DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling; I own the ridiculous plot.
PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, 7th year at Hogwarts
CATEGORY: humour/romance
RATING: R
WARNING: SLASH. LANGUAGE.
PAIRING: DM/HP, RW/HG, SS/SB, RL/NT
Summary: He could have been anything. A goblin. An orc. A mountain troll. Hell, he could have been the king of dwarves, for all Harry cared. But NO, of all magical creatures, Draco Malfoy had to be a vampire. 7th year at Hogwarts.
A/N: KYAAAA! THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU! I can't believe that so many people actually read my crappy, crappy first chapter. I promise I'll do my best to improve. A long road indeed.
oOoOo
Everything was quiet at Hogwarts, famous School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The castle stood proudly in the greyish morning light. The Forbidden Forest resembled a dark and silent pool in the distance. The wind was blowing softly in the foliage, making the trees murmur. Some patches of fog were still clinging to the lake. The green grass was covered with a delicate, gently glowing dew.
Everything was at peace when–
"AAAAAAUGH!"
"You asked for it, mate," said a broadly smiling Ron.
"RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY! Come here, you traitor! You're going to regret this!" a very wet Harry Potter yelled, jumping out of his bed.
"But Harry, water never killed anyone. And it was just a tiny bucket–"
"WILL YOU STOP RUNNING, YOU STUPID–"
"On second thought, Hermione once said that water could be dangerous. Told me about those people killed by that big bloke with a weird name, what's it again? Oh right, the 'Titan Ick' – how is that even a name? – but I think the water was much colder than the one I poured on you so–"
"YOU SORRY EXCUSE FOR A FRIEND! BACKSTABBER! COME AND FIGHT LIKE A MAN, YOU COWARD!" the fuming Boy-Who-Lived bellowed, still running after his soon-to-be dead best friend.
"Harry, I had to do something, you were sleeping like the dead. Well, like some dead drooling something, anyway. And I know you need a solid hour before you manage to get up so I just helped you there. Like a real friend would. You should thank me, really."
"REAL FRIEND, MY–"
"My, my, younger generations are made of such ungrateful little punks nowadays," Ron interrupted before anything too shocking could be said.
Dean, Seamus and Neville were distractedly watching the mad race around their dorm while preparing for class.
"Ten to one Harry'll have his revenge," Seamus declared, solemn.
"No way, he's never going to catch Ron, he's too small," Dean argued logically.
"I didn't say he was actually going to catch him," Seamus pointed out with a grin.
"Shouldn't we tell them that they have less than 20 minutes before class starts?" asked Neville with a worried expression.
"Nah, they'll be fine," Dean said. "They know they have to stop to get their schedules."
While skilfully keeping away from his shorter best friend's flailing fists, blocking him with a mere hand on the head, Ron whined: "C'mon guys, I'm hungry!"
Without further warning, he let go and waltzed out of the room.
"Do you think Harry's gonna be OK?" Neville asked, casting a worried glance back when they heard a loud crash followed by a variety of muffled curses.
"It's all right, Neville. You're such a mother hen," the redhead teased. "What I said's true, Harry wouldn't wake up on the very first day of school. I bet he starts with Potions anyway so nobody's going to notice if he's pissed because of meand not Snape," Ron concluded smugly. "Do you think there'll be pancakes today?" he added with hopeful, starry eyes, all thoughts of his soaked friend already gone.
oOoOo
Harry Potter was not a happy camper. After all he had been through – the Dursleys, the multiple attempts on his life, his being molested for a bit of blood by the darkest sorcerer of all times, the final battle at the end of his sixth year – the Boy-Who-Lived had thought that he could at least enjoy his first quiet night's sleep but noooo, now that his worst enemy was washing Satan's socks in Hell, his very best friend just had to go and viciously attack him during his sleep.
He knew he wasn't usually that annoyed when woken up by someone, though; it had something to do with his dream, about...
...what had he been dreaming about, already? Something about a soft-looking silver pool that seemed to glow with powerful magic. He had felt so happy and at peace with the mere presence of that thing, whatever it was. Harry was sure the dream had some sort of meaning. His subconscious had been trying to tell him something. Hadn't he felt like something important was missing from his life, lately? Someone?
He started considering the last girl he thought had mattered to him–
Cho.
Urgh.
Suddenly, he wasn't so sure his dream had anything to do with his love life anymore. He did certainly not need any more wet, awkward kisses from a girl who was obviously obsessed with his bloody reputation.
So what–
Harry looked at his watch and froze.
"Oh shit, I'mlateI'mlateI'mlate!"
With his rotten luck, he would start with Potions and a very very grumpy Snape.
'I'm so dead', was the single thought going through his otherwise empty mind as he dashed into the bathroom to wash his face. He did not even bother with the lost battle against his hair. To think he had grown them a bit in the hope it would become less messy.
He looked at his reflection in the mirror and grimaced at the sight of the long black locks framing his face. His eyes were as green as ever, even if they seemed a bit dull at the moment.
Breaking the staring contest with his pale reflection, he splashed some water on his face – not that he hadn't had enough, already – and ran down the stairs of the Gryffindor common room, almost missing a few steps; crashing down the bloody stairs was not an appealing option right before Potions.
Why had he decided to take the stupid class, anyway? Oh right, because the old coot had practically forced him to, arguing that since Harry did not know yet what he wanted to do after school, he'd better take Potions because he couldn't begin to imagine how useful the subject was, how full of consequences such a choice was at this time of his life and by the way, would he like a lemon drop?
Harry ground his teeth. He would not become an auror as Dumbledork wanted, thank you very much. It had been the very job that had killed his parents. Plus, the Boy-Who-Had-Done-His-Job thought just that, so he deemed it fair to get some well-earned freedom. To hell with anybody else's expectations.
Harry finally reached the huge doors of the Great Hall and slammed them open. He then swooped down on poor Hermione like Goyle on a chocolate muffin.
"Harry, what were you–"
"NOTIMEI'mlateI'mlate, Hermione save me pretty please with lots of marshmallows on top!"
By the time the Head girl managed to successfully decipher the weird language Harry had been speaking, her best friend had already grabbed the schedule she'd handed out to him and disappeared through the doors.
"You're welcome, Harry" she said anyway, the corner of her lips twitching. How did he manage to get in trouble on the very first day of school? Deciding she'd know before the end of the day, she headed for the Headmaster's office, where she was supposed to have a meeting of half an hour with the other prefects.
She had not been surprised to learn that Malfoy was Head boy. For all the horrible things the insufferable blonde was, she had to acknowledge that he was also one hell of a rival in getting the best grades. To the whole school's surprise, he had been helping Snape to make potions during the war after telling Voldemort where exactly he should shove his offer to join him. Hermione had also noticed the way Malfoy had stopped taunting Harry, insulting Ron or calling her a Mudblood. He was still his arrogant, proud Malfoyish self, but was much more discreet about it than he used to be.
Hermione knew though that it was not due to his father's new condition. The blonde heir had made it clear that he was pleased with his mother's way of 'dealing' with her ex-husband. The young aristocrat he was had standards, after all.
Yes, the Head girl was most curious to see how Malfoy would behave this year.
oOoOo
Harry made it just in time to the familiar and much hated door in the Dungeons. He quickly pushed it open and went in, panting heavily, and walked to the back where a single table was left empty. He thanked whoever was responsible for this small mercy, and didn't look at the frowning faces of the other students who happened to be all from Slytherin.
He really should go to the Library one day, to try and find out which deity he had so deeply offended. He didn't have time to consider this idea any longer though, because Snape was currently storming into the room.
Billowing black robes; check.
Bad mood; check.
Scowling face; check.
Final lethal touch: greasy hair; check.
Repulsive kit under control.
"You have supposedly reached the level of knowledge required to follow this course of Advanced Potions." Snape started as the temperature seemed to drop in the room with his words.
"Some of you may have benefited from a certain help to get here, but they might as well sit down on their hope to ever understand the subtle art of brewing potions," Snape sneered, eyes never leaving a certain Gryffindor.
Harry mentally rolled his eyes. Really. Somebody ought to tell the greasy git that people are not supposed to hold a grudge against a person's progeny. Get over it, you slime ball! Harry mentally screamed.
Unaware of his student's musings, the Potions Master turned to the board and, with a lazy wave of his wand, made the instructions to brew Veritaserum appear.
"I don't expect any of you to realize how difficult and delicate the preparation of Veritaserum is. This will be considered as a test; those who fail to brew the potion will have to drop this course," he continued with a decidedly wicked gleam in his eyes.
"You have an hour and a half so you'd better move," he added gleefully.
Harry sighed deeply and dragged his feet to the storeroom where he knew an army of slimy dead things awaited him. He also knew he was a dead man if he didn't get the bloody potion right. He didn't like Snape's little plan to get him kicked out of class. He would have to get the stupid potion right just to spite the overgrown bat.
He suddenly realized that Hermione was supposed to be the only other Gryffindor taking this course as well; but then he also remembered something about a meeting for prefects and the like.
Please, whatever god is listening, let Hermione get here before the end of the class. I really need someone to help me with this...
Unbeknownst to Harry, the classroom door opened. Draco Malfoy strode in gracefully, a bored look on his aristocratic features. He went straight to Snape's desk to give his professor the required note about the meeting.
Looking around for a free desk, he saw the red and gold scarf on a chair and decided now would be as good a time as any to learn more about the strange comment his black-haired Nemesis had spat at him the day before. A small, satisfied smirk appeared on his face. It had been far too long since he'd last teased his favourite enemy. It wouldn't do to let the Gryffindork forget about him. Nobody forgot a Malfoy. Especially not the Savior of the Light.
Seeing his most brilliant student heading for what he knew was a Gryffindor-contaminated table, Snape panicked. This was not supposed to happen! His plan to get rid of the annoying Brat-Who-Lived was perfect! What was his godson thinking? He was too smart not to have known who was at that desk!
"Mr. Malfoy? I doubt you would want to waste your knowledge and time on our resident hero. May I suggest you–"
"It's all right, professor, working with Potter will be fine," Draco interrupted, not even bothering to look at him, missing the look of sheer horror on his godfather's face.
While Snape was trying to decide whether he should check his godson for an evil potion or a very potent curse, Harry emerged from the storeroom with an armful of disturbing, smelly ingredients. He looked at his table and almost dropped everything out of shock. What the hell was Malfoy doing there?
Turning his furious gaze to Snape, he saw that the man looked just as speechless, while the rest of the Slytherins' stares fell on him, probably expecting some kind of confession about the spell he had used on Malfoy.
"Hello, Potter. Long time no see. I won't ask about your vacation, I don't care. How about you stop gaping like a goldfish now?" the blonde said with a knowing smirk. Harry shut his mouth with an audible 'click'.
"Now get your arse here, Veritaserum takes quite some time to ready."
Harry gathered his scattered wits which had traitorously packed and gone for a trip, waving in the distance, at the sight of the gorg–annoying blonde sitting there.
"What are you doing here, you wanker!" he fumed, not quite daring to point a finger at him for fear that he would make mashed worms rain all over the floor.
"Language, Potter. Since your sorry excuse for a brain seems to have deserted your messy head, and because I'm very patient, I shall remind you this one time. I happen to have succeeded in entering this course and as I fully intend to pass the NEWTs, I would like you to bring those lovely ingredients to our table in order for us to finally get started," Draco said slowly, as if talking to a very small and very retarded child.
"Shut up, I know why you're here, what I want to know is why you're here!" Harry retorted, not moving from his spot in the middle of the way.
"Mr. Potter, if I were you, I would just shut my mouth and thank Mr. Malfoy for agreeing to work with someone with such a heavy brain condition. 10 points from Gryffindor for making a scene in my class and disturbing your fellow students," Snape finally cut in with a dangerous edge to his voice.
Harry refrained from snorting at the mention of his 'fellow students'. The Slytherins were enjoying the show so much that they wouldn't have noticed if Dumbledore himself had waltzed into the room, wearing a pink ballet skirt and doing a series of entrechats.
The Gryffindor sat down with a huff. He had almost forgotten how much Malfoy liked to torture him in public, especially in Potions.
At that very moment, someone knocked and Hermione promptly came in, abruptly stopping at the strange sight that met her eyes.
Snape looked ready to pull all of his greasy hair out; the Slytherins were hesitating between smirking and looking at Malfoy as if he'd grown a horn; and Harry was scowling next to what seemed like a very smug Malfoy. What the heck is going on? Hermione's braincells screamed.
"Miss Granger, I can see the tiny wheels working themselves to exhaustion in that bottomless pit that is your mind and so, I kindly suggest that you cease trying to grasp the present situation. 10 points from Gryffindor for arriving after Mr. Malfoy here," he concluded, desperate to find something – anything – to vent on.
Hermione kept a cautious silence, thinking to herself that she was the one earning all the points, anyway.
She walked past the tables until she reached the one behind Harry, where she sat down next to a still bewildered Theodore Nott.
"What are you waiting for, you dunderheads? Back to work!" snapped a very angry – and slighty sulking – Potions Master.
Everybody came out of their daze at once and hurriedly began to chop, grind, pour and stir.
Harry was silently fuming. Why were the gods so mad at him? They did answer your prayers, a nasty voice said in his head. Hermione has been on time and there is someone here to help you, isn't there?
Argh! To hell with this! Harry mentally kicked the stupid voice. He would not look at Malfoy, who had once again utterly humiliated him in front of the whole class.
"Aw, come on, Potter, don't pout like a three-year-old, though I must say, it rather suits you," the vampire said.
"I'm not pouting, you freak!" Harry exclaimed.
"You've just proved the second part of the statement, O Chosen One."
"Why you–"
"I thought we had already established the reason for my presence here," Draco sighed.
And so the minutes went by with Draco keeping up to his reputation of being the only person capable of pissing Harry off in less than 10 seconds.
However, Harry was feeling himself getting gradually weaker. Why was his head spinning now? Oh right, he hadn't eaten anything last night before neatly destroying every breakable item on the Gryffindors' table, and he had been too late to eat anything this morning. When was the last time the Dursleys had let him have dinner? Or any other meal for that matter. It seemed like such a long time ago...
Draco realized something was amiss when he saw Harry wobble next to the cauldron.
"Hey, Potter! What–"
Before he had time to finish his sentence, Harry was already falling backwards. Who has turned the bloody lights off? was the Gryffindor's last thought before he tumbled into a black void.
oOoOo
Harry opened his eyes to a great white blur. It was a nice change after the black void. What had he done this time to earn a special trip to the infirmary? His mind was still a little foggy. He might as well start slowly, and with the usual causes. Quidditch? No, he had told the team himself that they wouldn't start training before two weeks. And since he had personally taken care of Moldievort... Vordimlot... whatever his ridiculous name had been, his mind slurred, this was not it.
So what had he–
"Oh shit" he said for the second time that day. Fainting out of hunger right in front of Malfoy, of all things. He could already see the Daily Prophet's headlines: 'THE-BOY-WHO-LIVED-TO-STARVE-TO-DEATH!'
"Why me?"(1) he whined aloud.
Madam Pomfrey heard Harry talk to himself and was now slightly worried he had hit his head somewhere despite what the Malfoy heir had explained.
"Mr. Potter? Are you all right? Do you feel any pain? I had to feed you a Nourishing potion. What were you thinking? You have to eat reasonably, you are a growing–" The audible grunt and muttered words coming from the bed sounded suspiciously like 'dwarf' and 'laughing stock.' The patient nurse continued nonetheless, "–teenager. Besides you can't afford to miss you first day of school. You should thank Mr. Malfoy for, um, bringing you here," she finished looking anywhere but in his direction.
"Malfoy brought me here?" he asked incredulously. Then he realized there was something else. He had this foreboding feeling...
"What do you mean, 'bringing' me here?" he frowned.
"Erm–yes. Quite literally. Um–bridal style," she specified, blushing slightly and still admiring the beautiful chair next to his bed.
"Whaaaaa– but he– we– I mean I–" he stuttered miserably. "Why was he the one to– why didn't he use the Mobilicorpus charm?" he finally managed.
"I have no idea. You will have to ask him next time you see hi–" She stopped, turning scarlet.
There was a suspiciously long pause.
"Nooonononono, that's not what you think it is, we're–" he tried, turning an interesting shade of red as well.
"Whatever, Mr. Potter," she said, still not quite meeting his eyes. "I think you are now healthy enough to go back to class." She shooed him out of the infirmary and he was left in front of the closed door, face still aflame.
"Is this a fucking conspiracy or what?" he said, stomping his foot for good measure. He sighed. He'd better stop talking to himself aloud, Madam Pomfrey had seemed worried enough already. Hell, he was worried about himself right now. Were they trying to make him die from embarrassment?
Sighing again, he headed for Charms, silently praying for this to be the last strange happening of the day.
End of chapter 2
(1) Read the wonderful fic by Shades "Opacre" and its sequel "Qye" (on hiatus, though...T-T)
AUTHOR'S RAMBLING: Hello, everyone! Thank you for reading this chapter. Not much happening in there, I know, but I have to set some things first in order for the main events to be interesting.
