Inter Sol Solis et Luna
By Wihstrum
Chapter Three: The Truth Unfolded
It was late afternoon by the time Draco finally returned home from the funeral and the formalities afterwards. He had composed himself enough to hold his mask of sophisticated aloofness, but his trembling hands were a dead give-away. The tremor was so bad that he couldn't even manage to unbuckle the clasp of his black dress-robes. The experience had grated his emotions so deeply that he felt light in his head. He was very ashamed of this weak reaction to something so unimportant, and it weighted on his mind as well as everything else.
Honestly, even if it had been so that Potter had died, it shouldn't get to him. It was Potter for Merlin's sake; annoying, persistent, pathetic little Potter; his adversary.
The whole incident with that ruddy owl for one was Potter's fault; he didn't doubt that. Tomorrow the front page of the Daily Prophet would be littered with all kind of rubbish speculating about the mysterious disappearance of the white owl.
He slowly made his way up a flight of stairs, still picking irritably at the clasp of his robes; the tremor in his fingers still not subsided. He placated himself by saying that feeling another person die in your arms was bound to have some sort of emotional impact. But why was it always Potter that made him feel so strongly? How was it that taunting him gave Draco such a rush?
Calming his erratic breathing and slowing his pace, Draco moved towards the wide-open door from which two voices erupted. He tilted his head so he could look around the corner.
This was a particular snippet of a conversation he would always remember:
"I don't owe you anything!" Harry screamed at the top of his lungs, though his throat started to go raw. It had been like this for over more of an hour now. "You did all of this for your own selfish and pathetic little game of revenge." His tone hitched and Hedwig, sitting on his right shoulder, had to spread her wings in order to maintain balance due to his erratic movements, "And I don't want a part in it!"
Now that he shouting, he couldn't stop anymore. The pain, the confusion, the doubt, the feeling of failure, the terrible loneliness, and the emptiness, all of it came out. Six years of inner turmoil and scarred childhood. And all of it was directed solely to Lucius. It had escalated from the moment Lucius had made it clear that he blamed Harry for incident with Hedwig. Though they both know it was an emotional reaction to the shock of barely escaping a discovery that would have been devastating, Harry couldn't care to bring himself to reason.
"You condemned me to this disgusting half-life!" Harry spat bitterly, "YOU DID NOT HAVE THE RIGHT!"
At these words, the elder vampire snapped out of his initial shock, his eyes tinting a wicked silver of all consuming rage. "How dare you speak to me like that?" he said with a dangerously silent tone, and every time his pale lips parted, slightly lengthened fangs were bared, "You must respect me, Liber! I am your Sire!"
"Respect you?" Harry laughed derisively, "You who were the source of the corruption of an eleven year old girl! It nearly killed her! I was there! Riddle was sucking her empty while she simply laid there, dying while I, a twelve year old boy, tried to fight a Basilisk with nothing but the Sword of Godric Gryffindor!"
The innocent green of his eyes drained away at a terrifying rate, and soon they were fiery silver, alight with surreal anger coming from both his human and vampire nature. "I should respect you even though you tortured those muggles –people who were not even given the chance to defend themselves? Respect you while you just stood there, laughing at me, just laughing when Cedric dropped dead to the ground?"
By now his fangs had descended fully, and the mere sight of it was frightening as well as riveting. His voice grew low and dangerously resonant; "Respect you though you hunted both my friends and I at the Department of Mysteries? Played with us, and enjoyed it? Enjoyed it when Sirius fell through the veil, enjoyed it when you finally managed to severe the link with the only person I had left that was more like family to me than anyone could even understand?"
With a snarl he whirled around and wrapped his arms securely around himself, leaving a deathly silence behind him. The sad, soft words that came next were spoken with such emotion that they would echo within that room for years to come. "Enjoyed it when I dumbly struck a bargain with Voldemort? Tough luck for you Draco had a backbone, huh? He did not deserve this. I did not deserve this. And you most of all, are a fool to ask respect."
He turned once more, his eyes strangely empty all of a sudden, "You do not deserve it."
Suddenly, with deliberate and surprisingly controlled movements, he began discarding garment after garment, from his shoes, to his shirt, finally letting the dark slacks fall to the ground. Standing in nothing but a pair of boxers, he gathered the clothing in his arms. Then Harry headed towards the door, only pausing once to thrust the bundle in a shocked Lucius's arms, saying evenly, "I want nothing of you."
And then he left.
Folding his arms more tightly around his legs, the cold of the dawning night chilling his naked skin, Harry gazed blankly out over the lake. He absently registered the feeling of his fangs pushing against his lips, the anger boiling within his chest preventing him from drawing them back. Peering through the locks of ebony, Harry ran the tip of his tongue experimentally over the odd thin ridges now making up a part of his teeth.
He watched how Hedwig floated low over the surface of the lake like a small shadow, her beak snapping closed around unfortunate insects buzzing above the water. Shifting his head so his forehead was pressed against his knees, seemingly trying to withdraw into himself completely, Harry Potter wished for the first time in his life that he could be truly gone and not stuck in this terrible half-life. Truly gone and not trapped in this cursed prison of flesh artificially living on pure magic. Not bound to this cold man named Lucius Malfoy. Not a vampire.
Fireflies hovered above the tips of the long grass surrounding him like golden little sparks. Had he not been so angry he might have been entranced with the delicate beauty nature presented for him. Overhead, stars began to wink into view, clustering in brilliant patterns across the darkened firmament.
Fangs ached urgently, and his over-sensitized scent, hearing, sight, taste and touch nearly tipped Harry into a delirium of blood thirst. He had absolutely no control over his new senses what so ever, nor had he the slightest idea what it was that his instincts had picked up on for prey suitable to feed on.
Yet these jarring and disharmonic sensations were nothing compared to the flare of ecstasy that came next; blinding him completely and nearly knocking the breath out of his lungs. Yet through it all Harry snarled in resentment, thinking that it was his 'Sire' coming near to plague him again. Keeping his eyes fastened on some non-existing spot in the far distance, Harry's lips involuntary drew back threateningly.
"Sheathe your claws –eh- fangs, Potter." came a terribly familiar and unwelcome drawl.
"Malfoy," Harry hissed, fangs not retreating even slightly, "What are you doing here?"
From the corner of his eyes he could see black trousers covering long legs standing a few paces away from him. "Me?" the smooth voice sounded from above him, "Unlike you, I live here and unlike you I am to be the heir of all you see, so actually it should be me asking you that question."
"-But," Draco cut him off before a full fledged hiss could slip past Harry's lips, "Seeing as neither you nor I have a choice in the matter and to be truthfully honest with you," he sighed in over-acted seriousness as he sat down gracefully next to him, "I'm just here to witness how utterly pathetic the grand golden boy is, sulking here in nothing but a pair of boxers."
Harry turned his head to give him a dark look and was faced with a smug smirk on the Slytherin's face, "Seems like my trouble to come all the way out here was more than rewarding," he added with glinting gray eyes.
"Malfoy, please do me a favor and lend me your wand so I can hex a padlocked zipper in replacement of your mouth," Harry murmured tiredly, cradling his forehead with a hand in attempt to force some control over his instincts. But it was no use, though Draco was sitting at a respectful distance, the smell of his body clung to Harry's senses and it felt as if his fangs were pulsating with a life of their own. He needed to feed and he knew that, but through sheer strength of character he denied himself the pleasure.
If Draco knew the Gryffindor's urge to grab him and gouge deep holes into artery of his neck, he was doing a wonderful job masking his uneasiness. The blonde was stretching his legs out languidly in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. Draco had always been handsome – and he knew that – but now there was something preternatural about him in the dim flickers of the stars above, the light and shadow playing across his features making him seem completely ethereal.
Draco Malfoy. Harry snorted inwardly; how was it possible that the two of them -of all people- ended up in situation like this? …As if it had been planned by powers higher than their own, celestial beings now looking down on them and waiting for the inevitable to happen.
The thoughts scattered and the faces of his best friends drifted past his minds eye. What he would give to see them now. Ron and Hermione. What would they say if they knew? Would they reject him? His kind had been hated and hunted for centuries… He still remembered an article in the Daily Prophet where Rita Skeeter had commented; '…and it would do well for them to rid this world of vampires…'
The Slytherin was staring at him now; a blunt and steady gaze, his slate gray eyes fathomless. Like the night they only mirrored what he saw, but denied any further way into what he felt. If they had been water the surface would have rippled with dangerous currents underneath.
"What?" he snapped irritably; the blonde was looking at him as if he were a caged animal in the zoo. As if it wasn't enough that he was already sitting here in nothing but a pair of boxers.
The other remained unfazed, save for a narrowing of his eyes. A long unnerving silence and then; "Why do you fight it?"
Harry did not look away; he would not let himself. The green of his eyes glowed in the dark, alive and burning with a surreal power far surpassing Draco's imagination. Yet the Slytherin felt a tug at the bottom of his stomach when he saw how empty the gaze was. It had never been so; it had always blazed bright with anger and disgust for him. They had always held a challenge. They had always made Draco want to jam his wand into them. But now…Harry wasn't the same like this, and that bothered him. A sort of nameless anxiety made Draco's hands clench into fists, but he couldn't bring himself to look away.
He always accepted the challenge. Always. He lost every time, but he had always done so again. One day he would win. He was sure of it. And now there was nothing, no challenge. Not even for him.
He had to repress every urge to grab his nemesis' shoulders and shake him until his teeth rattled. He'd rather fight with the Gryffindor until the end of his days than to face a Harry like this. Just when he started to shift to do something, anything at all; the panic was quelled by Harry's determined glare.
"I am nobody's pawn." He said, "Not Dumbledore's, not Voldemort's and not your father's."
An aloof eyebrow was arched and Draco had to smirk. Harry turned to look away from him and the void seemed to settle over his eyes again. Now he didn't hesitate and put a hand on the dark haired youth's shoulder, a mocking parody of how best friends re-assure each other.
"Hey, if it's any consolation…" he paused to smirk at Harry's bewildered expression at the sudden contact, "I still think you're a pathetic little Gryffindor."
Even as he drew away, Harry still remained leaning away from him, green eyes wide. Then a small grin and a roll of his eyes, "Gee thanks."
"Anytime, Scarhead," Draco drawled as he leaned back on his elbows.
That was what started it. It had been an agreement of unspoken words, but both of them knew: truce. Whether it was because both of them were utterly sick of fighting, or because they had saved each others lives, or maybe out of boredom, or perhaps because they had simply grown up, neither of them knew.
But it was there.
Three days later…
Harry prodded and pushed his vegetables absently over his plate, only to reluctantly put one in his mouth after a while, trying to swallow it without letting it touch the insides of his mouth. Not that he wasn't hungry. He was. Very.
Dinner was something he had started to avoid. There was nothing more awful than sitting there with people he did not trust, picking at food he didn't want. And it had become worse after his fight with Lucius. Usually Narcissa would lighten the mood with idle chatter, mostly soon joined by Draco's. Now there was only a tense silence, and even Draco didn't seem to hold his usual appetite; he had been pricking at the same carrot for over ten minutes now, successfully reducing it to an orange drab.
Yet there he was, hunched slightly and cringing whenever he had to chew his food in order not to choke. He was only here because of Narcissa, because the woman had called upon the aid of a tailor who had spend the whole afternoon fiddling around Harry, measuring him and generally annoying the daylights out of the Gryffindor. Now there were several new garments being made for him, ones that 'actually fitted' as Narcissa stressed. Though he much more preferred his baggy jeans and over-sized standard Weasley-jumper, he wouldn't complain. For one he hated having to borrow clothes from his rival, not only because they were too small around the waist yet too long for his legs, but more because Draco loved to smirk about it.
Lucius hadn't touched any of the delicious food the house-elves had gone through so much trouble to prepare. Fingers were laced, his pointed chin resting on top of them, seemingly deep in thought. He was not going to like when Lucius revealed what was going on in that head of his, Harry knew.
Draco stopped drawing non-existent patterns in his carrot-drab and raised his head expectantly. Lucius took a sip from his wine and dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. Harry had to repress the urge to roll his eyes heavenward.
"Tomorrow," Lucius began, adding just a sufficient amount of ice in his tone, "We'll go to Grimmauld Place."
That was all he said, like it was as simple as flooing over and saying 'Hi, I'm dead!' He hadn't noticed his fork clattering to the floor until Narcissa actually picked it up for him.
Harry opened his mouth to say something, but the first syllable got stuck half-way up his throat. He still hadn't forgiven the pale man sitting at the head of the table, not at all. Momentarily he wanted to scowl and remain unresponsive. But then, there it was again - the tug in his system. Sire and Liber. Bound through blood. The glacial eyes seemed like shards of metal, but Harry felt hope flooding from the tall man. Swallowing thickly and shifting on his seat, Harry picked up on the statement, "Do they know?"
It was as if the icy barrier was chipped by Harry's unspoken words of acceptance. He had not been forgiven, nor did he want to, but at least they could try working together again. Not letting the relief appear on his face, Lucius answered, "No. I simply contacted Severus, who I knew would report immediately to Dumbledore. I just gave them some bait to make them suspicious enough to accept the offer."
A dark eyebrow arched incredulously, "And they just agreed like that?"
The trademark Malfoy smirk tugged at Lucius's lips. "Of course not," he replied evenly, "Once we go in, we won't go out."
Trailing behind Lucius and Draco on the walk leading from the street to a battered, black-painted door with a silver knocker in the shape of a twisted serpent, Harry found it hard to breathe. He just couldn't swallow down the thick lump constricting his already dry throat. This whole situation was so bizarre that part of him did not really believe it was happening.
Never in his entire life had he been so frightened. Though a Gryffindor trait, courage was not the absence of fear but the act of conquering it. So here he was, and that was about it, because he was not exactly feeling very Gryffindor at all… especially not with the two instincts within him vying for supremacy.
All three of them were wearing long, concealing hooded cloaks, and Harry had been ordered to leave his hood down to remain anonymous until Lucius told him otherwise. Draco was there for the sole purpose of being able to answer questions under Veritaserum, if the members of the Order so desired. The Truth Potion would had adverse reactions on vampire physiology and the question then would be which party would be endangered most during such an occurrence. And after all, Draco was more or less the key in all that had happened, the string that tied everything together.
The exterior of the house was dirty and unkempt, the windows grim. It felt as he was literally walking towards a tangible portrayal of his own mood, and if that was so, Harry was only more terrified of what would lie within.
The day was dying, the darkness of the dawning night making them inconspicuous to all who might have sighted them. Or at least, that was what he thought until his vampire instinct wailed at the strong pressure jarring his senses with a frightening intensity. And that was when Harry knew they were surrounded by powerful wizards. His underlying abilities picked out at least four of them with striking accuracy: Remus J. Lupin, Minerva McGonagall, Mad-eye Moody and Severus Snape.
"Mr. Malfoy," one said in a voice that did little to hide his distress, "If you would follow me."
It was too late; there was no turning back. Harry tried to withdraw in his cloak as deep as he could, eyes only trained on the hem of Draco's robe preceding him. From where he was standing, he could feel the swift cadence of the heart, his fangs throbbing in recognition. Even if all these wizards had been standing beyond his reach, he would still be unable to control them - he was simply too scared, his emotions too riled.
He walked closely behind Draco, keeping his head bowed at all times, his breathing even. But when one of their chaperones came too near, he bit his lip sharply, in desperate effort to keep the feral snarl from being heard. Harry went cold as hostile feelings churned within his being, just below the surface as his vampire instinct recognized every one of them as an enemy.
Or worse: as prey.
Unexpectedly, his Sire took compassion on him, and pushed further into their surreal link than he ever had before. Harry could feel Lucius's presence in his mind, quelling and soothing all the fear, giving him that little extra to put one foot before the other.
They entered the building, into the place that harbored so many painful memories, and it felt as if he were drowning quickly. His human nature was unable to handle the rejection that he knew would come, but his vampire nature raised its shackles against the perfect idiocy of walking into enemy territory, knowing that the three of them would never stand a chance, outnumbered and cornered.
He had been so caught up in merely trying to shut everything out that he hadn't noticed that they'd stopped, and per consequence he collided with Draco's back. The blonde cast a quick glance over his shoulder, but there was no cruel sneer, no mocking smirk. When he looked away again, Harry felt surprisingly relieved.
Taking a deep breath as he bolstered his courage, Harry took in a fleeting glimpse of their location: the kitchen; with all of the Order members present. His breath caught. Ron and Hermione. Not aware that he had started to move towards them, Draco grabbed for his sleeve, giving his arm a sharp squeeze through the fabric.
Suppressing a menacing hiss, he ducked his head down, moving behind the two others. Hoping that it would all be over soon, in whatever end that might be.
"Ah, Mr. Malfoy," someone greeted politely, with a tone which one would use during a tea party. Dumbledore, no doubt, "May I offer you some tea?" Yes, definitely Dumbledore.
A wave of annoyance swooped from his Sire like a thick cloud. He never had liked the demented old man, and being addressed as an old friend of his wounded his pride, "No thank you, I do believe I came here for more urgent matters than tea."
There was a murmuring of unrest at the action; several order members pointing their wands resolutely at what they thought of as Death Eater scum.
"Hellas," was all Dumbledore said, "t'was strawberry flavored."
Harry was unable to see Lucius, but he did not need his sight to know that Lucius was scowling viciously, if the ire the DayWalker emanated was anything thing to go by. There was a pregnant silence after this, almost as if the cords of tension could be cut with a blade. Someone shifted on his chair. Harry also knew that due to the jeopardy and challange of the whole situation, that part of his Sire's dark nature was enjoying luring and riling the humans in the room. Perhaps he didn't even need his sadistic vampire-self for that.
"Speak up then, murderer!" someone lashed abruptly at Lucius, "Be not so foolish to misstep, and we might let you and your accomplices off with only a life-sentence at Azkaban."
"There, there, Emmeline," Dumbledore soothed calmly, "Mr. Malfoy is only here to offer us some insight on the dreadful events these past days."
Harry could hear Hermione's soul-wrenching sob, coming from somewhere on his left. He clenched his hands into fists, fingernails breaking skin in the form of little crescents.
"Why would scum like the likes of him do something like that?" Alastor Moody said evenly, his tone teetering on all-out repulsion, "I propose we stun him and sent him to the Dementors before he decides to slither his way out of here. Bringing him to the headquarters, Feh! Madness. Nothing he has to say could be worth this great a risk."
"You are no match for me, old man," Lucius threatened through clenched teeth," I could rip your heart from your chest before you'd realize it."
This was going entirely the wrong way and quickly at that.
"AH! There, from his own mouth!" Moody shouted triumphantly, "Pure dirt, no more feeling than the corpses rotting away through the murders by his hands."
Lucius hissed sharply, and his voice betrayed the venom he was holding against this man, "Shut your mouth, human! Before I shut it for you!"
The anger and inner conflict his Sire felt triggered something entirely unknown to Harry. A quiet rumble of a growl made it past his clenched teeth and he bit his tongue to calm himself. It was if his consciousness was extending throughout the whole place, every presence within the room seemed almost like burning spots on his mental sentient radar.
He sensed Moody taking a step closer tauntingly, and as he spoke Harry had to part his mouth to relieve the pressure pressing downward on his upper jaw. "I will shred you to confetti and feed your remains to the Dementors. After all, you have no soul left to suck out! Not Voldemort's personal whore!"
That ignited the all-consuming rage curling around his insides, freeing the violence that had been hidden within him. He stepped forth with a snarl, fangs descending and supernatural defenses coming to the fore. Lucius reached out to restrain him, but managed only in pulling back the hood that had so far obscured his face – and with terrible timing at that.
The collective gasp and shrieks of disbelief meant nothing to Harry as he zoned in to his prey, lips withdrawing from over long, predatory fangs, silver eyes hypnotizingly locked on to his unfortunate target. He did not run, but he strode, seemingly taller and more graceful than he'd ever been. Anyone who had the ability to comprehend what was going on would have witnessed Harry as one of the most beautiful dark creatures they had ever seen. The tan had also faded into a very white complexion, contrasting his hair violently, his lips full and red, bared to show sharp, pointed teeth. A hand shot out from under the long cloak, fastening around the Auror's collar.
"How dare you speak to my Sire like that, mortal?" a snarl broke his sentence, fighting against his all consuming hunger, and the human in him screamed out in abhorrence at what was happening, "I could suck the life out of you if I wanted, you pathetic sack of flesh."
The full power of his true, not to mention angered, vampire nature flared into and out of Harry as if he was a conduit. Absently his mind registered that nobody had come to Moody's aid, and that was probably because all of them were shocked beyond coherent thought.
Everything melded into one red haze, and he tightened his grip on the elder wizard's neck, "Foolish mortal …" the dark creature within him spoke, repeating itself incoherently through the haze of blood thirst. He was unaware that he had lifted the heavy man of the ground with one hand, "How dare you? How dare you speak of my Sire like that? What do you know about it?" A bitter smile flexed his lips, before unexpectedly screaming, "WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT IT?"
"H-Harry…"
Ron.
Harry dropped the man to the ground as if he'd burned himself, both his hands flying up to his mouth in disbelief. Stumbling backwards all he managed to do was to close his eyes in a desperate attempt to get a grip on what he'd just done. On what had almost happened.
"Oh God, I'm s-so sorry," despair and disgust leaped at him, tore at him, he was a monster with a human soul.
"Harry." Hermione whispered, sitting up straight, her lips trembling "Harry. Is that really you?"
Shaking his head and backing away in to a corner, he replied "No," more to himself than to anyone else, "I'm an abomination."
"Harry?" Hermione had slipped off her chair, her small frame moving towards him, head lowered and brown eyes peeking at him from under curly hair. A hand came up, and Harry could not back away any more, so he flinched away, frightened, certain that he would harm her if he tried otherwise. Yet the movements made the tip of her index finger brush his cheek. A bright smile lighted her pixie-like face, "H-Harry. Oh God! Harry!"
Before he could react, Hermione had thrown both her arms around his neck, and he vaguely registered the reverent chanting of his name coming from his friend. Harry's skin prickled and the hairs all over his body stood on end as he felt the predator in him react to the scent of Hermione's lifeblood coursing under her pale skin. Though he had frozen in her embrace, Hermione clung to him as if she was afraid that if she'd let him go, he'd disappear again. Tears of relief dampened the nape of his neck. Eventually the human in him steadied the dark creature, and Harry's arms came up slowly, holding her carefully at first. And then, at hearing his name in a whisper on her lips, he returned the embrace genuinely, relief flooding his system. A small gasp came from deep inside, letting out a breath he didn't know he had been holding.
"I'm so sorry," he said quietly, unable to say anything else, "so sorry."
"Harry."
His head came up sharply from Hermione's thick hair, and he stared right into a pair of deep blue eyes that belonged to no other than his best friend Ronald Weasley. Hermione moved out of his embrace; leaving him to face Ron alone.
Both friends just looked at each other for a long time, Harry's green eyes whirling with all kinds of emotions he could not hide.
"You stupid prat!" Ron bellowed suddenly, "Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid idiot!" and then he all but pulled Harry into a famous Weasley-hug, a treat that he had certainly inherited from his mother, "stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid …"
Harry found himself laughing for the first time since he had been reborn, and he patted Ron's back with a sheepish grin, the redhead having to bend over awkwardly to hug him properly.
"Let go Ron," Hermione warned gently after a few minutes, "Or you'll suffocate him."
"Don't worry," Draco interrupted with all the timing only a Malfoy could pick, "He can't get any deader than he is now. So knock yourself out"
Ron turned towards his arch-enemy, letting Harry go, "You!" he screeched indignantly.
"Yes, me," the Slytherin said with his famous smirk in place, "Been here all along. Maybe you need some glasses? A pair that would match Potter's?"
The tall Gryffindor presented his adversary with a surprisingly glacial glare, and moving to stand protectively in front of the raven haired boy, he said quietly, "What have you done to Harry?"
Off all the expressions Harry had even seen on the handsome pale face, this would have been the one most genuine so far. Complete bewilderment, with a hint of pain at the memory.
Before Draco managed to shake off the feeling long enough to initiate another fight, Harry spoke up; "None of this is Draco's fault, Ron. Things are a little more complicated than that." As he said that, Harry moved around from behind Ron, wearily closing the distance to where Lucius and his son were standing. A pair of slate gray eyes belonging to the latter followed, a questioning furrowed brow appearing.
Letting his gaze wander around the room, the intensity of the stare touching every single one of them as if it had been physical contact, Harry raised his chin, trying to look as calm as the pose was meant to be, "I don't believe we have met," he smiled sadly at the confused expressions, "My name is Harry James Potter, son of Lily Evans and James Potter," He paused, the emotion on his youthful face raw and open, "I am a vampire. Lucius Malfoy is my Sire."
That was all he had to say. All he could say. True to the Gryffindor he was, Harry did not look away, but the tension in the room was filled with unspoken thoughts and clashing emotions.
"Wotcher, Harry." Tonks spoke up suddenly as the silence grew beyond anything remotely comfortable –Not that it had been comfortable in the first place. "Wicked fangs by the way. Makes ya look very badass"
A spike of amusement went through most of the wizards and witches, the positive reaction causing Harry to smile. "Eh…thanks?" he offered, not ever having looked at it that way.
"Oh Harry," Came Molly's strangely relieved sob, Arthur standing behind her and patting her absentmindedly on a shoulder, a look of disbelief and shock on his face as he openly stared at the young vampire.
The lean frame of the eldest wizard in the room rose, his aged hands splayed across the tabletop. "Welcome back, My Boy," Dubledore spoke softly, his voice sounding choked for a reason Harry could not yet comprehend.
As a wave of murmurs filled the room, pushing himself forth from where he was standing in the back came Remus John Lupin; prematurely-old face contorted with something that spoke of emotions so deep most could not even begin to understand.
"Harry," said Remus in familiar his rough voice when as pulled the bemused youth in a heartfelt embrace, "I thought I'd lost you, too."
Harry did not understand why everybody seemed so…happy. He was a dark creature; he was bonded to Lucius Malfoy, a Death Eater. Did they not understand? He was dangerous, he needed to drink blood to survive, his heart did not beat, and his eyes became silver when he was angry, as did he grow fangs –They had seen that. Then why was there no rejection? No abhorrence? No fear? He felt those, so why did they not?
That last thought had barely formed in his stupefied mind, when an acidic tone snarled: "Get away from him!"
Alastor had finally seemed to surface from the shock long enough to react appropriately, "He's infected! He attacked me!" he screeched indignantly, gripping his neck as if Harry had actually bitten him.
"I'm s-so sorry, sir… I didn't…I…" was all that Harry managed to reply as a lump formed in his throat.
"Don't apologize, Liber," Lucius said with his usual cool and collected tone, "You couldn't do anything about it; it is your instinct to defend me."
Remus had rested both his hands on Harry's shoulders as he stood behind him, everything about the position protective of the younger boy, "Look at him Alastor," he said, "This is the young man all of us have come to know and love."
"On the outside he is, yes! But on the inside his heart is rotting!" the Auror insisted stubbornly, pointing with a gnarled finger at the silent Gryffindor, every word cutting the young man, "He is a Vampire! A Dark Creature! A Servant of -"
"Are you sure you want to finish that sentence, Alastor?" Remus bit at him, amber eyes flashing with affront, "Because if you do, I might feel inclined to turn to the dark side as well!"
Harry gave the werewolf a surprised, but appraising look over his shoulder. Then it dawned on him. He was not alone. He was more similar to the man standing by his side than he'd realized. After all, law listed them both as Dark Creatures. Perversely he felt more at ease in Remus' presence than he had in anyone else's; even more so than in that of his own Sire.
There was a shocked silence as the meaning of those words sank in, and even Mad-eyes seemed taken aback by what he had almost said, for a moment conveniently forgetting that one of his closest trusted colleagues was a 'Dark Creature' himself.
Harry felt his eyes drawn to those of Dumbledore, only to find those locking immediately with his. "Evil may have created him," he said softly, "But evil does not rule him."
The DayWalker managed a small smile, appreciating the faith everybody seemed willing to rest on him, though he was what he was. And somehow, looking at how Remus went through life, it didn't seem that surreal anymore. It was just a fact that there was little known about vampires, because the human in every one of them, was different from the rest of their kin. He had just begun to learn so himself.
"I believe there is a lot of explaining to be done," Dumbledore continued, looking at them intently while conjuring three more chairs, and gesturing to the three outsiders, "Please take a seat. Enlighten us."
They did. And after a deep breath Lucius began talking, his smooth and pleasant voice weaving an atmosphere that had even those who knew the story enraptured as the truth unfolded.
Harry sat and listened patiently, every so often offering his own experience on the matter as Lucius retold the story. He confessed of his intentions during the attack on Hogwarts, the fear only a father could feel when Draco's moment for marking had come, his son's brave and pure, but dreadful refusal to murder Harry. He spoke of the moment when past, present and future had contorted to that one moment when Harry had shielded Draco from the Avada Kedavra, sacrificing himself. Then coming to his decision to Turn the dying savior of the Wizarding World, and ending the tale with the troublesome incident at the 'funeral'.
When he finally ended, Harry found himself drifting in deep thought, still ignorant of the hand Hermione had rested on his. The stillness was heavy, and all of the eyes in the room were riveted on the enigmatic man sitting before them.
"Another thing," Lucius said smoothly, "I need every person to undergo the Magical Oath, before I can reveal to you the most important thing of all…"
The Magical Oath was an unbreakable, bonding and irreversible agreement to preserve certain information. The one undertaking it would be unable to communicate to another about it, not through words, gestures, writing, anything, not even telepathically.
"And why would we do that?" Kingsley questioned, his left eye narrowed wearily.
"If you want the truth," Lucius said simply, "Then you will do so."
After a heated discussion, the members of the Order agreed to take the oath, the only real negative possibility being that they would be the only ones with knowledge about whatever it was Lucius had to say. Casting nervous glances to each other, the seated rose as one body, raising their left hands in pledge, their rights placed over their hearts.
Lucius looked almost ethereal as he gazed at them through calculating lowered eyelids. At his barely perceptible nod, Draco drew a graceful circle in the air with tip of his wand. It was as if he scorched the air, the movement buzzing and crackling with the symbol of binding, creating a burning, fiery line that hovered eerily in their midst. "Celo Arcanum." The Slytherin spoke clearly, finishing the incantation with a cross in the shimmering circle, indicating the prohibition of revealing the information that would now be exchanged.
"Good." Lucius stated, "Now, Draco, demonstrate…"
He pulled Harry in front of him as Draco aimed his wand at the boy, causing most of the Order to jump up in alarm. Before they had reached them, Draco already said, "Lumos Solem!"
A jet of warm, bright sunlight shot from the tip, causing Harry to raise his hand to keep the intensity from blinding his eyes. The submission lasted long enough to prove their point, and then with an elegant flick of his wrist, the blonde youth ended the spell.
"Impervious to sunlight…" Remus said thoughtfully, shaking his head in disbelief. He was still standing half-upright, leaning on the table, from when he had moved instinctively to interject; "I don't understand… you should have been reduced to ash by a beam of sunlight that powerful."
"Exactly," Lucius said evenly, the tone of voice anything but clinically professional. "I –and for now Harry- are special."
"DayWalkers." Dumbledore said from where he was sipping at his tea. At Lucius's uncharacteristically dumbfounded stare, he clarified, "Honestly, Lucius, you'd think I wouldn't know about your kind?" he smiled, light blue eyes twinkling madly, "Fascinating creatures, DayWalkers. Though, up until now I have only met one so far." He continued with all the pretense as though he were talking about something as irrelevant as the weather. As afterthought he added, "Polite for a vampire, that Hawke."
"Did the Elder, did Hawke…"
"Came to ask for my aid, yes," Dumbledore smiled gently, aligning his fingertips and peering over them, "Wanted to know if there was anything to the halt the Lacuna; which –if I remember correctly- is what makes your kin so scarce."
"Oohooh… back up," Bill Weasley interjected abruptly, "DayWalkers, Elder, Hawke, Lacuna? Anyone care to explain?"
"DayWalkers are vampires with the ability to withstand sunlight –and much more than that." Lucius said without trying to hide his annoyance, "The Elder is Hawke, and there is only one, being the oldest known among our special lineage,"
Taking a sip from his white wine he continued, reluctant and snidely, "Know that there are only two natural born DayWalkers – The Elder, and myself. This phenomenon is also the reason why we are what we are. The Elder's Sire was a common vampire, but by his decision to risk converting a pregnant woman, he gave the unborn child within the ability to withstand sunlight though the genetic combination of human and vampire. The same happened to me in turn, the woman who carried me was dying, and my Sire, Hawke, accepted her ply to save her child. I was born a vampire, my abilities naturally inherited and thus immune to the Lacuna.
The Lacuna is what happens to all those who are reborn into DayWalkers –which is simply being turned by one. This is what Harry is, reborn a DayWalker as I –being one myself- fed him with my blood. The Lacuna is the waning of the DayWalker blood in him as time passes. There is one single remedy for this expense: The Mate."
Harry was sitting on the edge of his chair, learning more about his near future than his Sire had revealed to him under his tutelage.
"I do not know how much time Harry has left still," Lucius said seriously, not bothering to look at anyone during his speech but Dumbledore, "What I do know is that if he does not succeed in finding his mate, the Lacuna will claim him, stripping him from all his DayWalker abilities to the point he is reduced to less than a vampire. Those who you wizards look at to judge us are those who have suffered the Lacuna. Those who have forgotten their soul."
The confession had caused Harry's entire chest to tighten up and he was breathing in short little gasps, making him feel light in his head. He'd rather gouge a hole through his unresponsive heart with a stake than lose his soul.
"Well then, mate," Ron elbowed him brightly, in an attempt to lighten the oppressive feeling of the room, "Who do you fancy?"
Harry could only glare his unwillingness and opposition to the whole situation, pretending to be very fascinated with how his recovery ability had healed the little cuts he had received by breaking his skin with his nails earlier on. After all, 'a mate', it seemed so… well, complicated. After his little fling with Cho –better know as The Cho-Disaster- in his fifth year, and the other misadventure from last year –something he'd rather not think about-, Harry was not very enthusiastic over the prospect of finding a permanent mate. Harry really didn't know how to react to all this and silence descended as he looked away, unable to deal with his own mind and sentiments at the moment.
"What about school?" he asked eventually, changing the subject in an effort to continue the conversation.
"I must say that this would be the second most troubling complication," Dumbledore admitted honestly, "Due to all the media attention your death has received, it is rather hard to have you simply returning to Hogwarts… But!" he added at Harry's complete broken and crestfallen look at the possibility that he would never return to the only home he had ever known, "I will do everything that lies within my power to assure that you can come back to us. You have my word."
To hear that meant more to Harry than he had ever thought it would –and deep inside, he believed him. He nodded in gratitude.
"For now, I think it would by wise that you went with your Sire," Dumbledore said gently, but in a tone that begged no argument.
Lucius stood gracefully, his long blonde hair falling into his face as he brushed some imaginary dust from his long cloak, "Speaking of which, I think that our departure is in order now…"
"You really don't think you are just walking away from here, don't you?" Moody growled bitterly, his magical eye rolling madly in its socket.
"Ah well, you see," Lucius said with a sly smirk, "If you harm me, you harm Harry."
"I don't see why that would by any problem, leech." The Auror countered; his tone emotionless.
"Alastor!" Molly screeched indignantly, "How can you say that?"
"Enough of these pointless arguments revolving about 'what if's' and 'suppose that's'" Dumbledore interposed smoothly before the disagreement could go any further, "His intentions are neutral and for now only focused on his Liber's safety." He gazed with a knowing look at Lucius, the DayWalker belatedly realizing that he'd undergone the ancient wizard's natural legilimens abilities.
After some goodbyes and other formalities –which included the termination of the Celo Arcanum- Harry found himself alone in the hallway with the people closest to him while his Sire and Draco waited outside.
"Be strong, Harry" Hermione whispered against his chest, "I know you always are, but just a little longer. It will be alright."
"Good-bye, Hermione," Harry said as he rocked her gently in his embrace, quelling any vampiristic intention firmly, "Write me."
"I will Harry, I will," the brown haired Gryffindor promised, "See you soon. I promise."
Next Ron stepped up, giving a half-cheerful ruffle through Harry's already messy mop of hair, "I just wish you could've come home with us…"
"Yeah," Harry murmured silently, "I would have liked that."
"Wish I could have been there to share the burden, mate," Ron said with a small mischievous grin, "You and I together could have put those Malfoys in St. Mungo's with a nervous breakdown."
A small smile played around Harry's full lips as he looked up to his friend, meeting his eyes. "Hope to see you soon, Ron, more than you can imagine." He would miss his best friend more than everything, especially now.
Moony wrapped him in a one-armed hug, trying not to look as worried as he really was, "Keep your head up, cub, write me whenever you'd need it. Whatever it is, don't doubt, I won't judge you."
The DayWalker pulled the werewolf into a short, but wholehearted embrace, "Thank you Moony. Good-bye."
Finally, he was alone with Dumbledore in the darkened hallway. Suddenly the whole lighthearted and mysterious aura surrounding the man evaporated, leaving deep concern apparent on his wizened face, "Oh, my poor Boy. I am so sorry, I have failed you." he hung his head, seemingly deeply ashamed and ready to take the blame.
Harry was temporarily at loss of what to say. "But, s-sir, I went myself. You had nothing to do with it."
"That's it Harry. I wasn't there when you needed me most," he explained sadly.
Both powerful wizards stood there in contemplative silence, Harry chewing his lower lip anxiously, suddenly experiencing the urge to apologize for something –something he should have done a long time ago. "Sir, I-I am sorry for what happened after S-Sirius died, in your office. I realize that it was unfair and egoistical of me to blame you. I understand now, why you did not tell me."
Dumbledore was watching him with such a stunned visage, before saying softly, "My Boy," and opening his arms. Harry went to him instantly, the paternal gesture printing itself deep within his memory.
For a moment, he felt almost human again.
Lacuna: a hole, empty space, deficiency, loss.
Celo: to hide, conceal, keep secret.
Arcanum: sacred secret.
EDIT: Uh, so I kinda forgot to edit out the comments from my beta. I had to go to the theater and I was in a rush of getting it up… –sheepish grin- Sorry! On with the show! (Where did that 'Harr' came from anyway? Sheesh...)
Do know that I appreciate every single one of your reviews, and hadn't it been so much, I might just have abandoned the whole thing. But your motivation and enthusiasm made me feel really guilty and I booted myself into action.So thank you, it really helped, and though I might not deserve it after a delay so long, I do ask again for you to review. IT REALLY KEEPS ME GOING! REALLY!
MortalTransience has once again succeeded in putting up with all my mistakes! Must be some kind of badass typo-exorcist or something, I dunno. Therefore, thank you! You are a great support!