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.
oOoOo
"Haaaaaaaa."
Harry let out another sigh. Today had been a very accurate definition of a 'trying day'.
First, he'd been attacked at dawn by none other than his best friend; then the mad running to get to Potions on time; the awful moment with Malfoy; and finally, his lovely trip to the infirmary where he'd learned that he owedMalfoy for... uh, better not think about it.
He'd made it to Charms where he'd been confronted with what now seemed to be Hogwarts students' latest hobby: Harry-Staring 2, the Return.
He was used to it, or to a certain extent anyway, ever since his first year at Hogwarts. He was The Boy-Who-Lived, delivered with the scar and all. Behold the walking miracle and rejoice.
His second year had been a glorious one as well: he had brilliantly won the Most Potential Heir of Slytherin Contest. He'd been looming in the corridors in his black robes at all the right moments – Darth Vader would have been so proud of him. He was also talking to snakes, which everybody had conveniently forgotten when he'd been designated as the only one able to kick Baldiemort's arse.
People.
Third year then, back when he'd been the target of both a Mad Mass-Murderer and a Mad Messed Up Merlin-wannabe. Stupid Dumbledore. That's right, let's not tell poor Harry anything useful so he can nearly kill off his own innocent godfather. Yaaaay. He really had to thank the Old Coot for that one. Actually, for everything else as well.
Fourth year to sixth year: 'show must go on'. He had successively been a blood dispenser, a murderer, a liar, The-Boy-Who-Would-Save-Them-All and finally – finally! The Hero of the Bloody Wizarding World. It certainly had been an interesting career, if not a bit unwanted. At least, he could say he had an interesting résumé.
Anyway, here he was, being the centre of attention yet againfor fainting in a certain Ice Prince's arms, though that would be the Hufflepuff female students' version. The Ravenclaws thought it was a very clever and subtle approach to seduce Malfoy into spilling all of the Slytherins' secrets. The Slytherins themselves were thinking along those lines, except that it had been a diversion to get Malfoy alone and then torture him until he spilled. As for the Gryffindors, they were just worried for Harry's health and suspected it was part of one of Malfoy's latest schemes to humiliate the Boy-Who-Lived.
Being marvelled at by the Ravenclaws during double Charms, gaped at by the Hufflepuffs during Herbology, glared at by the Slytherins in the corridors, worriedly glanced at by the Gryffindors during the whole afternoon, and finally being shamelessly stared at throughout the whole dinner had been a bit unnerving.
Harry had quickly stuffed his stomach with whatever wonderful dish had been on the table, not wanting a repeat of the episode at the infirmary, and especially not wanting ANYONE to carry him bridal style ANYWHERE.
He'd excused himself and gone back to the dorms as soon as he'd been able to. His four-poster bed had seemed so inviting back then that he'd quickly brushed his teeth, thrown his clothes all over the place – it made it easier to choose which ones he would wear when he'd be late the next morning – drawn the curtains and gotten under the thick and wonderfully soft blankets. He'd fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He never saw the worried and somewhat suspicious glance Ron had thrown his way when coming back from dinner.
He was dreaming of the nice silvery mist again. It was growing more and more distinct although it kept the shape of the soft, glowing pool he had first dreamt of.
Harry had realized he was able to see people's magical auras when he was really focusing. Everyone had different colours and textures that mixed to create their own unique aura. Sometimes it looked like a halo, sometimes like a fire; some even looked like a many-coloured shroud surrounding their owners, making them look like huge walking-bubbles.
However, the silvery pool was a bit different from what Harry had seen so far. At the beginning of this second dream, he was able to sense that it was not a mere aura. Auras were just the outward shape of someone's magic, the magical core itself was invisible to the human eyes. Except for Harry it seemed. Another weird attribute to his 'Look-At-Me-I'm-A-Freak' Set. Joy.
The silvery magic reacted like some kind of living liquid power; Harry knew that it could be either gentle or deadly. How he knew, he had no idea.
Suddenly, the pool assumed the shape of a snake, slithering slowly, gracefully in Harry's direction. Strangely, he didn't feel threatened at all, on the contrary; it reminded him of something or rather, someone. Harry knew he'd been about to remember the person when something told him to "wake up"; it sounded disturbingly like that sci-fi movie he'd watched not long ago. Except Harry's name was not Neo. Whatever.
All he remembered was a whisper in his head and then his eyes had snapped open to the dark canopy of his bed. What the heck? he thought, annoyed. If even his dreams were disturbed by some deranged something, he'd have to take Dreamless Sleep potions, which tasted like dead slugs. Not that he'd made a habit of eating those, but Ron had actually said something along those lines once.
Harry tried everything he could think of to go back to sleep: counting hippogriffs; naming each and every one of Ron's powerful snores. He even tried the ultimate weapon: replaying Binn's voice during History of Magic class. To no avail.
He was cursing the stupid voice for the umpteenth time when it occurred to him that a bit of flying could help him find sleep, and that explained why he was currently out on his broom, doing all kinds of aerobatics.
He did not know exactly why, but the air at night made him feel freer than ever, as if everything else putting pressure on him faded for a while. He'd been captain of the Gryffindor team for a while, but he was glad to let Ron be the real strategist. True, he enjoyed Quidditch, but organizing and ordering his team around was certainly not what he liked about it. No, the real thrill was the competition, the knowledge that he had so much to gain or lose depending on the way he used his skills.
Besides, it was an immensely satisfying feeling to catch the Snitch right under the nose of the other Seeker. Take Malfoy, for example. There was nothing like the way the Slytherin's eyes would burn when he watched Harry during a difficult match. This was their competition; they were alone, the other players and the crowd disappearing, leaving them both with the Snitch.
Besides, the 'Slytherin Ice Prince' was always acting and speaking coldly, never losing his temper. Harry was thrilled to know he was the only one to change Malfoy into that passionate person who dropped his masks and gave it his all. Why did Malfoy have to be such a cold-hearted bastard?
Harry had been flying for a while, now, and he knew he had to go back. He heaved a deep sigh as he landed discreetly near the Lake. He was about to head back to the castle when he caught something moving out of the corner of his eyes. He quickly hid behind a tree, hoping he'd not been spotted.
Letting himself drop to the ground, he drew his wand and took a quick look. He was right. Someone was silently walking towards the Forbidden Forest. Who would be desperate enough to go there at night? Harry was torn. Should he go after the person?
A mini Harry with a halo appeared on his right shoulder, wearing a robe so white it would have made Petunia Dursley green with envy. Harry thought he just looked like an overgrown fly with his batting, fluffy wings.
"No, Harry, you must go back to the Castle," Mini-White-Harry admonished. "Do you realize that you are already betraying Headmaster Dumbledore's trust by being out so la–"
KICK!
"Oh, stuff it you silly twat!" an irritated voice interrupted. Another mini Harry had popped out of nowhere, wearing tight black jeans and a silk crimson shirt. He also had wings, but they were black, and a tiny forked tail, complete with a set of shiny, black horns. Hands shoved in his pockets, he had kicked Mini-White-Harry's super-white bottom, sending him flying into the air.
"Everybody knows the Old Coot doesn't give a damn about what Harry does!" the sexy little figure snapped. "And trust? What trust? That shrivelled old prune has been lying to Harry ever since day one. Harry needs some fresh air and he's more than able to defend himself."
"Um," Harry tried.
"Harry, don't listen to him!" the white floating figure cried. "This would be far too dangerous and as the saying goes, 'curiosity killed the cat', and you can't just–"
"Say mate, do you ever shut that big mouth of yours? Get your broom out of your arse, it's just a bit of fun!" Mini-Dark-Harry huffed.
"..." Harry said.
"Besides, it's not as if it'd be the first time he went there. During his very first year, Dumbydork himself sent him right into the awaiting hands of the Lard Dork," the tiny devil added pointedly. "Nasty thing that sneaky git was, by the way."
"..." Harry agreed.
"Harry, tell me you don't believe a single word this– this foul creature of the Tempter says?" the angel asked pleadingly.
At the insult, Mini-Dark-Harry bowed gracefully and blew a kiss to his counterpart.
"..." Harry said with conviction.
"Aaah, there's a good boy, and not some kind of prudish, scared little tattler," Mini-Dark-Harry approved.
"Harry, I know what you are about to do and I have no other choice but to listen, so I will go away for now. I hope you will not regret your rash decision. Goodbye," Mini-White-Harry said sadly, disappearing with an audible 'pop'.
"That's right! Buy a forest and get lost in it!" the victorious little devil cackled. "Talking about forests, Harry, what are you waiting for?" he asked with a smirk. "Have fuuun," he purred before disappearing as well.
Harry shook his head, coming back to reality. Of course he was curious. He could take care of himself too. He cautiously stood up, checked that no one was watching, and took a few strides towards the Forest. The mysterious shadow must have gone deep into it already. After a few seconds spent trying to determine which direction the person had taken, Harry walked down the path on his left, trying to detect the faintest of sounds. He'd been hesitating when the path had forked yet again, when his eyes caught sight of a very dim light some distance ahead to his right.
He followed the bluish light for a few minutes which seemed like hours to him. Where the heck was that crazy thing going, anyway? As he started thinking that Mini-White-Harry might have been less stupid than he thought – "I heard that!" an angry voice shouted inside of his head – the light finally stopped moving forward.
The person was now standing in the middle of a clearing, the moon softening their features. Harry came closer. He knew that graceful figure from somewhere. If he could get just a little closer, now–
Harry refrained from gasping out loud.
Malfoy, it was Malfoy standing there, in one of the many clearings of the Forbidden Forest, as if it were the most natural thing to do in the middle of the night. Well, he should have known. The git was a Vampire after all. Still. Harry looked at his Nemesis again. Hell. There should be some kind of law against this. 'One shall not stand under the moonlight so that it gives one's hair and features a bloody fairytale-like glow.'
Harry was still mentally complaining about the complete unfairness of the whole situation when the object of his musings suddenly stiffened and whipped around, looking straight at Harry. The blonde was so shocked to see that he'd been followed by the Gryffindor that he did not react immediately.
"Malfoy! What the hell are you doing here at this time of the night?" Harry shouted with a worried note that surprised both of them.
Draco could not resist.
"Why, I didn't know you cared Harry," he purred.
Harry growled. "I don't give a damn! I was just–"
"–being nosy, as usual. No, no, don't look at me like that. And don't try to say anything else, you'd be wasting your time but most importantly mine, so why don't you go back to your room and let people deal with their business, hm?" he interrupted nonchalantly.
Harry decided to ignore the taunt.
"And what, pray tell, would their business be right here and now?" he asked.
He had to know what Malfoy was up to. To make sure it wasn't anything threatening. To the school. There. It sounded plausible enough to him.
"That wouldn't be any of yourbusiness."
Oh well. Obviously, not plausible enough to anyone else.
"I swear, if you're doing something even remotely related to Voldemort I'll–"
"Keep your socks on, the ugly git is dead, remember? Final battle? You sneaking up behind him, reducing his wand to tiny little pieces that you made him swallow one by one? Rings any bell?" said the Malfoy heir, enjoying Harry's touchiness.
"I didn't sneak up behind him! That nose-less freak had it coming! I was just too pissed to think about anything else at that time. Sorry for not being original when it came to destroying the Evil Dark Lord," Harry pouted.
"No, no, I thought it was actually quite original, if not a bit, let's say, unorthodox," Draco explained, amused.
"I guess I could have made him look at himself in a mirror. He certainly would have died of a heart attack," Harry mused.
"Or you could have shown him a picture of Pansy naked," Draco shivered. "Though I admit it would have been a bit harsh. Poor bloke. Some things are just too violent for human eyes to behold," he stated wisely. "Even if said human was half-snake," he added, frowning.
"Oh my God, you saw Parkinson naked? Is that even bearable for the eyes? Tell me you didn't actually want to see her naked," a horrified Harry said.
"Are you joking?" Draco screeched. "I'm dark, not suicidal. She managed to break the spells I had on my bed. I had some doubts about Goyle's loyalty anyway." Draco frowned. "He mysteriously got his hands on ten boxes of Chocolate Frogs around that time. In the end, I didn't even have to punish him: he's been sick for a whole week after that. Served him right, that bastard. I haven't seen much of The Monster but it was already way too much, trust me. She was even wearing some sort of pink lipstick matching her garter belt–" he trailed off, and both of them shuddered at the thought.
"That is sick. It's a bloody miracle you even survived this with your sanity," Harry agreed reluctantly. "Geh, reminds me of Cho–" he shuddered, turning an interesting shade of green.
"Chang? What did she do to you? I thought you two were the happiest couple ever," Draco asked, bewildered.
"Urgh. I wish I had never taken her to Hogsmeade. Worst mistake of my life, that was," Harry grimaced. "She 'kissed' me once. How to put this... imagine a snail trying to get down your throat. You'll have a good picture of my life trauma, then. Even before that, she was always complaining about how suddenly hot it was, and then she had to take off her shirt, and I think she also had some problem with her eyes because they wouldn't stop twitching like mad," he said, trying to decipher the meaning of the biggest mystery of life: girls' strange behaviour.
"Girls are pretty terrifying. There should be a book explaining why girls think the way they do," Draco grumbled while Harry nodded heartily.
The vampire paused.
"I can't believe we're having a civil conversation in the middle of the Forest at one past three in the morning," he said, rather amazed.
"Huh? Oh. THAT'S RIGHT! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE!" Harry shouted quite unnecessarily, since Draco was now standing ten feet away from him.
Draco sighed. "So much for the civil conversation," he muttered. "I might as well try to get rid of you by satisfying your Gryffindorish curiosity. As I'm sure you know, I'm a vampire–"
"NO SHIT SHERLOCK! Hermione wouldn't shut up about how positively wicked vampires' powers are, as if I didn't know that already. That's not bloody fair! You're not supposed to be a vampire! Now it can't be my favourite magical creature anymore," Harry pouted like a three-year-old.
Draco was about to make another ambiguous comment about being Harry's favourite creature anytime when his vampire senses told him something was horribly wrong. He'd paid no attention to his surroundings because of Harry's presence. He was now able to sense hundreds of creatures slowly crawling towards the centre of the clearing, where he and Harry were standing.
Draco quickly summed up their situation.
"Fuck."
End of chapter 3
Author's nonsense: There. I hope you're still reading, folks. Chapter 4 is coming!
A/N: I would like to thank Ash of Mine, my wonderful beta. Everyone should have a good beta. That was the philosophical thought of the day.