His feet pounded down the dirt path, crunching and crashing through the leaves and brambles as he sped through the dark trees. He tried not to think about what was following him, or rather, what was hunting him. He stopped in the middle of a clearing, gasping for breath. His legs burned, screaming out in protest against the unyielding pace he'd kept.

Fog gathered around him, cutting off any view beyond a few feet. It was cold, he could see each gasping breath float out and disappear before him. It was so quiet, even the birds were silent. He froze, chills running ice cold down his spine as the bushes to his left rustled. A stick broke to his right. Sounds echoed all around him now. The hunter was teasing his prey.

Silence came again in an instance. His breathing echoed in his ears, his heart pounding furiously in his chest. A cold hand grasped his arm. Draco screamed.

Harry Potter woke with a start, his head spinning as his eyes tried to focus in the dark. He reached for his glasses, sliding them in place as he flicked on the bedside lamp. The soft light illuminated the room, chasing away the last lingering fragments of the nightmarish images that had woken him. He sat up, knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep again anyway.

Harry dressed almost silently, sitting down on his bed to lace up his trainers. He glanced out the window. A heavy fog covered the streets below, hiding the world in its midst. Harry shuddered, and pulled a jumper over his head. It was the warmest one he owned, but it would do no good against a chill that came from inside. He turned off the light by his bed and stepped out onto the landing.

He marveled at the silence of the old house as he made his way downstairs. Nearly two hundred years in age and not a single creaking floorboard. It made him uneasy. He stoked up the fire in the kitchen and started a kettle on the stove. His gaze was captured by the window once more, and he stared out at the gloom, mist covered streets.

Harry jumped at the sound of the kettle's sharp whistle. He poured himself a cup of tea and settled into his favorite chair in the sitting room. He waved his wand at the fireplace and the dying coals sprang back into life. He took a drink of his tea, closing his eyes and letting it warm him from the inside. He set down his cup and crossed to the bookshelf, toying with the idea of finally starting that book Hermione had given him last Christmas. He was just scanning the first few pages when a loud knock at the door echoed in from the hall. Harry closed the book with a snap and headed to the front door, wondering vaguely who would be visiting so early.

He wasn't really shocked to see Remus and Tonks on his doorstep. They were frequent visitors. What floored him was the limp form they were supporting between them. He stepped aside quickly, motioning them towards the sitting room.

"What happened?" Harry asked as they laid the unconscious male on the sofa.

"He was attacked. Severus found him in the middle of a forest in northern Scotland," Remus explained. Harry looked down into the pale face of Draco Malfoy. Blood covered the side of the boy's neck, staining his blonde hair a gruesome shade of crimson. Remus met Harry's questioning gaze and nodded. "Vampires."

Draco opened his eyes to a white ceiling. He glanced around him, wondering how he'd gotten from the woods to this room he'd never seen before. Dark curtains covered the windows, blocking all traces of sunlight from the room. Wondering who could stand to live in such depressing settings, Draco began to sit up in hopes of looking around a bit more. As he moved, pain shot through his body. He cried out, falling helplessly back onto the bed.

"Shh, don't try to move," a voice said from beside him. A gentle hand pressed against his chest, keeping him back against the pillows. "Drink this." A bottle was placed against his lips. Without thinking twice, Draco drank deeply—and nearly tossed the lot back up. "I know it's foul," the voice said, "but it will help stop the pain." Draco nodded carefully and drank down the potion without a word.

"Where am I?" he asked after a moment. His voice sounded hoarse and strangely unfamiliar.

"You're in Godric's Hollow," the voice replied. "Don't worry—you're safe here."

Despite the confidence in the man's voice, Draco was doubtful. He wasn't safe at home or even Hogwarts. Why should he believe it would be any different here?

"How long have I been out?"

"Three days. I was beginning to get worried."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Remus Lupin. You might remember me. I was a professor at Hogwarts—"

"The werewolf."

"Yes."

"What happened?"

"I was planning to ask you the same question. Do you remember anything, Draco?" The blonde shook his head.

"I remember running and then…nothing."

Remus nodded. "That's understandable. The mind often blocks traumatic events. You should rest. I'll be back to check on you in a few hours." Draco nodded halfheartedly and let his heavy eyes close as he drifted into a dark, dreamless sleep.

Draco knew before he even opened his eyes that he wasn't alone. He could feel the other presence in the room, could hear their heartbeat. That couldn't be right, could it? The darkness must be playing tricks on him.

"I know you're awake, Malfoy." Potter's voice broke over the silence like a clap of thunder.

Draco suppressed a groan as he opened his eyes. He moved his arm experimentally—the pain was gone. Sighing in relief, he pushed himself up to sit against the headboard. He felt a glass being pushed into his hand.

"Drink this."

"The pain's gone."

"This isn't for the pain." Draco took the cup and raised it to his lips. The scent was familiar, metallic. Draco wrenched the cup away from his mouth and looked down into the crimson liquid he knew too well—blood.

"Potter?" Draco turned a questioning gaze to the brunette beside him.

"You might as well get used to it, Malfoy," Harry said flatly, his eyes cold. "You'll be drinking a lot of this from now on." The blonde's hands began to shake. The glass slipped from his hand and shattered on the wood floor, blood spilling out in a gruesome puddle. Draco registered the violent curse Potter mumbled under his breath before his eyes slipped shut in a dead faint.

"What were you thinking, Harry?" Draco recognized the voice as Remus's. "This is a delicate situation. The news needed to be broken to him slowly."

"What was I supposed to say? 'Oh, by the way, Malfoy, you're a vampire now—down this cup of blood so you don't go mad and slaughter us all?'" Potter hissed. Draco opened his eyes, amazed at how quickly they adjusted to the dim lighting. Potter was glaring at Remus, his arms crossed in a defiant gesture.

"What's going on?" Draco asked, his voice stronger than he was expecting. Both men turned to look at him, Potter's eyes expressing his anger at having Draco under his roof and Remus's filled with sympathy. It was the latter who crossed the room and sat down on the edge of Draco's bed.

"Draco, you said you don't remember anything from the night you were attacked?" he prompted. Draco shook his head.

"Nothing." Remus sighed.

"This may be hard to understand at first. I want you to do your best to comprehend what I'm going to tell you." Draco nodded, impatient. He wasn't a dolt, after all. "You're a vampire, Draco."

Author's Note:

So, there's chapter one. What do you think? Continue or abandon? You should let me know--how about a review? : )

Special thanks to my good mate Nathanial for helping me choose the title. Love you, Nate.