Author's Note:

Main Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy

Side-Pairings: Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger, Dean Thomas/Seamus Finnegan (Decreased); More shall be displayed as the fic continues.

Brief Summary: Draco Malfoy is a vampire slayer. His sole purpose in life is to kill as many vampires as he can. Since wizard's blood is poisonous to vampires; he has been rather successful. His most recent hunt has eliminated several of the foul creatures; including their leader... or so he thinks. The vampire house leader, Harry Potter, was somehow able to survive and is now stronger than ever. Harry is now out for revenge. He will stop at nothing to kill the grey eyed wizard that almost destroyed him.

Warnings: M/M sex, mild violence and Wizard bashing.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, in all entirety, belongs to the illustrious J.K. Rowling. I own nothing but the plot and make no money from this story. Any similarity with any person/people is simply coincidental.

CHAPTER 3: Power is too much trouble

Making a deal with Voldemort himself had always been a bad idea. However, that hadn't stopped Draco Malfoy from doing so.

Three obligations had been set to him in exchange for the valued skill of Divination.

When offered the deal months earlier, it had been a no-brainer. To gain the ability to actually see his enemies and rule out the possible mistake of killing a muggle, Draco had jumped at the offer.

Jump wasn't exactly the word. A guarded "sure" had sealed the deal. For his soul was no longer his own. He hadn't so much sold it to the devil as loaned it.

Marked across the chest with a palpable tally, he had then set to obligation number one.

It had been easy. Almost too easy.

He even had to wonder why he'd lost sleep about making the deal. To merely locate a centaur and present it, seemed to have pleased Voldemort immensely and Draco wasn't stupid enough to question whether or not he had gotten off easy. When Voldemort was happy, Draco could live his life more peacefully.

There remained only two obligations to repay his debt and to see his soul returned.

Right now, he was focusing on the second—another deceptively simple request.

Bent before the cupboard between his refrigerator and the stainless-steel Potion lab table, Draco looked at a six-inch glass vial; his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth.

All week he had gathered ingredients for a Love Potion; A drop of Unicorn's blood and a cat's seventh life being the most difficult to come by. After carefully measuring and brewing, he'd brought the whole batch to a boil and then left it to cool.

Casting a quick Tempus, Draco realized that the Potion had simmered for nearly half an hour. With practiced movements, he hefted the bronze prewett cauldron and poured it into a vial.

A chocolaty smell filled the air and Draco wrinkled his nose. If the scent was anything to go by, then his potion had been more than successful.

He was careful, however, to ensure not a single drop was wasted. Unless the entire contents were consumed, potions could prove less than effective. In this case, six ounces of liquid could either be drunk or spread over the skin like a moisturizer; it wasn't particular, as long as the ingredients were absorbed into the bloodstream.

"A freakin' love potion." He muttered to himself with a roll of his eyes.

Draco could think of any number of situations in which Voldemort would use his expertise in Potion-making but making a love potion was not one of them. In fact, why the Dark Lord even needed such a questionable potion was beyond the blonde's understanding.

Setting the pot back on the cool burner with a clang, he straightened and searched for his wand so that he could cast a statis spell on the tube, until his employer asked for the potion.

Overhead, a jungle of hanging spider plants tendriled down, some tickling his head. Plants gave him vital energy and kept the apartment's balance.

He sighed and shook his head. "This is so not what I should be doing right now."

On the other hand, the occasional dabbling in actual spell craft and mixing kept his skills from fading. And it helped to tilt the balance back in his favor or so he hoped.

Draco Malfoy was a wizard; had been for more than two centuries. Though he had mastered most of the basic spells; the difficult ones still eluded him. Most of it was because he didn't spend much of his time sitting about; brewing up potions or practicing the art of spell casting.

In fact, it was rare when he indulged in his own magic for any purpose other than to ward his home against intruders. Which was why his life was so dangerously imbalanced right now.

A wizard wasn't a real wizard without consistent practice of spell craft.

So where had his focus gone over the years?

Draco had strived to make a mark on the world. As a slayer, Draco's job required him to destroy vampires. The only good a vampire could do was to make a pile of ash.

Out in the living room on the rosewood coffee table, a row of empty shotgun cartridges waited to be injected with his own blood before he went on patrol this evening.

House Gryffindor had been stalking the suburbs, stirring up a pact with the wolves. Draco had nothing against werewolves. They were the Vampire's enemies; not his. Not that he needed a shove to go after anyone that came in between his mission.

However, recently, he had been feeling weak and tired; a sure sign that he had pushed his life balance far to the Dark side.

"I am in the Light." He murmured to himself, though the declaration was absent of all the belief his ancestors had instilled in him since an early age.

Wizards were the Light. Vampires were the Dark. And while they were just terms used by the wizards for centuries, it was the rare wizard who abandoned the light of the craft to surrender his soul to darkness.

And those who did?

In the eighteenth century, after he had mastered the art of slaying, Draco had watched a fellow wizard take revenge against a farmer for raping him, by blighting his crops. That revenge was not so singular as it should have been. The farmer's entire family starved to death that winter. And the wizard, drawn to the Dark by his act of vengeance, continued to wreak havoc against any slight. He became a hag with a grotesque aura all creatures could see and all chose to avoid. Eventually he was consumed by darkness forever.

Since witnessing that fall to darkness, Draco had vowed that he would always strive for balance. While slaying was necessary, it also marked his soul darkly. So, he would always use his magic for good to keep the balance.

Of course, if he didn't practice magic, his balance angled out of whack and that was the last thing that Draco needed when fighting with a bloody vampire.

Additional Author's Note:

This note spans two very different issues:

This is for the reviewer shedano. While I appreciate their comment about how I write my disclaimer and I accept that I stand corrected, that still doesn't reduce the ridiculousness of the fact that they issued a review solely based on this accusation. Not to mention, the hostile tone that the review took on. I mean, do you realize how eagerly a writer wishes to see their work appreciated and how disappointed a bloody flaming review makes them? It was only the disclaimer, for Merlin's sake!

On a different and happier note, today is my birthday. So, consider this chapter your treat. I'll probably post another one today. Yay for double updates.

Thank you for those Followed/Favorited the story. Reviews would be appreciated and even answered, if I get the time.

Let's just say that Voldemort is one sneaky bastard in this tale...