The headstones were dark and cold, hints of fog drifted through the air, as though seeking something. The cloaked figure moved slowly in between the weathered headstones, somehow blending with the fog, fading into the chill early morning air.
A hand suddenly reached out of the cloak, and touched the damp granite in front of him. They didn't seem to be quite of the same world, the hand was so pale and ethereal, against the dark solidity of the headstone. You would almost expect him to pass right through it, but instead his fingers caught against the rough stone, sliding slowly downwards to caress the engraved name.
"I'm sorry. It was all my fault. I killed you." There was no answer, not that he had expected one. A tear slid slowly down his cheek; it was pink, a mixture of fading blood and the various alcohols he had consumed in his attempts to forget what he had done. Not that it had worked. Eventually he had given up, the alcohol just didn't affect him the same way anymore.
Flashback
He staggered and fell against a wall, well aware of the mocking eyes, the gazes of those happy to see a Malfoy brought low, together with those to whom what he had become was absolutely repugnant. There was no acceptance anywhere for him anymore. Even his fortunes –much reduced by the war, it's true- could not gain him any favor. He was dying, he had accepted the fact days ago. He just wished that it wasn't so slow. He hated the painful decline he was experiencing; if he had known of any way he could still off himself, he would have done it. But no, along with his change came almost immortality, so long as he could feed.
A door next to him opened, and he pulled back, already anticipating the scorn and rejection from yet another person. Instead, he heard a soft voice, and he looked up slowly into a pair of startling green eyes. A warm hand gripped his, and guided him inside the building.
"Draco. What has happened to you?" the other asked softly. He knew he should know who it was, but his mind was so clouded. He whimpered softly.
"Starving," he said pathetically. The other nodded sympathetically.
"Would you like me to fix you something?" Draco closed his eyes against the tears that threatened to fall. He didn't know. That's why he was being so nice. Once he found out, he'd act just like the rest of them. "Draco?" He had to tell him anyway, he realized. He was waiting for an answer, and he knew he wouldn't be able to eat any normal food anymore. It made him sick.
"No." He turned his face away so he wouldn't have to see his reaction. "I can't eat anymore. I-" he cut off, wanting to bask in the concern of this person for just a few moments longer. A gentle hand turned his face back so he could see the green eyes.
"You what? C'mon Draco, when have you ever hesitate to say anything to me?" When Draco merely blinked at him, the other man gasped sharply. "You don't recognize me, do you?" Draco shook his head slowly. "What would possess you to just go off with someone you don't recognize?" Draco shrugged.
"You were kind to me. I've have precious little of that lately." He looked down again. "Because of what I am now."
"And what are you?" the other man whispered.
"Who are you?" he countered, stalling, even though he knew he'd tell eventually. He just didn't want to see the disgust on yet another face. His response earned him a grin though. That was something.
"If I tell you who I am, will you tell me what you are?" Draco nodded reluctantly under his expectant regard.
"OK. I'm Harry Potter." Draco gasped. Of all the people to run in to, his arch-nemesis at Hogwarts was definitely not one he'd have expected this person to be, based solely on the treatment he'd received so far. Why was Potter being so nice to him? "Because you look like a beggar. And you didn't start anything, though I'm not sure if that counts anymore, since you didn't know who I was . . ." he trailed off thoughtfully. Far too soon for Draco, though, he turned expectantly to face him once more. "You said you'd tell me . . .?"Draco sighed, but nodded.
"I'm surprised you haven't heard, actually. I was turned a little over a month ago, and the masses all seem to know. I'm a vampire." He huddled back, as though expecting a frightened blow. Instead, Harry only sighed softly.
"I wondered what had happened to you, but I'm not really a fan of the gossip-column, -been in it too much myself, I suppose- which was the only part of the paper that had any information on you, and it's been reporting a different conflicting story every couple of days for the last month, almost exactly." Draco nodded. That made sense.
"Still. Why are you accepting me? No one else has. No matter what they think is up with me, you're the only one who's even taken the time to talk to me."
"Yeah. I saw the way they were acting out there. Pitiful." He shook his head. "Anyway, how can I help you, my starving friend?" Draco gasped. Harry wanted to help him? Knowing that he was a vampire?
"You- you would help me?" Harry gave him a funny look.
"Yeah. That's what I said, isn't it?" Draco stared at him in shock. Nobody wanted to help him, especially those who actually knew that he was a vampire. Most people didn't believe that a vampire could Feed without killing or having to Turn their donor. They actually could, but most didn't have the self-control required. Draco thought he did; after all, he hadn't attacked anyone, though he was starving and people were just waiting for him too. Harry smiled gently.
"When are you going to learn not to compare me to other people?" Draco smiled back, realizing that this was indeed the missing piece he had been seeking. Harry never had been like other people.
"If- if you would let me- I'm so hungry . . .." He looked down, ashamed to be begging; even now his training came to the fore. Harry nodded, and stepped forwards, eyes meeting Draco's calmly. Shaking slightly, Draco stepped forward and raised one hand to Harry's head, gently tilting it to one side, and lowered his lips to his exposed neck.
Harry gasped loudly as his fangs pierced his flesh, and his blood flowed through the young vampire, as red as cherry pie filling through his hollow fangs.
There was a shout behind him, but Draco was riding the rush of life-giving energy, and didn't notice. Harry looked up, but didn't move, even when his 'rescuer' motioned for him to step aside; when he decided to give something, he didn't back down, or back away from what was asked of him. He could have stepped away easily; Draco wasn't holding on to him at all, al he had to do was duck his hand, and he'd be free. He closed his eyes at the rush of dizziness caused by the rapid blood loss.
A blow to the back of the head brought Draco sharply back to the real world, and he spun with a snarl of pain, unaware of the vicious picture he made, blood still dripping from his lips. A baseball bat swung down again, and he fell bonelessly to the floor.
"What do you think you're doing?!" Harry exclaimed when he opened his eyes to see Draco on the floor and a man standing over him with a bloody baseball bat, a pistol trained on him. Before he could say anything else, he pulled the trigger, a flash of silver exploding from the magically enhanced gun.
"You gotta watch those vampires. Good thing I was keepin' an eye on him, else you'd be dead." He gave Draco a final disgusted look and stalked off without another word, before Harry could formulate a response.
He looked down; there was no way that the blond was still alive, even with his extraordinary healing powers granted by the change. He would miss him; though they had never been friends, Draco had been a constant presence in his life since he was 11 years old. The habit of watching out for him had become ingrained during the war, though he had apparently never realized that it was Harry looking over him.
End flashback
"I'm sorry, Draco. It was my fault. I should have been paying more attention. I knew you weren't able to." Somehow, Draco's feeding on him when he died had temporarily changed Harry, but he was slowly shifting back to human now; his bloody tears were the last lingering signs of his experience. Somehow, despite the prejudice against them, Harry didn't want to give up being a vampire. They were so much more than any human could ever hope to be.
"It was my fault, and I'm going to change the attitude that killed you. At least, I'll try my best." A warmish breeze sprung up out of nowhere for a moment, and a voice whispered into his ear.
"Never your fault, Harry. Never your fault." And he was reminded of the old superstition that the gates between the world and the spirit world were open on the equinoxes and solstices.
"Goodbye Draco. I'll make your mark for you." The feeling of a ghostly smile was his lingering impression as he walked resolutely out of the graveyard.
