A Different Kind of Hero- By Ceilidh Clemens, Characters © JKR

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This chapter wasn't originally going to be this long, but I got caught up summarizing the events of Different Kind of Pureblood (and something you missed between the prologue and this chapter).


Chapter 2- Life Goes On

All that gives humans power over animals is the lack of instincts.

All that gives vampires power over humans is the lack of a heartbeat.

Humans can stop themselves from having sex. They can stop eating and drinking if they so please; it may kill them in the end, but "instincts" will never force a man to get a glass of water and stick a plate in the microwave. It is this control over their actions; this ability to NOT fly South during the winter and NOT swim upstream, this power to ignore what their bodies tell them, that has allowed humanity to dominate the planet.

One can argue that the "hunting instincts" passed from sire to childe are unstoppable.

But I'm just another vampire that can control his thirst for blood.

"Unless it's mine," Harry scolded Draco, having heard these thoughts with crystal clarity from the other side of the room. It was a part of their bond, which had only strengthened when Draco finally killed him. "I've got so many hickeys that can be traced back to you, I almost look like I've got daemon-chicken pox. You're a bloody sadist. You know that, right?" Draco smirked and strode to the side of the pearly tub from the doorway. The blond wasn't the least bit perturbed by Harry's glare. The Gryffindor give his wand one last, futile flick at the recent bite just above his heart. It wouldn't heal; none of Draco's bites ever healed completely.

"It it my fault that you're still tasty?" Draco chuckled, perching himself beside the edge of the tub, resisting the powerful urge to grab his beau from behind and give him yet another patented Malfoy hickey. "Besides, you enjoy it. You're a blood masochist. You know that, right?" Harry gave him a baleful look, involuntary pouting out his lips as his green eyes flickered. Draco was enchanted. "You're too cute sometimes. Girly, even."

The once-bespectacled Boy-Who-Lived set his wand beside the great bath, green eyes becoming distant as he thought.

Draco loved to watch Harry's bottle-green eyes. They had always been that color, but before Draco became a vampire, he never bothered to notice. The first time he saw Harry's eyes through the eyes of a vampire, he decided those were the most beautiful eyes on Earth. Draco still didn't care that Harry hadn't recognized him at first. Hell, Harry hadn't even realized he was being bitten by a vampire!

Giving in to a minute urge, Draco ran his white fingers through his mate's dripping black hair, smiling as he recalled what a shock the truth had been for him. They had kissed only once before Harry knew the truth, but Draco knew he loved Harry the moment the Gryffindor accepted him for all that he truly was. Harry didn't seem to notice Draco's touch. His eyes fell shut, his expression fell blank, and he relaxed against the side of the ivory bathtub; Draco was miffed at the very idea that he could be ignored. "Harry?" Draco whispered. He received no answer.

A small ripple in the tub water made the smaller vampire's hair flow back, thereby giving Draco easy access to Harry's shoulders, which Draco had found to be one of the wizard's sensitive areas. Seizing the opportunity by the horns, Draco snaked his arms around his brunette boyfriend, pulled him close, and dragged his cold tongue across Harry's milky skin.

"S-s-stop that!" Harry squeaked, shaking himself free from the blonde's grip. Draco laughed to see Harry trembling; if Harry were still alive, his face would have been bright red. "Do you even know why people take baths?"

"To get clean?" Draco drawled, cocking an eyebrow.

"Exactly! I'm in here to get clean, not dirty! And I'm trying to relax, not excite myself!" Draco smirked and stood, amused by Harry's flustered behavior and the fact that his guest felt the need to hide amongst the bubbles.

"I think I can do all the exciting for you," Draco purred. He knew perfectly well that Harry was having an awkward time as far as sexuality was concerned; the boy in the bath was still shy of the very idea of sex with anyone, let lone a male. Despite Draco's best efforts, Harry had never consented to go past kissing, cuddling and the occasional intimate bite.

The abashed young man bit his lip, drawing a tiny drop of blood with his sharp teeth as he cautiously kept out of Draco's reach. "Is there any particular reason you're even in here?" Harry whispered, trying to change the subject.

"Now that you mention it, yes," Draco sighed, resting his chin on the glittery edge of the tub basin. It wasn't a pleasant subject, but he had to bring it up… "Do you regret it?"

Harry's eyes darkened. He knew perfectly well what Draco meant.

"Regret what?" he asked anyway.

"The things we did last night." No longer hot and bothered but simply distressed, Harry glared. Draco pressed on. "Meeting Adyn…? Agreeing to help the little leech? Not Obliviating that old nurse? Killing that homeless boy for dessert on our way home? Do you regret these things? You've been distant since then." Harry's lip twitched into a small frown.

"I wish I knew how to Obliviate," he told Draco quietly. "It would have been a great favor to that woman if she'd only forgotten what she'd seen. But, hey, we couldn't have done the memory charm, right? We couldn't have helped that."

"And agreeing to help Adyn find Niles…?" Harry made a strange noise; it was both a growl at the back of his throat and a Parseltongue obscenity from the tip of his tongue. It was just one of the small things that made Draco slightly unnerved about the Gryffindor; ever since he learned that Harry's knowledge of Parseltongue was unnatural even by Parselmouth terms, he got a fleeting image of Harry as Lord Voldemort whenever a hiss left those lips.

That moment was gone as soon as it began. "Well, we all want to find Niles, don't we?" Harry snapped. "Sure, maybe we're 'helping the enemy,' but I don't see the point in working alone. We might need her help." He took a deep breath to relax. Not that he needed the oxygen; it was merely a habitual action to calm himself. "In fact, I'm certain that we'll need her help before the end."

Draco wanted to ask what 'end' Harry was talking about, but he thought better of it.

"But what about the boy?"

Harry sank several inches in the water. "He was sick, starved, and homeless. He would have died anyway." There was an edge in his voice that challenged Draco to disagree. The blond couldn't. Certainly, the boy they killed wouldn't have lasted another two days, but it was the first time either of them had killed someone- and it had been for food. That nagging part of them that was still human had already began to come up with excuses for their actions, a mere seven hours later.

"I just wish that the Ministry would send a bit more sustenance," Draco sighed, sliding out of his silky black pajama top. Harry shivered, his eyes widening in appreciation for a moment before he politely looked away. "They barely send enough to keep one vampire healthy, and you're stuck with hardly anything. It's their own damn problem if we have to start killing to survive."

"But they don't know I'm here," Harry protested. Draco was slightly annoyed by his companion's desire to defending the Wizarding populace. "They don't think there's a second vamp here."

"So go out of hiding!" Draco spat. "I'm not going to live off half a blood ration every other day because you don't want to pay for your crimes against humanity!" Harry looked decidedly uncomfortable. It took Draco a moment to realize that the Parselmouth was nervously holding his right forearm, which bore the same Dark Mark the Death Eaters wore; they both knew these marks had nothing to do with Voldemort, but the Ministry would never understand. The fact that their marks were on the right arms instead of the left would mean nothing to a judge, even if Voldemort would sooner go shopping in tutu than brand a wizard's right arm. These marks were from love.

"But Draco, my arm…" Harry whispered, clammy wet fingers tightening into claws against his own pale flesh. Draco winced as Harry's sharp nail pierced this skin. Lost in his agitation, Harry didn't seem to notice. "I can't just walk into the Ministry Office to announce I've been casting Unforgivables, inventing hybrid curses, and killing children! And then showing them the Dark Mark? They'd kill me on spot!"

"They would," Draco conceded, glowering pointlessly at the floor. After all, he'd been chased from the Ministry by hex-flinging Aurors last time he'd simply stopped in for directions. Paranoid bastards.

"So, what exactly am I supposed to do?" Harry demanded. "I know you don't like starving- hell, I can't say I enjoy it either- but if you can just hang on until we've slain Niles and turned human again, the Dark Marks should vanish. We can go and turn ourselves in then."

"Unless, of course, you decide by that time you really would like to be become another Dark Lord…" Draco laughed as Harry attempted to splash his pretty clothes with bathwater. He missed by several feet; the pale ex-pureblood was far faster than the flying water. Draco couldn't help it but laugh at the small victory. "Have mercy, Master!" Draco pretended to plead.

Harry's features suddenly became very wicked indeed. "If it's a Master you want so badly," Harry hissed mischievously, "Than come to my side, servant." He lurched from the tub to grasp Draco's thin wrist. Realizing he was about to be dragged into the tub with his pajama bottoms still on, Draco began to struggle, but the fledgling Harry was stronger and heavier than him.

"No!" the blond yelped as he was dragged bodily into the tub. Harry laughed as Draco sprang from the water, coughing and sputtering. His once-handsome silk pajamas clung to him like cling-wrap. "My beautiful clothes!" he wailed. Harry fell against the side of the tub, trying in vain to suppress his laughter. Draco angrily began to remove the drenched pants. "Damn it, Harry! These things are dry clean only!"

Harry had clearly acquired a bad sense of humor in the short time he'd been so intimately acquainted with Draco, for his laughter only became more malicious. "Does this mean your pants are shrinking?" he cackled.

"Yes!" Draco squeaked, tugging frantically at his buttons. "They are! And quickly!" Indeed, Harry could see the waistband contracting on the blond, who conceded defeat and ripped the things clean off before they could constrict him any further.

No longer laughing, Harry had but a moment to gape at Draco's nude form before the blond hopped into a particularly bubbly part of the massive ivory tub. "Now I'm going to have to buy a new pair," Draco pouted.

"Sorry," Harry muttered, though his dim eyes made it clear that he wasn't.

"Wanker," Draco growled. "Those pajamas cost two hundred galleons."

"What a rip-off!" Harry exclaimed. "Why spend so much money on clothes that look better on the floor?" Draco allowed himself to smirk.

"Ah, but it's usually worth the gold when somebody else removes them for you," the blond drawled. He rather enjoyed the way Harry's sweat had a slightly red hue; that and the fact that he was naked in a hot tub gave Draco a very pleasing assortment of perverse mental images. "What are you thinking about?" Draco asked casually.

"Well," Harry reflected, turning away from his blond beau. Draco tried to keep his gaze off the curve of Harry's neck. "First and foremost, I'm thinking about breakfast." Draco's smirk wavered slightly. Harry was clearly not in the mood. I'll just have to mend that… "Than again," the Gryffindor mused, sweeping Draco's soggy form with his brilliant green eyes. "Why go down there for a cold bottle when I can stay here and have a hot vampire?"

That certainly brought a smile to Draco's lips… before Harry set about crushing them with his own.


Sorry about the lame chapter ending. Things will get more interesting when they get out of that tub!