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: I actually wrote this chapter three months ago, read it again only yesterday, and thought, I must type this! In all seriousness, reading this again, it gave me chills. Anyway, thanks to all who reviewed, and on with the show!
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Harry was trapped, and the knowledge he was trapped, entirely at Draco Malfoy's mercy, scared him more than the fact that Malfoy was a vampire. Malfoy had him pinned to the wall with a inhumane strength, which, Harry now knew, resulted from Malfoy actually being inhuman. Worse still, Malfoy had taken Harry's wand, and had warded the door, so Harry could not rely on a random passerby to save him, or sound the alarm. No one would be rescuing him soon.
Malfoy's breath still ghosted over Harry's neck. The vampire had not leaned away after he had last spoken. "Scared, Potter?" The vampire's threat resonated in Harry's mind.
Harry longed to make a bold declaration to the negative, but a strong survival instinct, warning him he did not want to piss off this Draco Malfoy, prevented him from speaking. Harry's heart pounded frantically as he became more and more aware of the danger he was facing. Irrevocably, Harry knew that his relationship with Malfoy had changed. He and Malfoy were no longer equally matched school rivals, brawling over Quidditch games or petty insults. Instead, Malfoy was a predator, and Harry was his prey.
Minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness, and all Harry could do was stay very still, and try not to provoke Malfoy. When it became evident no reply was forthcoming from Harry, Malfoy leaned back slightly, smirking.
Suddenly, Malfoy began tightening his hold on Harry's wrists, until the other boy winced in pain.
"I must confess, Potter," Malfoy drawled, teeth glinting ominously, "I expected more of a struggle from you. Aren't you supposed to be the Dark Lord's final downfall?" he mocked.
Harry's green eyes glowed with anger. Screw not upsetting Malfoy. "So, has your father disowned you yet?" Harry taunted. "After all, you're not exactly a pureblood anymore."
Harry heard the bones in his wrist grind together, and screamed as an intense pain shot down his arm. His body contorted in an effort to break free from Malfoy, and stop the pain. At last, the hold on his wrist loosened slightly, and Harry collapsed back against the wall. He looked up, panting slightly, to see Malfoy glaring malevolently down at him, the vampire's grey eyes flashing dangerously.
"Watch your mouth, Potter," Malfoy commanded, displaying his fangs slightly, "Or I might decide to make this exceedingly painful for you."
Harry grinned lopsidedly. "Truth hurts, doesn't it, you bastard – " Malfoy's teeth pricked the flesh on Harry's neck in warning, and Harry immediately quieted, sensing danger.
Malfoy's fangs scrapped over Harry's neck. Despite Malfoy's closeness, Harry could not feel the other boy's heartbeat. Harry was hyper-aware of how helpless he was, with his arms still pinned on either side of his head, to prevent what Malfoy was about to do. The realization prompted Harry to struggle desperately, despite the obvious futility of his efforts to put some distance – any distance – between Malfoy's fangs and his neck.
Suddenly, without warning, Malfoy's fangs sunk deep into Harry's neck. The pain, the pain was like ten Cruciatus Curses simultaneously hitting his body. More disturbingly, Harry could feel his blood being sucked out of his body, and hear Malfoy swallowing his blood. Harry screamed wordlessly, his entire body in agony from the assault.
Finally, after what felt like years, but was probably only a few minutes, Malfoy pulled away. The vampire's mouth was smeared red with Harry's blood. Malfoy released Harry's arms, and stepped away. The combination of blood-loss and sheer pain made Harry collapse onto the floor in an inelegant sprawl.
Malfoy removed a handkerchief from his pocket, and aristocratically wiped his mouth clean of Harry's blood, pausing only to smooth out the wrinkles in his crisp white dress shirt. He undid the spells on the door, but paused with his hand on the doorknob. "I find myself in need of a permanent blood donor, Potter," Malfoy spoke conversationally. "If you should say a word about this to anyone, the Weasel and the Mudblood will take your place."
Harry glared up at Malfoy from his position on the floor of derelict office, wincing as he touched his bleeding neck lightly. His voice shook as he replied, "Just leave Ron and Hermione out of this, Malfoy."
"I thought you could be persuaded to see things my way," Malfoy smirked, retrieving Harry's wand from the corner of the room. He examined the wand closely as Harry held his breath, fearing that the vampire would snap it, before Malfoy casually threw the wand in Harry's general direction, where it clattered to the floor. Malfoy strode out of the office without a backwards glance, calling out over his shoulder, "By the way, Potter, its 10:30. Make certain you're not late for the train. I would hate to have to find another donor."
Malfoy's mocking laughter echoed in Harry's ears as the green-eyed boy cautiously stood, leaning heavily on the wall for support. "Until next time?" Harry balked at the thought of experiencing that again, of being at Malfoy's mercy as the Slytherin's fangs sunk into his neck – of knowing Malfoy could easily kill him if he choose… Yet knowing, that if Harry did not comply, Hermione and Ron would suffer the consequences…
Harry sighed heavily, and the slight movement reopened the injuries along his neck, causing another wave of blood to soak into his shirt. Harry slowly gathered his trunk and Hedwig's cage, both of which were miraculously still present outside the office door. He began to walk down the corridor, but stopped after going 50 meters to duck into a men's lavatory.
It was only then, examining his image in the grimy under the florescent bathroom lights that Harry truly realized how much of a mess he was. Dried blood crusted the collar of his shirt, stemming from two puncture wounds in the middle of his neck. Finger-shaped bruises darted around both of his wrists like perverse bracelets, marking where Malfoy held him against the wall. Even the back of his head sported a steadily swelling lump.
Harry himself was swaying slightly, dizzy from blood-loss, and his reflection looked distinctly pale. Hermione and Ron could not see him like this, Harry thought, and turned on the faucet, using the water to wash away the worst of the blood. He pointed his wand at the blood around his neck. Harry could only hope the vast influx of wizards and witches at Kings Cross today would conceal his magical signature, but, regardless, he had to heal these wounds.
"Tergeo," Harry muttered, using his wand to siphon off the remaining blood on his neck and shirt. A quickly cast, "Episkey," healed most of the bruises around his wrist, and closed the wounds on his neck. Unfortunately, Harry noted with a frown, while the puncture wounds themselves were gone, two spots, of a lighter coloration than the rest of his skin, remained. They were small, though, and Harry could always claim they were scars he received while at the Dursleys.
The healing had taken at least ten minutes, Harry estimated. He began walking as quickly as he could manage towards Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, fighting the dizzying effects of blood-loss.
Harry Potter's Sixth Year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had begun. Sometimes, Harry really hated his life.
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