, taken aback, paused to ponder his answer. He decided on the truth, "A minute or two."

Harry nodded at the table, "Where are you going?"

"My great uncle's. Look I'm sorry about earlier, I didn't know it was you."

Harry looked up and laughed quietly, "Heh, it's alright. I am going north actually."

"Oh," Malfoy paused again and considered the oddness of the situation before diving into it head first.

"Gaw, I haven't seen you in years... What have you been doing with yourself?"

Harry hesitated, giving Malfoy an odd look, "I've just been around, you know," he said vaguely.

"Okay... I left home right after, well you know. Haven't been back since."

Harry nodded with raised eyebrows, "Really?"

"Yeah, didn't take a cent, I just left and I've done odd jobs and traveled ever since."

"Tell me about your tattoo."

Malfoy glanced into Harry's emerald eyes, wondering at this odd conversation. He took a break from the food and pulled out a rectangular case. In it were materials for rolling cigarettes. Doing so, he responded.

"I met a man who I fell in love with. He was a powerful wizard who taught me many things. Of course I never told him of my feelings. It was rather unbearable, see, he was older and married, so after a while I decided I had to move on. On the day I left he handed me a book of spells, many of which he had taught me. Inside it there was a spell and a potion that were to be used together. I had never heard of it before, but it was illustrated," Malfoy paused and lit his cigarette, taking it from his lips he offered it to Harry.

Harry shook his head, so Malfoy shrugged and continued, "the illustration was of a man's back covered in intricate designs, just like you saw on my back. The idea was to paint the potion onto a person, following the pattern, while saying the spell. I decided to replicate the design on my own skin to represent my lost love."

"What was the spell?"

The cigarette clasped between his first two fingers and his thumb, Malfoy took a drag, exhaling through his nose, "It's to bind someone to yourself. It could be useful for many purposes. It's as much about the ritual as it is the actual magic. By consenting to lie prone and allowing someone to perform such a lengthy ritual on your actual skin, it's supposed to make a really powerful bond between you and the caster."

Harry nodded, satisfied, but asked one more question, "Do you still love him?"

"No, though he'll always be a part of me."

Harry's lovely pink lips broke into a wide grin and he snickered, "Quite literally."

Malfoy snorted, smiling genuinely. The pair continued eating in silence until Malfoy finally asked the question he'd been burning to know, "What's that mark at the end of your spine?"

Harry blushed at the reference to his earlier unclad state, "I guess I have to tell you since you answered my questions."

"Quite right."

Harry sighed, "I was attacked by a dhampir."

Malfoy recoiled, "Are you infected?" he hissed.

"I'm not sure, I'm traveling to the city to find a doctor who specializes in this sort of thing."

"Merlin, you must be infected, the size of that scab was monstrous, that halfling must have got you bad. I should have realized...What happened? You escaped obviously."

Harry chuckled but with no warmth, "I thought I'd found myself a good fuck for the evening until the damn thing latched on."

Malfoy snorted and a bit of smoke billowed out of his nostrils, he was astonished by Harry's matter of factness.

"Yeah, I know, the bugger," Harry agreed, "But I should have been more careful I suppose. As it turned out I'd wandered into a whole colony, none of which were human friendly either, mind you."

"Shit, most half vampires are human friendly aren't they? What with being the product of a raped human mother and them turning out like the backward little eels they are, they're bound to hate dear old dad and not humans. But imagine finding the unfriendly ones. You sorry sod"

"It's just like the werewolves, some embrace their new brethren, other's hold onto their humanity. But dhampirs aren't all backward, this lot was, for sure, but like you say, most aren't out to get us. And most don't even suffer the afflictions full vampires do, get along just fine those ones."

"How long ago was this?"

"Nearly two weeks now."

"And you still haven't found a doctor?" Malfoy asked alarmed, "Well, let's go, hell, you might start turning this very morning."

"Oh, are you coming with me?"

"I'm going north to the city myself, and I'd rather not run the risk of loosing such a creature upon the earth if you do turn. I'll kill you myself if it comes to that."

Harry rolled his eyes, "Relax, I'm not going to attack anybody," he hoped he was right.

The dhampir possesses the strength and agility of a vampire but none of its weaknesses or malignant spirit. They also are quite mortal unlike the creatures an evil dhampir creates. When a dhampir experiences blood lust and bites a human, the human runs the risk of becoming a new sub-sect of vampire, much like the dhampir. Unnamed and feared, these creatures are known for their violent natures and implacable appetites for human flesh and blood. Unfortunately immortal and bred from hate, these creatures pose a prodigious threat to people. Since they show no outward signs of the vampire and are similarly not affected by their usual weaknesses, these creatures are extremely difficult to detect. Their only distinguishing characteristic is a large, blood red scar at the base of the spin where a dhampir has previously fed. Fortunately dhampirs almost never hunger for human life blood and are instead consumed with the need to hunt vampires, killing them as punishment for their crimes against humanity. Especially the rape of human women, and thus the creation of dhampirs themselves.

Malfoy and Harry paid their bill and left to saddle their respective horses. The city was still several miles away. A large conglomeration of many cultures and ethnicities, it was the largest, most unruly and dangerous city in the country. Harry had heard however that a wise old man lived there, somewhere in the mash of thieves and cutthroats. The old man was known to possess a vast knowledge in the way of healing those attacked by dhampirs. Harry's only hope was to reach him before it was too late. He wasn't a hundred percent certain how long it took before his body gave into the venomous bile coursing through his veins, turning him into a thing of loathing, born of pure hate, and equal to the very embodiment of the antichrist. During his first week, after being attacked, Harry gathered as much information about a cure as possible finally realizing his only hope was to find the wise man from the city. He showed no signs of a change at that point but since he'd begun to travel to the city, too much time, it seemed, had passed. Often when he was very tired at the end of a long day's journey he would watch with horror as a tremor began in his right hand, rippling through his veins so intensely he feared they'd burst. The rippling would course up his arm and in the past few days had even reached as far as his shoulder. Last night, Harry had finally decided to stay away from the hostels for good , not sure how quickly this disease would continue to advance. He did not want to risk killing people or worse turning them into unnamed, disciples of pure evil and hatred. Harry promised himself to perform the killing curse on himself if his body finally gave way. He felt sure he wouldn't survive it the second time round.

"What do you expect this doctor to do?" Malfoy asked critically later in the day.

Harry twisted his mouth thoughtfully, "I'm not sure exactly. Hopefully he can affect a cure. I've had such limited experience with vampires and their spawn. I've heard though, that the healer in the city is very old and very wise and has helped others in my predicament. If he cannot cure me, then you may get the chance to destroy me after all," Harry smiled wryly.

"Pshhttt, let's just get there first. How far d'you reckon it is?"

"At least another day. Listen Malfoy, I don't think I should stay in a hostel tonight, just in case. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to part ways. I'm determined to kill myself if it comes to it, you know, before it's too late."

Malfoy considered the idea, scanning Harry with a piercing gaze. "I believe you would. But who knows how quickly the change happens when it comes. You may simply not be able to."

Harry looked over in protest, somehow, internally, he felt when it happened it would be slow and agonizing, enough time to grasp his wand and end it. But perhaps his mind would turn first and he would no longer want to. Sighing, Harry conceded, "Suit yourself."

Their midday meal consisted of dried fruits and some left over slop from the previous night's hostel. Lunching just of the main path, they built up a fire to ward off the cold and heat up their meager meal.

Drawing his thick scarf over his chin, Malfoy spoke, "The snow is coming."

Harry nodded almost imperceptibly, "Tell me about this great uncle you're going to see."

Malfoy glanced over, above his steaming bowl of food. He told Harry why he was going to see the old man, what he hoped to accomplish there. At the end of the tale, Malfoy shrugged his shoulders, "What will I tell him about you though?"

"I didn't know there was anything to tell."

"Certainly there is," Malfoy arched an eyebrow, " I've told you I'm not leaving you free to roam around in the condition you're in."

"But when we reach the city, I'll probably be kept by the doctor. Hopefully the cure won't take days and days, then I'll be on my way."

"I wouldn't count on it."

Harry knew he was being hopeful but he wasn't sure how to feel about Malfoy's generosity, even if it was only to keep him in sight so he wouldn't be a menace to society. Harry chuckled quietly, imagine that, a Malfoy trying to do good for society. Malfoy, for his part wanted to do just that, the man he had once studied under and loved had told him all about what a dhampir could do to a person should it choose to strike. The creature born of it was a horrible thing, not to be controlled or used in any way. Malfoy knew they must be destroyed at all costs and so preferred to keep an eye on Harry, however unexpectedly the situation had sprung itself on him.

The rest of the day passed with increasing discomfort. The wind was getting colder causing the pair to wind scarves around their throats and wish for an extra pair of socks. As night drew nearer, the sun dropping behind the trees, they realized it was high time to find shelter for the evening. The hostels in these parts were not evenly placed so Harry had inquired where the next one was in relation to a hostel they had stopped at briefly, earlier that afternoon. He had been told it was several hours away on horseback. Surely they must come upon it shortly, Harry hoped. It had been several hours. He urged his horse into a canter, Malfoy did the same, needing no words to tell him the reason. After what seemed like forever, the pair urged their horses into a fully fledged gallop, there was very little light left and it was getting even colder. They needed to find that hostel. They galloped until the horses began to balk, needing to rest. Despite all the distance covered that day, it took another good hour before they began to see a faint light shimmering ahead of them in the now, total darkness.

"Thank god!" Malfoy exhaled, Harry pressed his eyelids together in relief.

They shared a room again, this one was slightly less dirty than the evening before, it being closer to the city and at a cross roads, really a major intersection for those parts. They had made it just in time for the evening meal and were content to eat and warm themselves by the fire. Harry, had been getting tired much more easily since the attack and was nodding in his chair when Malfoy roused him.

"Harry, your hand, it's, well I dunno," startled, Malfoy shook Harry, "Get up, c'mon."

Bundling him out of the room, he hurried up the stairs, Harry dragging along. Once inside, Malfoy bolted the door. Behind him, Harry was pulling off his sweaters, suddenly full of life, bare chested he watched as the rippling shot through his hand and arm, all the way up his neck, going faster and farther than ever before.

Malfoy watched, astonished, "Is this it?" his voice rose several octaves as he reached for his wand.

"No," Harry grimaced, breathing hard, "this has been happening," he grunted, "it's worse... worse than before..."

Harry's heart thumped wildly, his vein's felt like popping out of his skin, like his blood was literally boiling, changing. The side that was rippling glowed pink, but the rest of his body had turned stark white. His lips the only exception, full and throbbing, blood red. Malfoy watched in horror as the rippling spread further, up the side of Harry's face and down his shoulder and chest. Suddenly groaning in agony, a low, desperate rumble, Harry lied back and began to undo his trousers; the rippling was spreading down his leg and he could not bear the feel of such heavy fabric against his heated skin.

"Help me! Oh god it burns!" Harry cried hoarsely.

Malfoy surged forward and pulled Harry's trousers and pants all the way down. Kicking it all off, Harry leapt off the bed, hurling himself into Malfoy, who desperately scrambled away.

"What can I do Harry?" he was terrified and patted his wand in an inner pocket of his coat, making sure it was there if he needed it.

"Cast a silencing charm on me! No one should come near me," Harry ground out the words and doubled over, crouching against a wall.

Of course, at this time of night everyone in the whole damn hostel would be roused by Harry's failed attempts to keep quiet. Malfoy did as he was told. He watched Harry soundlessly writhe in agony on the floor, not daring to take his eyes away. What if this was the last stage of transformation? Or what if Harry needed his help but he could not hear his pleas? Malfoy kept his wand out after placing the charm, keeping it at the ready, fully aware of what might lie ahead.

Harry raged on the floor for a full ten minutes, though it seemed like hours. His skin had suddenly calmed down, his blood back to normal, but he stayed in a crumpled ball. Slowly he unwound his limbs and stood, all color was drained from his skin now. Even his lips, which were white and cracked. Limply Harry stood and gestured to Malfoy that it was over. Malfoy returned his voice and walked forward to help the sickly thing. Harry was breathing hard through his mouth and allowed Malfoy to scoop him up and place him on the bed. He went to pull the covers over Harry, who must be so cold on this winter night, now that his blood had stopped it's boiling. But Harry stopped him.

"It's too hot."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Feel," Harry placed Malfoy's hand on his lower abdomen. Malfoy felt nothing but silken skin and muscle at first, as when he'd carried him, but gradually he noticed an internal white heat, burning beneath the surface. He pulled his hand away as though he'd been burned himself.

"What on earth--?"

"I don't know, it's never been this bad before." Malfoy went around to sit on the foot of the bed. Harry continued, "Tomorrow we must ride as fast as we can to reach the city. Thank god it's winter, it might be delaying the process a little. Ahh!" Suddenly his back arched upwards, he turned over.

The angry red scab was spontaneously bleeding. Malfoy felt a little ill at the sight of such an ugly wound splayed so prominently across such a perfect body.

"Should I bandage it?"

"No," Harry gasped, "Just get some water and a towel. Soak it up and make a cold compress."

Malfoy went to the sink and thoroughly doused a hand towel in cold water from the tap. He also found a dry towel to sop up the blood. He tended to Harry gently, afraid of hurting him further. When the bleeding seemed to stop, he laid the cold, wet hand towel across the scab. Harry hissed with pleasure and lied still. Malfoy climbed onto the bed and sat upright, next to him. He took a previously rolled cigarette from his pocket and lit it. When it had burned away to a stub, Malfoy noticed Harry's breathing had become gentle and regular, he was asleep. Malfoy closed his eyes briefly in relief. He glanced again at Harry, appreciating the sloping, white, curves of his lean body. He lit a new cigarette from the old one. On pretense of checking the scab, Malfoy reached over and brushed the back of his knuckles against Harry's firm arse, lingering for a beat before picking up a corner of the towel to examine the wound beneath. It seemed stable, yet almost like a beast waiting in the shadows, for the right moment to strike. Malfoy withdrew his hand. Placing the cigarette between his lips, Malfoy began unbuckling his belt, then undoing his fly. Confident Harry would not wake, he drew himself out and began to stroke.

a/n: was that coherent at all? hope so.

-griffin-