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.

Favorite Review: Zak's-blood13 – As a female, I'd probably let Malfoy drink my blood anyday.

A/N: Sorry this chapter took awhile…college apps are brutal. Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers!

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Harry Potter walked through the barrier to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters without experiencing any of the marvel or awe which had permeated his previous trips on the Hogwarts Express. Instead, images of crimson blood and malevolent vampires coiled around his thoughts, until Harry believed the panic would choke him…

The visions of blood and mind-numbing fear would not stop, and Harry berated himself for not being quick enough, smart enough, to stop Draco Malfoy before Harry was forced into making that deal…

A solid body slammed into him with a suddenness that brought Harry back an hour prior, to another attack, and he tensed, reaching for his wand before realizing he could not see through a thick wave of bushy brown hair. Harry smiled wanly. "Hello, Hermione."

Hermione Granger beamed up at him, and Harry realized with a start that he was at least a head taller than the diminutive Hermione, who was already talking nonstop about her holiday with her parents in France. "…and the Muggle influences in French magical architecture are fascinating…" Harry returned the hug, grinning, the memories of Malfoy's attack pushed to the back of his mind by the excitement of reuniting with his friends. Harry loosened Hermione's grasp as he spotted Ron's red-head bobbing through the crowd. Ron was at least half a foot taller than anyone in the immediate vicinity.

"Great to see you, mate," Ron greeted as he neared, freckled face grinning broadly. "Sorry Dumbledore wouldn't let you stay at the Burrow this summer, though," Ron frowned. Voldemort's attacks had escalated over the summer holiday, and Dumbledore had decided not to risk moving Harry unless it was absolutely necessary. Harry hadn't been in the best of moods over the summer, anyway.

"Mum was driving us all mad with talk about how the Muggles wouldn't feed you properly," Ron's face lightened in amusement as Mrs. Weasley bustled through the crowd.

"Harry, dear! You're looking too thin, again," Mrs. Weasley examined Harry with the critical eye of one who had raised seven children.

"Thank you for the care packages, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said gratefully, deciding not to mention they were near the only food he had received over the summer, courtesy of the Dursley's spite and Dudley's immense appetite.

Mrs. Weasley shook her head. "It was nothing, dear." She turned to Ron, who was listening to Hermione give a dissertation about influence of Arithmacy on French architecture. Ron looked bemused, and more than a little smitten. Harry grinned. He, along with everyone else in the school, knew Ron and Hermione would get together eventually. There was even a two-year pool going about when the oblivious pair would finally begin dating.

Harry barely noticed his surroundings, too busy laughing with his friends.

Then, Ron jostled Harry in the arm, pointing to somewhere in the crowd. "I was hoping the pointy-faced git would know well enough to stay away from school this year," Ron sneered, "What with his precious daddy on the run from Azkaban."

Harry paled considerably, pivoting slowly to look through the crowd. Standing imperiously in the center of the platform, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, was Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy, sensing Harry's gaze, smirked coolly at Harry, flashing his fangs when no one else was looking. Harry hastened to turn away, tugging Ron and Hermione to the train.

"We should find a compartment, its getting close to 11:00," Harry said quickly, still feeling the triumphant prickle of Malfoy's gaze on his neck. Harry chose to ignore the little voice saying he was not exhibiting very Gryffindor behavior at the moment. Maybe it was time for Harry to embrace his Slytherin side. The fact he had grasped his Slytherin side in a death grip was, Harry assured himself, of little consequence.

Ron and Hermione departed to fulfill their prefect duties, and Harry was left feeling increasingly vulnerable, especially given Malfoy's penchant for picking fights on the Hogwarts Express. To Harry's relief, he spotted Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood wandering aimlessly around the Hogwarts Express, and invited them into his compartment. He then secured the doors with the strongest warding spells he knew. Neville and Luna gave him strange looks, but thankfully did not comment.

The afternoon passed with relative ease, with Luna reading an upside down article in the Quibbler ("How to Track a Crumple-Horned Snorkack: Ten Easy Steps"), and Neville and Harry discussed Lucius Malfoy's escape from Azkaban. Apparently, the guard transporting Lucius Malfoy to Azkaban had been highly susceptible to bribery. Harry surreptitiously rubbed the puncture wound scars Draco had left on his neck every time Neville said "Malfoy."

A while later, Ron and Hermione arrived back at the compartment. Harry subtly renewed the wards after they had entered.

"I swear we those first years get more annoying every year," Ron grumbled, looking distinctly disheveled. Harry peered closer, and saw streaks of pink coloring Ron's hair. Hermione noticed Harry looking, and, sighing, leaned over Ron, and muttered a spell. All the traces of pink disappeared. Ron blushed, the tips of his ears turning red at Hermione's proximity. Hermione shot Ron a curious glance, and Harry grinned at Hermione's obliviousness. The smartest witch at Hogwarts, and she did not realize Ron's painfully obvious crush.

Bang! Bang! A loud hammering shook the door to their compartment. Harry turned to see Malfoy, surrounded by a menacing group of Slytherins, violently hexing the door.

"Why'd you ward the door, Potter?" Malfoy yelled. "Are you scared Dementors are going to attack the train again?" pausing, Malfoy smirked, "Or are you just scared?"

The group of Slytherins laughed hysterically. Harry felt himself growing increasingly angry – angry at Voldemort, angry at Malfoy. "Sod off, Malfoy!" Harry warned loudly.

Malfoy instead took out his wand and began spelling the wards away. "Fine," Harry muttered, standing up. Ron grabbed his wand and rose as well.

Harry dispelled the wards on the compartment, and quickly raised his wand. "Langlock!" Harry yelled at Malfoy. Malfoy's vile diatribe ceased as the blonde boy began sputtering, unable to speak. .

"I am so sick of hearing your shite, Malfoy," Harry fumed, smirking as Malfoy glared at him. Seeing Malfoy incapacitated, the remaining Slytherins angrily took out their wands. Harry abruptly realized he did not have time to cast another spell before the Slytherins hexed him. Pansy Parkinson in particular seemed to have something particularly nasty planned.

Suddenly, from behind Harry, a loud chorus of voices yelled, "Expelliarmus!" Red beams of light shot over Harry's head, and hit the approaching Slytherins. The spell disarmed the Slytherins, and threw them backwards into the wall, where they laid still, stunned by the force of the spell.

Harry turned, and saw the other occupants of his compartment clustered behind him, wands out. Ron smiled at Harry's questioning look. "We thought you could use some help, mate." Harry nodded his thanks, and stepped back into the compartment.

As soon as they were safely inside, Hermione took out her wand. "We're going to get into so much trouble. Honestly, fighting before we even arrive at Hogwarts," Hermione glared at Harry, who backed away before Hermione's fury.

"Although," she continued thoughtfully, "I always have wanted to see Malfoy rendered speechless," Hermione grinned wickedly.

Ron ogled at Hermione's statement. "I think I love you," he professed, then promptly blushed.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," Hermione said coolly, although a smile pulled at her lips. Hermione turned to the door. "Cave Inimicum!" A jet of blue light traced the outline of the door, then disappeared. Hermione turned to see the other occupants of the compartment staring at her in amazement.

"Hermione," Neville whispered in a hushed voice, as though afraid to disturb something sacred, "That warding charm isn't even taught at NEWT level." Everyone again gazed at Hermione in astonishment, who blushed.

"I just didn't want Malfoy bothering us again," she defended.

The rest of the train ride passed in relative peace, although there was a brief moment of hilarity when the Slytherins regained consciousness, and began peering about the corridor, searching for Harry's compartment. Apparently, none of the Slytherins knew the counter-curse to Hermione's spell, so Harry's compartment was entertained by Malfoy performing a complex game of charades, all the while glaring heatedly at his Housemates.

Harry felt a brief tinge of fear about how Malfoy would revenge himself later, but ignored the thought to laugh with his friends at Malfoy's expense. Ron, in particular, was almost hysterical with laughter.

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Draco Malfoy fumed with barely suppressed anger in the Slytherin common room. It had taken two hours before Potter's jinx had worn off, and afterwards, Draco could not even find Potter's compartment when he went to curse Potter to the brink of death.

"Potter is going to pay," Draco swore, his voice thrumming with anger as he strode to the Common Room door. Draco could feel his fangs beginning to lengthen in response to his fury

"You get him, Draco," Vincent Crabbe said coolly. Gregory Goyle nodded his agreement. The rest of Draco's House mates were giving the irate boy a wide berth, fearful of Draco's infamous temper.

Draco slammed the entrance to the Slytherin common room closed as he whirled out of the room, cloak flaring behind him. "Now," Draco murmured softly, the promise of danger coating his voice, "Where are you, Potter?" The vampire strode through the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, tracking his prey through the mark he had placed on Potter's neck earlier that same day.

Potter was going to pay.

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