.: CHAPTER ELEVEN :.

PURSUIT OF TRUTH

When he reached the grand staircase, Harry slumped against the lowest stair, resting his head on the balustrade as he stared down at the potions journal still clutched tightly in his hand. His insides were roiling and twisting as if being strangled by someone's fist. Flipping open the small, dark burgundy cover of the journal, he tried to focus on the words but could not make sense of them.

He had really hurt Draco's feelings, had let his mouth and his temper run away with him. He hadn't denied what he'd felt, hadn't meant to at least. He'd just been worried that this was the best he had ever felt in his life, and it may have all originated from Draco's vampire gifts, not because of how either of them felt. He'd been terrified of falling deeper, harder and then finding out none of it was real.

He wasn't certain what would become of him if he opened himself up only to be hurt again. Don't be such a girl, Potter, he scolded himself, his fingers tracing the section of the book that Draco had found for him. Something in his chest stung at that thought, he fought to push it away…

'Essenz der Fee,' Harry read, his brow furrowing with confusion as he scanned the paragraph, once, twice, three times before he sat back, even more confused. This potion shouldn't have affected Hermione at all, unless… Unless she was hiding a secret from him, from Ron, and somehow Professor Alaric had found out and decided to try and use it against her, to hurt Harry and in turn, Draco.

Quickly, Harry ascended the staircase, making for the Hospital Wing. He only had a vague idea what the 'Essenz der Fee' had done, but Harry knew he had to confront Hermione with it.

The Hospital Wing was thankfully abandoned, save for Hermione, who was sitting up in bed, a selection of books and pieces of parchment spread across her lap. She was scribbling frantically away on her Potions essay, Harry realised as he saw the book she kept referring to. He cleared his throat as he neared her, announcing his presence. She smiled as she saw him and sat back into the pillows, setting her essay aside.

"Harry, it's a little late for a courtesy call, isn't it? I've just sent Ron up to bed. What are you doing down here?"

Harry laughed. The sound was a little too forced, he thought, but Hermione didn't seem to notice anything off. "Don't sound too happy to see me," he joked, taking the seat Ron usually took beside her. Hermione was quite similar to Harry, in the way that she didn't like being made a fuss off when she was incapacitated. Harry knew how trapped and useless she must feel. What he didn't know was why she was hiding such deep secrets from him.

The same reason you're doing the very same to her and Ron, his mind supplied. Neither of them had a clue what was happening between Malfoy and him. I'm just as bad, he thought, but my secret is hardly mine to tell…

"Draco found out the meaning of 'Essenz der Fee', that potion Alaric drugged you with," he said, lifting up the potions journal where it sat in his hand. "It was in Snape's journal."

Hermione smiled. "Really? I'm so proud of you, Harry, you always complained you were rubbish at research but I knew you could do it. I only wish I could've been more use." Hermione threw the closed door to Madam Pomfrey's office a glare. "She comes in regularly to try and make me sleep. But I feel perfectly well now!" When she turned her gaze back to him, however, her eyes betrayed the location of her true thoughts.

Harry dropped his eyes to his hands, knowing what was coming and unsure if he could summon the right words to answer her.

"And Malfoy helped you, you say?" she asked, trying to sound innocently curious. "You've been spending a great deal of time with him, Harry. I overheard Zabini saying that he saw you two watching the quidditch tryouts together." She wrinkled her nose then, as if in disgust at the memory of their classmate's words. "Making vulgar alludes that you were 'shagging' under the bleachers."

Harry flushed furiously. It seemed weeks ago that that innocent moment had occurred. He could still feel the cold heat of Draco's gaze on him, the soft flutter of that barely there kiss…

"Oh Lord," Hermione gasped. "Harry, you didn't?"

"No!" Harry declared. "Of course not! You know bloody well I've never shagged anyone, not even Ginny!"

"Yes, of course but…well we haven't been talking about personal things as much recently," she replied quietly, her voice full of regret.

"I know," Harry murmured, "it isn't just your fault I… I'm trying to deal with it all, I am. It's just after…after Voldemort died and then everything else it's all just…"

Suddenly, Hermione reached out, seizing both of his hands with her own and squeezing firmly. Her eyes shining.

"What you said before about this being hard, Harry everything is going to be hard for you right now. We… We might not always understand what you're going through but I don't want to lose my best friend over that, and neither does Ron. Both of us believe, no, we know that it's worth any hard work just to be as close as we once were." She squeezed his hands harder then, watching him as if fearful of what he might say. "Harry, we can be that close again, can't we?"

Relief, so potent, so overwhelming that it nearly choked him swept through his body. After worrying about being nothing more than a burden to them for so long, he couldn't have asked for a more perfect reassurance. He bit into his lower lip, fighting back the wetness threatening to gather in his eyes. "Of course," he croaked. "Of course we can."

Hermione pulled him into a tight hug then, evidently caring less that she'd pulled Harry so that he was sprawled across her blanket of books. "Oh Harry," she cried, wetness leaking onto Harry's shirt. "I was worried we were losing you, and when you didn't even tell me how close you'd gotten to Malfoy I...I…"

Harry let her cry on him for a moment, he considered it the least he could do, what with the appalling friend he had been when she'd been carrying such an important secret alone. He only wished he'd known earlier. They might never have known what happened, and they would have lost her if not for Draco and Snape.

Slowly, Hermione drew back, wiping her eyes determinedly so she could see him better. "Harry, you have to tell me," she said seriously. "Are you in love with Malfoy?"

Harry paused for a moment, not entirely sure how to answer that. "No, I don't think so," that was true enough. He liked Draco, he felt the most amazing things when they touched, but he didn't think his feelings went any deeper. No, but he was afraid that they might, one day.

"Harry," Hermione began, but Harry cut her off.

"Draco and me, that's complicated territory, Hermione," he explained awkwardly. "I'll…I'll tell you what I can but there are things, secrets that aren't mine to tell. I'll tell you what I can, later. But I came down here to tell you what I've found, Hermione. Don't you want to know what the potion Alaric poisoned you with was?"

Hermione frowned. "Of course, sorry I just got a bit swept up with the emotions. Of course I want to know. So, Essenz der Fee? It sounds exotic?"

"German, according to Draco. It means Essence of Fairies, or something." He stared at Hermione then, she seemed genuinely ignorant of the fact that the potion had something to do with her secret. "Hermione, Essenz der Fee is used in only the most extreme cases, where a child growing within its mother is weak or dying. It diverts the mother's magic and energy completely to the baby, but it's only used where there is no other choice, as it has a tendency to be too potent and inflict the mother with all sorts of side effects, coma, brain damage, even death."

He stared at her fixedly now, watching the comprehension dawn on her face. She knew that he'd worked it out. "It only has an effect on pregnant women, Hermione. And on a pregnant woman in the wrong situation, it can be fatal."

Hermione just looked at him in silence for a long time, before she managed to find her voice. "I couldn't tell you," she whispered hoarsely, "I couldn't tell anyone. I need this year at school, I need to take my NEWTs, I can't afford to take time out now for a baby or everything will be for nothing."

Harry leant forwards, rubbing her hand reassuringly. "When did it happen?"

Hermione shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks, but whether that was purely because of her condition, or because of finally being able to tell someone, Harry wasn't sure. "The end of June, right after you killed Voldemort we… We'd never… We were stupid. Just so happy that everything and everyone was going to be alright and we…we must've cast the protection spells wrong. It was our first time and we were a little…. I found out when we came back to Hogwarts. My magic was so out of control and that combined with my missed periods was just…"

Harry nodded awkwardly, he didn't really want to hear about her womanly visits or about her sex life with Ron, but it was clear she did need to talk. He smiled reassuringly, pulling her into a hug.

"It was a mistake, and as far as mistakes go, a pretty good one. Did you think Ron wouldn't man up to it?"

Hermione sniffled. "He needs this year as much as I do, the good marks in his NEWTs. He wants to make Mr and Mrs Weasley proud. How could I take that from him? And my own parents they…they'd be so disappointed."

Harry had a hard time imagining either of their parents would shun them, but then, Hermione wasn't really in a position to see things clearly. "Why didn't Pomfrey see it when she examined you?" he asked, confused.

"I cast a concealing spell. A complicated one. You kept talking about taking me to the Hospital Wing and I just wasn't ready yet."

"So it was the baby that was making your magic unstable," Harry concluded aloud, "Alaric must've figured it out somehow and then decided on the best way to get to me and Draco. And the Essenz der Fee nearly killed you because it was used when it shouldn't have been. The mother's magic fluctuates so much in the first few months that apparently using the potion then is lethal; I read it in the description of the potion in the journal." He studied his friend's face carefully, seeing, for the first time, just how lost and ashamed she was. "How long were you planning to hide this for?"

It was evidence enough of how distraught she was that she didn't even ask why Alaric would want to get to him or Draco at all.

"I…I wasn't planning, Harry," she replied, "that's just it. I didn't know what I was going to do, so I just tried to act like everything was normal. I will let so many people down if I…"

"All of those people only care about you," Harry interjected. "And I can guess why you might not want the world to know, but I think at the very least you could tell Ron, maybe both of your parents. They may be disappointed, though I doubt it, but they'll still support you. And as for school, well there are ways, I'm certain of it. but you can't go on pretending that this isn't happening, there are hundreds of things you have to be careful of now, in charms, in potions…"

Hermione laid back, running her fingers across one of the books closest to her. "I know, I should tell Ron. I will tell Ron and then…well, I'll have to see, I suppose. I can't think right now…"

"Take as long as you need, but the sooner you come clean with all of this the sooner you can get back to class. You know the only reason you're still here is because we all thought that the poison must be still active in your bloodstream because your magic is still unstable."

Hermione nodded. "Unsteady magic is common in the first few months, since that's when the baby's powers are formed. It settles down at the end of the first trimester."

Harry just sat back; he couldn't offer anything more than his support. This wasn't exactly an area he was expert in. "Maybe just tell Ron and Pomfrey first, small steps, that's what Remus kept telling me when I felt like I couldn't even get out of bed after I…after Voldemort died."

Hermione's face softened then at his words, a sad smile on her lips. "Look at me, making a fuss over school and acting like this gift is a burden," she murmured, looking abashed. She still sounded shamefully as if she weren't sure if the said gift wasn't a burden. Harry wanted to reassure her somehow, but before he could even guess at what he should say, she was speaking once more. "When you're still deeply affected by everything that happened, aren't you?"

Harry shrugged, uncomfortable with the topic and with the pity that was heavy in her voice. "So are you, so is Ron, everyone is still healing. I sometimes think the school will never be the same without Dumbledore…"

"Well of course it won't," Hermione said softly. "Of course everything is different, but Harry, this is a healing period for everyone. It will get better with time."

Harry doubted that things would get better for him, but if they did for everyone else, then he would be happy for them.

"And Harry," she continued, unwilling to let it go despite how clear it was that he didn't want to discuss this.

Harry could see how worn she had become, how gaunt yet determined to succeed. And Ron, possessive and irritatingly protective, over both of them. They were all dealing with the aftermath of the war in their own ways. They had all suffered, but that didn't mean that was something Harry wanted to talk about. And it didn't mean that they would ever understand what he'd been forced to do.

"You've had to do things, feel things that no one else should have," Hermione murmured. "You had to grow up far too quickly, and I can't even imagine what that must've felt like, without even a parent or anyone to guide you. Just as I can't imagine what it must have been like to be forced to kill someone with your own hands."

She paused when his entire body stiffed, bunching as if to flee and rage at the same time. He inclined his head slightly so that his dark locks hung into his eyes, but she angled hers so that he was forced to meet her gaze in spite of that. "Is that why you've grown closer to Malfoy? Because he was there with you? Because he was forced to grow up, to make hard decisions far too early, just like you? Is it that empathy, the shared experiences that have pulled you together? Because Harry I could understand–"

"I don't want to talk about me and Malfoy," Harry cut across her sharply, his fingers curling into tight fists.

Hermione drew back, as if studying him from a different angle would make him easier to understand. "Did you two have an argument?" she asked carefully.

Harry grunted. He wished it were that simple. He could hardly tell her that he suspected Malfoy's spit and blood were fabricating his passionate feelings, now could he? And though she probably knew a fair bit about sex given her situation, he doubted she knew much about what men did in any case. He flushed at that thought. He'd been so busy shoving everything away frantically that he hadn't really given much thought that this was a man that wanted to be his lover, that he had begged to be fucked by a man.

But Draco was harder than Ginny and Cho had been. His body had been cool and firm and unyielding, his lips smooth but demanding and masculine, without an inch of submission in them. He wasn't certain of many things in his life anymore, but it seemed definite that he preferred the feel of Draco against him to Ginny or Cho. That meant he liked blokes, he supposed? Or one, at least. He winced at that, at the possibility that perhaps Malfoy was special.

Or maybe I wouldn't be attracted to him without his weird saliva and blood? He wanted to scream. He just didn't know what was real and what was fabricated by Draco's abilities. He peered up at Hermione from behind his fringe then, only to see her still watching him in his turmoil. A frustrated sigh left his lips.

"I'm just… Things with Malfoy are complicated even without the secret that I can't tell you. But…bloody hell this is awkward." He chewed the inside of his lip nervously, before simply taking a breath and forcing the words out. "I just feel that the feelings he claims to have for me, they can't be real, not this quickly anyway. He says that…that he was thinking about me over the summer but that's not what… Look, when I'm 'with' him, he just… Bollocks. We haven't had sex or anything but there's been kissing and, you know…"

"Heavy petting?" Hermione suggested, a pinkish hue touching her cheeks. Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Y-Yeah, that. And…just every time I…lose myself, Hermione. It makes me say things, do things I can't even…" With a growl of frustration, he ran his fingers anxiously through his messy locks. "It just makes me suspicious of where that intensity comes from, that's all. It's just a bit–"

"Too good to be true?" Hermione supplied. This time, Harry said nothing, he would never admit it aloud but amongst all the other problems, yes, some small part of him was second guessing every pleasure because it was too good to be true. Because every time he'd had anything even half as good as this, it had been abruptly yanked away. That was not all of it, of course there were other things holding back, other voices whispering in his ear, but in essence it was true.

Hermione was talking again. "Harry, that…intensity you speak of, the kind that makes you forget yourself. That's perfectly normal, for men and women."

"Bollocks," he snapped, wondering why she wasn't more bothered by talking about him having sex with a man. It wasn't as taboo, he thought he remembered Draco saying once before. But he wasn't sure whether he was comfortable with the idea, even. Was he even gay?

"Harry," Hermione said unwearyingly. "It's normal to lose yourself in the passion, especially since you've never been kissed or touched like that before."

"What, by a bloke?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

Hermione smiled patiently, as one might to a child that didn't understand something incredibly simple. "By someone connected to you, who understands you. By someone that wants you that badly."

Harry felt his cheeks burn and turned his head to glance out of the large windows. How many times had he found himself in this very room? Staring at these very windows, lost confused. "You talk like you understand that."

It was Hermione's turn to blush then. "Ron is a very passionate man when we're alone. And our first…encounter was passionate enough that combined with the relief of the war's end, it made us both too inebriated to form an adequate protection spell. Obviously."

"Too much information," Harry winced; he really did not want to think of Hermione and Ron together. And he didn't even know where to begin processing what had come from that 'togetherness'. It all seemed a bit surreal, in all honesty, as if this weren't really happening. He'd probably have a shock when he woke up in the morning and found this all to be real. Awkwardly, he cast a glance at Hermione's stomach, still flat under her pyjamas. For some reason, thinking about there being a baby in there made him feel…peculiar. He couldn't process the idea.

"Look, Harry, all conscious thought and sense of morality can fly out of the window when a person is with the one he wants most. Some people are naturally passionate, some are more reserved but with both your and Malfoy's temperaments, perhaps it only stands to reason that you'd both be a little overzealous with your lovers?"

"He isn't my lover," Harry snapped. "Lover implies love. And besides which, why are you so…alright with the idea of me being fucked by a man?" he demanded hotly. Again, Hermione looked as if she were carefully calculating her words before she opened her mouth.

"Because I happen to believe that it's the soul we're attracted to, not the gender. The Wizarding World is more accepting of it as a whole than the muggle world, I think you should've noticed? Wizards, they have prejudices, of course, but not in this. Love lives are generally more…private than in the muggle world; it wouldn't be the done thing to make a public announcement about your love life whoever you were with. Some older men and women keep themselves to themselves about it, straight or not. But by no means would the world spiral into outrage if they saw you kissing a man–"

"I think they'd be right on it if I was caught snogging someone," Harry argued, thinking of the Prophet and all of the times they had meddled in his personal life before.

"Yes," Hermione agreed, "but because you're Harry Potter and they just love to splash your life about like entertainment. Not because you like men. Harry, I'm surprised you haven't noticed, so many people you know quite well are gay and no one even blinks an eye, not even with all the rubbish the Prophet prints."

Harry frowned. "Like who?"

"Hooch, Madam Pince, a third of the students at this school, Dumbledore."

Staring at her incredulously, Harry repeated, "Dumbledore?" stupidly. "But he–"

"You read what I read. I can't believe it passed your notice that Dumbledore was quite obviously Grindlewald's lover!"

"What a load of–"

"Harry," Hermione continued slowly, "don't you see? It's so normal that no one here made spectacle enough for you to even realise something was up. It was implied everywhere, it's there, all around you." She paused then, her hands sliding tentatively down to her still flat stomach, as if this were the first time she had touched it. It probably is the first time since she found out, Harry thought.

"And Harry, in our generation you don't need to necessarily be in love before you become lovers. Cases like mine and Ron's are rare for our age. More often than not you start courting someone for some time before you feel love for them. Courting is the period when your lover is meant to woo you, to make you love them, after all."

Harry grunted and then stood up, shuffling his feet uncomfortably. "I don't like those words, 'woo' and 'court' and 'lover', they… Who immediately decided I was gay? Or that I'm the 'girl' for that matter?!"

"There is no 'girl', Harry," Hermione said patiently. "Only two men, or two women – a top and a bottom. But that can be a role you switch around, take turns between the two of you. It doesn't mean you're a woman if you like the receptive role more. And given your history, you seem to like both men and women."

Harry thought about that. When he had been with Draco things had felt oddly…equal. He had been humiliating himself and begging, of course but they had been kissing and rutting against each other with identical fervour. There hadn't felt like a 'top' or a 'bottom'. And he was still stunned by the revelation of just how many people around them were gay. Especially Dumbledore, who he had been so close to. Or thought I was close to, his mind amended, as he remembered just how much he had found out through the paper and Rita Skeeter's awful book after the man had died.

It stung that he hadn't known, but more than that he wondered how he could not have noticed. He supposed it wasn't really something he had time to notice, with everything that had been happening as he'd been growing up.

"Do we…I mean 'they' hold hands in secret or something?"

"No, Harry," Hermione replied quickly. "No, it's just…well it's customary to respect the intimate rituals of courtship between two people. To be seen in public it's not bad at all, it's just… I'm saying this all wrong, but I want you to understand, just because you don't see lots of men snogging men doesn't mean they're not gay. It's perfectly normal to see that kind of thing, just in school any kind of intimacy is generally discovered quickly, and most students here don't want to be the subject of gossip. It'd be perfectly fine for you to walk down the hall snogging Malfoy's face off or holding his hand if that was alright with you both."

"It's not alright with me!" Harry declared. "I don't want to hold his bloody hand, or snog him!" Much to his annoyance, Hermione seemed to be trying to stifle a laugh.

"Harry, why are you so determinedly trying to deny all of this?"

With a growl Harry dropped down into the bed closest to Hermione, purposefully kicking his heels against the frame. Childish, yes, but it made him feel better. "My whole life has been dictated by others' decisions, others' wants and needs. And until I'm sure these are just my feelings making me act like such a prat–"

"Harry, I think I've already answered that for you," Hermione cut across him imploringly. With a defeated sigh, Harry dropped his head into his hands. He wished he could tell her the whole reason he didn't trust his feelings, that Draco was a vampire. But if she said it was normal to have your head spun like that when it was your first time, what did that mean? Could this still be all fabricated through Draco's abilities?

"Maybe you need to talk to Malfoy about this," Hermione suggested abruptly then, breaking the silence.

Grunting under his breath, Harry just looked at her incredulously. "This isn't like you and Ron, this…it can't be solved by talking, Hermione it goes deeper than that," he tried to explain.

"Perhaps it can't be solved entirely," Hermione began, "but it's obvious that there is a very pivotal part of this that you can't share with me, at least not yet. Malfoy is the only one with all of the information." She had a point there, but Draco was biased, he would probably say anything to get what he wanted. That was the slytherin way, after all. "Give him the benefit of the doubt, Harry. If he helped to brew a potion to save me, he must care for you. I thought you trusted him?"

Damn her logic. Harry did trust him, oddly, he just didn't trust himself. He could feel himself easily coerced to do what Malfoy wished, giving into him, because that's what part of him wanted as well. The suicidal part, Harry thought. The other part didn't know if it wanted to risk it. "Thanks, Hermione," he murmured. "I…maybe I will, thanks though, for listening."

Hermione nodded. "Of course. You can always come to me Harry, about anything, even if it's embarrassing or…or hard to talk about."

Harry flushed a little, not able to even imagine telling Hermione about how he'd writhed in Draco's grasp, begged him to bite him. "You too," Harry said with a smile. His head whipped around as the Hospital Wing door opened. Ron was standing in the doorway. He didn't linger, or stare, however, merely gave Harry an awkward glance, as if he didn't know how to act around him, before closing the door behind him and beginning to cross the room towards them. He was holding an arm full of biscuits with two cups of tea floating behind him. He intended to use the 'late night snack' excuse to buy him a bit longer with his girlfriend before bed, no doubt.

"Do you want me to stay?" Harry whispered. "You know…moral support?"

Hermione gave a slow shake of her head. "No, this…this is something I need to talk to Ron about in private. Go find Malfoy, Harry you need to settle that unease you're carrying around with you."

Harry just got to his feet. It probably would be easier to quell the magic burning in his gut if he could relax, stop over-thinking and worrying for one moment. But that was impossible. For now, he thought, resolute that one day, this would change.

"Oh, you're leaving?" Ron asked, seeming a little upset about that.

"Yeah I…" Harry glanced to Hermione briefly. "I found out what Essenz der Fee was. It's something Hermione wants to tell you in private, so…" he moved as if to walk away then, but Ron caught him by the arm.

"I've been an arse about Malfoy, mate," Ron rushed out quickly. "I'm sorry I just…I just don't trust him. And you're like my family; I just don't want you hurt because you always try to see the best in people."

With a thoughtful, sad smile, Harry replied, "you don't have to trust him, just trust me. And if you're my friend, then stand by to advise me, to pick up the pieces if it does all go wrong. You can't stop me from going through life just in case I might be hurt. That's stupid."

Releasing his arm, Ron rubbed the back of his own neck awkwardly. "It's barmy, I know and I will try not to rub him up the wrong way. But mate, I'll never like him or trust him. I don't think I'll ever stop hating the prick for all of the things he's said and done over the years."

Harry hadn't expected even half as much as that, so it was fair, he supposed. Ron hadn't seen the person he had seen in the dungeon that day, hadn't seen or felt Draco's memories. As far as Ron knew, Draco hadn't changed. Harry supposed that enduring patience was all he had right to expect.

"You two need to talk," Harry said, giving his best friends both a reassuring look. He wouldn't try to shut himself away from them again, that was his silent vow. "I'll see you tomorrow."


He didn't go to find Draco after all, of course, he simply couldn't. All he did was hide himself away behind the closed curtains of his four poster, pouring over Gristlebeck's book. And that was how the light of the next night's early moon found him. It was a Saturday and he had been there all day with the book under his nose. His room mates were all still out, enjoying their evening and freedom to visit Hogsmeade as and when they pleased, no doubt. Ron hadn't returned all night, his bed had remained vacant and Harry wondered whether that was a good or bad sign. His body ached from tiredness and no little hunger, but it was wide awake with the same anxiety that kept him amply distracted from Ron's empty bed.

Yes, he had valuable solitude, and he intended to use it wisely, to discover if Draco's saliva really was the only reason he felt so overwhelmed by passion when he bit or kissed him. He needed to know before he faced Draco again. He would willingly admit his wrongness if it turned out that these were his true feelings, just like Hermione and Draco both insisted, but he wouldn't roll over and beg for forgiveness like a tame dog without reason. He wouldn't say he was wrong or give Draco a chance until he knew for sure that he was indeed wrong.

Gristlebeck's tome was a weighty one indeed, but it held the most interesting and relevant information. He didn't find anything about effects of the vampire's saliva, not right away but there was a huge section on 'the influence' of the vampire. Harry felt a little sickened by it. Apparently one of the first abilities that new vampires were taught was their thrall, their supernatural charm, but more than that. It allowed them to call victims, influence them to do things against their will.

An echo of Draco's words: 'I can make you' whispered into the forefront of his mind. Had that been what Draco had meant? Had he ever used his influence on him? Harry's blood boiled. If he ever found out the bastard had used that on him, he would stake his cold heart – it was one thing to unconsciously inebriate him with his saliva, or force him to drink his blood to save his life. It was another to knowingly take his will away.

I will be no ones puppet, Harry thought venomously, trying frantically to recall if Draco had ever seemed to have used it on him. Gristlebeck's book claimed that the vampire could make a victim forget, however, so would he even know? Grinding his teeth, Harry tried not to jump to conclusions. Draco was still new to his powers, he probably wasn't aware of his influence and if he was, probably couldn't use it properly. But there's a possibility, Harry's mind reminded him. Do you really want to take that chance? He could take your mind, your memory and you would never even know!

Harry found himself unconsciously scanning his body for marks. If Draco had had him under his mercy, he would have surely bitten him. He was too new, he wouldn't have been able to resist. But with each inch of flesh he scanned, his panic swelled as his mind whirled with the possibilities. He could have been vulnerable, weak and helpless and he wouldn't even have known.

With his heart pounding now, in a moment of pure madness, he dropped the book and tore off his shirt and trousers. His breath was coming out in frantic pants as he felt around his chest, his throat, his groin. All of the major arteries. "Accio mirror!" He cried hurriedly, examining himself better in the mirror that flew through the closed drapes around his bed. His skin was no more scarred than usual, however. Thankfully, that was something at least. Even when Draco healed his bite marks or wounds, there were still pinkish marks like pale love bites for a few days. They never hurt but they were sometimes sensitive, and he couldn't find anything like that on his body.

Tilting his head slightly, Harry fingered the permanent mark left at his throat from the first bite. It was a pale, iridescent pink now. Gristlebeck said that the first bite of a vampire on his first remained a claiming mark, a territorial claim to warn others away. It would never completely heal or fade unless the vampire died. Harry sneered at the sight of it, a garish brand, claiming him like cattle.

He thinks he owns me because of it, Harry thought bitterly, recalling how often Draco's eyes dropped to that scar whenever he saw him. It disgusted him. It felt like he was Draco's pet or something! Harry's breath was still heavy, but not with anger and not with panic, now it was an aftershock of that frenzied spell he had used.

"Shit," Harry gasped, dropping back flat on his bed. The mirror still floated in front of him and he stared at his reflection. He was pale, like he was about to be sick. Except he didn't feel sick at all. He felt hot, every inch of him tense as magic pounded its fists against his innards. "Calm down," he whispered to himself, willing his breathing to even out, for the spasms in his core to cease. His fingers curled in the sheets, clenching so hard he felt they might break.

"Oh my God!" he gasped, his body arching upwards, white light radiating from his semi-naked flesh. Suddenly, the hangings around his bed were wrenched open. The mark on his neck throbbed knowingly just as Harry clenched his eyes shut so that he wouldn't have to see Malfoy's face. If he saw it now he'd surely explode with confusion, hatred and lust.

"Go away Draco!" Harry demanded, "I mean it. My magic is – just go! I need to calm it down."

Somewhere above him, Harry heard Draco scoff. "Pity, and I thought those were the sounds of you wanking," Draco mused. Harry cracked open his eyes to see the blond looking directly at the book lying open on the bed by Harry's feet. "See something that distressed you, did you?" the vampire asked.

Harry ignored his icy tone, closing his eyes again, fighting back his swelling magic with all he could.

"You've been using magic again? You idiot!" he heard Malfoy snap, a sudden pressure making the bed dip. When Harry's eyes sprang open this time, Malfoy's face was directly above his. His panic swelled again.

"Get off of me you prick!" Harry screamed, too afraid to physically struggle lest it push him over the edge. A bright glow was emanating from his skin now, skin that was burning up with the sheer force of the magic trying to break through. "It'll kill everyone! Stop pissing about!"

Draco's eyes were bright silver at that moment, fixed on him intently. "I can help, but you won't like it," Draco said carefully, his voice heavy with caution.

Harry winced. It felt like he was being shaken until his teeth rattled. A low gasp of fear and pain ripped from his lips. Then, suddenly, a cold hand was resting flat on his chest, right over his frantic heart. "What are you doing?" Harry wheezed, his breath nearly stolen from him now.

"I've stopped you from exploding before," Draco murmured huskily. "I think… Let me."

"I can't," Harry ground out through clenched teeth. "I can't let you use vampire magic on me. I won't let you!" He had to clench his eyes shut now because the light was so dazzlingly bright across his flesh now that he was afraid he'd go blind.

"I have every reason to want to help you. You swore you would let people help you – this isn't brave, or moral, you idiot. You're going to kill us all because you're too much of a coward to let anyone in!"

"Not everyone, just vampires who want to control me!" Harry roared. "I thought you made it quite clear that you wanted me to leave you alone last night, you said–" But his words were strangled from his body by a choking sound. His body slammed upwards of its own accord in a painful arc. He screamed. Draco's hands were on his wrists now, pinning him to the bed with bruising force.

"Never mind that now, you stubborn Gryffindor! What's changed so much in the last few days that you cannot trust me?!" Draco hissed urgently.

"I can't trust what's real with you and what isn't, that's what!" Harry bellowed. "I won't give you the chance to make me your puppet!"

"There isn't time for this now. Can you at least trust that I want you to live? That I want to live?"

Harry had but a moment to decide, before he swore he felt the magic leaking through the cracks in his every pore. He could feel how much damage the magic inside him could do, he could not let that loose, at any cost. He didn't know exactly what Draco planned to do, but it was better than the alternative, whatever it was. "Do it!" Harry snarled, his words tapering off into an almighty howl. His head flew back and he felt his body crumble.

A hand shot round to support the back of his neck, holding his head up so that he was staring directly into Draco's eyes. They were so vivid now that he could see the flecks of blue within. "Look into my eyes," Draco crooned, his voice a low, husky hypnotising sound. "You will not look away from my eyes." Harry blinked slowly, but otherwise, found himself unwilling to tear his eyes away. Unable to even contemplate the idea.

"Let your breathing calm."

Involuntarily, his rapid breaths screeched to a halt, flowing slowly in and out of his lungs to match the calm overcoming his panicked body. He was perfectly still beneath Draco's form, rooted to the spot by those eyes. Slowly, a cool hand slid back over his chest again, those long fingers fanned out over his heart as the other hand massaged the base of his neck.

"You feel calm, the magic inside of you will not break free. It's calming as well, falling back to sleep in its cage. You are not in any danger."

"Yes, Draco," Harry answered breathily.

"You are not afraid, everything is going to be alright."

"Everything is going to be alright," Harry replied dreamily, not even able to summon the conscious thought to begin to fight this. Even though, in the back of his mind, his true self was screaming. Draco was using his influence on him.

"You hate me, don't you?" Draco asked after an unbearable silence, his voice quiet.

"No," Harry replied. He couldn't lie either under the influence either. It was like Veritaserum and the Imperius Curse all rolled into one, except this was worse. This was calming, soothing in a way that was almost…good. There was a kind touch behind the force, a gentle coercion that frightened him.

"You're afraid of me?" Draco asked then.

"No. Of what you could do to me, if you wanted to," Harry answered, still lost to the hazy fog of tranquillity. With all the fluttering subtlety of a butterfly's wings, the hand on his chest reached up to caress the sharp shape of his jaw, all the while, Draco's eyes staring into the vulnerable depths of his soul. Open to everything and anything he may ask.

"I'm going to let you out of it now," Draco said, looking at him but a moment longer before sliding back slowly to sit beside Harry's legs. Harry remained where he was, breathing calmly, drifting on a cool, calming breeze. Suddenly, he felt Draco's influence ebb away from him like a tide going out. The fog faded and his awareness crept back to the forefront of his mind. As soon as he could think for himself, Harry bolted upright on the bed.

"You bastard," he hissed venomously, teeth clenched and bared ferociously. "You used your fucking vampire influence on me! You forced me to feel what you wanted! How dare you?!" Draco looked away from him and glanced at the mirror still floating there, staring into the empty space beside Harry's reflection, the space where his reflection should be, no doubt. Harry didn't care right now.

"I only did it to save both our necks, to save everyone in this castle, you ungrateful prick," Draco growled. "Would you prefer I let us all be obliterated? Would you have put up such a fight if your Weasel or Granger offered to help?"

"If their help involved controlling me like a mindless puppet, yes," Harry snapped, shivering. He didn't like the feeling of the influence, it made him feel detached from his body, helpless like he was stuck floating out at sea. "You pissed away any trust I had in you by doing that. You know how I feel about being the pawn of others, especially those that claim to care about me. I'm not the wizarding world's little martyr anymore!"

Draco's gaze snapped back from the mirror at last then, dark and furious as he turned it on Harry. "This isn't about that," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "You were in danger, I had no choice if I wanted to save you."

"Oh, my hero," Harry growled sarcastically. "I can't believe I was even sitting here trying to convince myself you wouldn't use the influence on me not even five minutes ago! You want to bend me to suit your needs, just like everyone else out there!" Except Ron and Hermione and probably Remus and Tonks, Harry amended in his head. There were very few he could trust to want to help him for him, he had thought he was beginning to include Draco in that, but now…

Draco reached out then. Harry pulled his feet tight under him out of the way but they hadn't been what Draco had been reaching for. He watched as those long, powerful fingers pulled Gristlebeck's book towards the vampire. There was a prolonged moment of silence between them for a moment, and then…

"This is what had you so upset?" Draco asked. "You were afraid of my influence?"

"I'm not afraid," Harry snarled, "I thought you'd been using it on me and I summoned the mirror to make sure you hadn't been messing with my head to get extra bites!"

Draco sneered. "You'd have noticed a significant growth in my abilities if I were doing that. And besides which, I'd much rather have you consciously aware of my touch. I want to look at the places I touch afterwards and watch you flush from remembering how good it felt."

Harry did flush then, but he recoiled as well. "You're sick and possessive and you're bloody mad if you think either of those things are what I want in a lover."

"Make up your mind, Potter," Draco snapped. "I may not be up to your standard of human but it doesn't give you the right to mess around with my head. Make up your mind what I am to you."

"I will when I find out myself!" Harry retorted hotly. "You think this is fun? That I want to be this bloody confused? I don't. I'd love to know once and for all if the things you make me say and do are all because of your dodgy vampire drool and influence or if I just fancy you that much that it makes me loopy." He glared at Draco contemptuously. "If you have the answers, do let me in on them. But unless you do, don't you dare criticise how I feel. I've had enough of this. I've had enough of thinking I have my head sorted only to find out something that knocks me off my feet again."

He turned his head away then, looking down to where his clothes had fallen and slowly redressing himself. Not only to regain some of his dignity but also to deny Draco the pleasure of seeing him.

"From what I understand of the influence," Draco's voice said neutrally, "I need eye contact, but after the connection is established it will continue until I consciously release you. Your body and mind will obey my suggestions but you will consciously be aware that I am doing it to you. It is meant to be easier to influence a human that has shared blood with me as you have. I can even erase your memory, should I wish."

The vampire's tone was so calm, so careful that Harry paused in buttoning up his shirt to look at his own reflection. He did look like a seething, startled beast that Malfoy had a right to be cautious around. I look mental, he thought, trying not to grind his teeth at his sheer abhorrence to Draco's words.

At least he was honest, his mind supplied. Draco knew him well enough to know that lies would not sit well with him. He wanted the truth, even if the truth was worse. It was his right to hear it, and Draco seemed to know that. He may think I'm an idiot, but he doesn't treat me like I'm too stupid to make my own decisions.

"How many times have you used the influence?" Harry demanded, his jaw set. Draco surveyed him silently for a moment, his fangs hidden once again, unlike earlier. The tension from that argument was still heavy in the air, and Harry was now more than certain that he'd been right to question.

At last, Draco found his voice and forced himself to hold Harry's gaze as he said, "Just once before today." He could see as well as smell the anger bubbling in Harry's blood. Blood that was rising up to colour those cheeks in a furious flush. He didn't know why it didn't unnerve him that he would notice such fine details about Harry's body, but he saw things so differently now that he could only see this as another instinctual change. As instinctual as his fangs extending for a bite.

"Back in the dungeons corridor, when you lost consciousness," Draco began to explain, "the time you woke up in the Hospital Wing. I bet no one could fathom how I managed to stop you from blowing us all to smithereens, could they?" Harry snorted but Draco waited patiently. It had surprised him that the teachers had allowed him to go about his lessons as usual after such an explosion, but he had realised quickly that they had most likely assumed if he, Draco had managed to escape it, then it was not that serious a threat, not so much that Harry should be quarantined at any rate.

"It was…instinctual," Draco continued. "I moved before I knew what I was doing. I used it to stop your impending explosion, but it had risen to such a strong point that you passed out from the pressure and I carried you to the Hospital Wing."

Harry glared at him hatefully. "If your intentions were so innocent and honourable why didn't you tell me about it before now?"

That power, that stubborn fire, it made Draco's fangs itch with want. What other human could match his own passion, his own strength? No other. It just didn't make sense that Harry couldn't see that as well. Pigheaded Gryffindor, Draco's mind snarled, this entire situation of Harry doubting if this was 'real' or not seeming so preposterous to him.

The more he grew into his own powers the more difficult it became to quell the urge to just hold Harry down and prove to him how real this was. He refrained from licking his lips. It was good that he was becoming so good at controlling his body so well. "I didn't realise what it was until I found the time to research it. It felt so raw and yet subtle, I wasn't entirely certain what it was, and once I'd found out, you didn't seem to care for anything I had to say."

"You should know by now that I want the truth even if I might reject it. Half the reason I've endured you this close is because I thought you were the one person who accepted that," Harry replied. Draco hated the evasiveness that was burning in those eyes now. Why was this man so determined to evade this connection between them? Why couldn't he accept that he, Draco could make him feel good?

Glancing to the place in the floating mirror where his reflection wasn't, Draco had to wonder, yet again just how he looked to humans. He was beautiful once, unrivalled by the boys his age. But he had also once been of the purist blood the wizarding world knew. His parents were obviously bothered by how he looked now, but he had assumed it was because of his dirtied blood.

Vampires held high social standing in some places of the wizarding world. He had never seen one but he had heard of them. In positions of power, the lot of them. But what if he had been mistaken in his assumptions of his beauty only being enhanced by his change? What was wrong with him if a red-blooded human man like Harry Potter was striving so hard to escape him?

Suddenly, Harry's voice broke his reverie. "What else have you kept from me?" the chosen one snapped. "What else have you done to fuck with my head?!"

Draco's head whipped back round to Harry so fast that he saw the man jump in surprise. "Nothing, though the brutal honesty has gotten me nowhere, it seems," Draco replied icily.

"Right," Harry sneered disbelievingly. "Right, so tell me straight, what the hell does your spit do to me? Why does it make me incapable of rational thought? I saw what it rendered you to when that vampire bit you in the dungeon, I felt it myself–"

"Do not speak of that night!" Draco snarled, lashing out at the mirror in place of Harry. It flew across the room and shattered into a thousand jagged pieces. "Do not speak of it. I will not remember it." Large, green eyes were trained on him now, as if judging if he would lash out again.

Draco snatched up the book laying open nearby, fuelled by bitter anger to settle this subject once and for all. He looked at the spine questioningly. Gristlebeck, well at least Potter had a reliable source, he thought venomously. Gristlebeck had been one of the tomes he had studied over the summer. Flicking rapidly through the pages, he tossed the book onto the bed in front of Harry so that it lay open on the correct page.

"Read it for yourself, since my word no doubt is worthless. The vampire's saliva is there to take away your inhibitions. It numbs the affected area so that pain inflicted by the bite turns to pleasure. Pleasure so intense that the victim is made hyperaware of touch. In a sense, it is the world's most powerful aphrodisiac. So strong because it needs to make the bite pleasurable for the victim.

"Virgins are even more susceptible because they have never felt pleasure of that sort as a rule. But it does not rob you of conscious will or thought. No more than pleasure does normally. Firsts are meant to become more accustomed to it the longer they are exposed to their vampire–"

"Ha!" Harry snapped, "as if that's something I want to get used to. I don't want that lack of control every time you… I don't want to lose control over myself like that."

"Don't be so bloody stupid," Draco retorted. Harry really had no idea, did he? "It doesn't make you lose yourself. It only has the same effect incredible arousal has, meaning you would feel the same lost in the throes of passion with a human. You'd give up the most basic kind of pleasure man is meant to feel all for control?"

Draco saw a flicker in that expression then, a look that told him that Harry was realising the truth at last. Then, a sigh tore from the chosen one's lips. "It's not that easy for me, after everything that's happened to just give control of my life to someone else," the man explained.

"But that lack of control has nothing to do with my kissing you and me being a vampire," Draco explained roughly, "and everything to do with me kissing you, and you liking it."

"I know," Harry grumbled, not meeting his gaze now. "I understand now, your weird spit thing doesn't work that way. The books I researched over the summer just told me about vampires in general, not about their affects on humans. I didn't know that before."

Draco raised a brow. "And now that you do?" he prompted.

Harry shrugged. "It doesn't really change much. I still find it hard to surrender control to anyone, to lose myself… And I still don't forgive you for keeping the fact that you used the influence from me a secret."

Rolling his eyes, Draco got off of the bed and crossed the room to begin picking up the pieces of broken mirror and pile them together. They had scattered about the room in random places from the force of its landing, but luckily, his keen sight allowed him to see every single piece. "The influence grows more potent as the vampire
comes more into his powers. But if anything, the affect of my saliva on you will lessen over the years. You'll become accustomed to it."

Harry snorted. "Years? You think I want you by my side that long? As soon as you can go any length of time without my blood you can piss off and only return to me for blood once every blue moon. We can have our lives back. I was mistaken to think I wanted more than that."

Draco growled again, pausing where he was crouched over a few more scattered shards of mirror. "You didn't even give it a chance–"

"Chance enough to watch you betray me by using your influence on me," Harry spat. "I don't care for the intentions. I can't be the lover of someone who could take my will away."

The same bloody circles, Draco thought with irritation. "Again, do you realise that a human could easily take your will away with a spell? A muggle could even tie you up and force you to do what they wanted. Even if you claim your life won't be spent with me, you will have to give up control, have to trust someone eventually. Is this about me being a vampire or me being your lover?"

"You're not my bloody lover!" Harry howled in frustration.

"I want to be, and you want me to be as well, though you're so afraid of the worst happening that you won't admit it," Draco drawled. "And I won't use the influence on you again unless you ask me to. I only used it in the first place as a last resort. I can't afford to be seen doing dark magic or using supernatural abilities while I'm at Hogwarts. No one can even suspect what I am until I've graduated."

Harry's expression told Draco that he didn't quite believe what he was hearing, but time would prove Draco's honesty in the end. And he had plenty of time ahead of him.

"I will never ask you to use that," Harry said vehemently. Draco turned back to the task at hand, gathering the mirror fragments strewn across the room.

"Your word doesn't hold much stock with either of us though, now does it?" Draco mused. "You're frantically denying everything to keep me away, out of a determination to be unhappy and alone, because it's safer that way. Because you're afraid this will all end badly. I never thought being afraid would stop Harry Potter from doing anything he wanted. Didn't you say that no one would rule your life from now on? You're letting your fear do exactly that."

"So I'm cautious, can you hardly blame me?" Those words were hot with defensiveness. Draco could feel his panic at the truth of those words pulsing through the room. "You think I haven't learnt what happens when you fall in love? When you let a family accept you as their own? When you try to call a place your home? You get hurt, that's all. As soon as you get used to being with others, you find yourself alone. I don't need that pain. Not again."

There was a thoughtful silence then. One Draco could not bring himself to end. He could feel the way Harry's body shivered with realisation, of just how destructive and foolish his words had been, but also just how defensive and bitter his voice had sounded. After a moment, there was movement at his side. He did not so much as blink when he saw Harry's hands in his eye line, Harry was helping to gather up the broken pieces of mirror and drop them onto the pile Draco had created.

The man had revealed much more than he'd bargained for just then, to both himself and Draco. He wasn't just afraid of opening himself to Draco or a lover in general, he was afraid of that werewolf and his family, his friends, those Weasleys, and he was terrified that the moment he accepted them in his life, he would be left alone again. After all, hadn't that happened to him more than once before?

The war has left scars on all of us that sometimes we don't even see, Draco thought. He listened carefully to Harry's breathing, to his softly thudding heart and waited patiently for him to find his words. Eventually, he spoke. "I know all that is irrational," Harry murmured, "I know it's stupid, but knowing it doesn't change the fact that that's how I feel."

"Naturally, it's something that comes with time," Draco said, "you'll have to push your own boundaries, move past your uneasiness but eventually that irrational discomfort will go."

Draco watched as Harry's body almost slumped in defeat.

"By the time that happens everyone will have given up on me and left anyway," he mumbled, as if not really wanting Draco to hear him. Unluckily for him (in this case) Draco was a vampire.

"The only person that has given up on you is you, Harry. You need to stop retreating into that shell of yours and walk face on towards your problems; the way you walked straight into Voldemort's clutches to save us all!" He stared firmly into Harry's face, even if the man was avoiding his eyes. "Loathe as I am to admit it, they're all better than that and will wait for you. Those worthy of you won't so easily abandon you."

Harry snorted derisively then, although there was the tiniest flicker of amusement in his voice now. "And you count yourself in that do you? As worthy?" But before Draco could answer, Harry let out a hiss of pain. The man brought his forefinger to his lips, sucking at the thick bead of blood welling from the wound the last shard of mirror had created.

Draco's eyes darkened with desire, his mouth swelled with moisture. Instinctually, before he could curb the urge, he had brought that finger to his lips and was lapping carefully at the wound. It was like the most delectable caramel rolling over his tongue and yet different, richer, better. Long after the wound was healed, that finger remained in his mouth, being worshipped by his tongue. It was only when Harry gave a little groan that he was drawn from his reverie of bliss and released that finger.

"I'm not ready to push that boundary yet," Harry whispered out huskily. Yet, Draco thought. He'd definitely heard a 'yet'. His vampire instincts were roaring with desire inside him at that taster of blood, and it was a struggle to push it back from the forefront of his mind, to just nod understandingly instead of throwing Harry back and taking him then.

It was proof of how much stronger he was getting that he could resist such a call. Would his powers ever stop growing? The books had said he would reach his peak after a short while drinking his first's blood and then, over the decades, would gain the strength only age could give. But no one could rely solely on the text books if their first was Harry Potter.

"I've got forever to wait," Draco assured him, his voice thick with want. He stood up then, drawing his wand and turning it on the complete pile they had gathered. "Reparo!" He chanted. The fix was cleaner, almost perfect since they had taken the time to make sure every shard was in range. He looked on it with satisfaction. No one would know the difference. "But right now, we have bigger problems to face."

"One of them being Caius Alaric," Harry murmured, looking at Draco now as if worried for him. Draco was not sure whether he liked that or not.

"I do not yet know whether Alaric is aware you tore him from me the other night," Draco said, his voice devoid of emotion. Any mention of Alaric made him think of all the revenge tactics he longed to use, if only he didn't need to keep such a low profile. "It'll be best if you act normal around him despite…what you know."

He watched Harry's expression darken with what he could only name as a mixture of guilt and frustration. "I know that you can't report him," Harry began, "can't fight back but you could at least tell Snape, he'd sort the bastard out."

Again, Draco was not sure whether or not the protectiveness, the anger on his part in Harry's voice pleased him or not. "I cannot risk Alaric leaking a word about what I am. However, once I have passed my NEWTs I will allow no one to hurt me again without recompense."

Harry turned away from him, as if to hide an odd look in his eyes. "If I catch him at it again, I'll throw the arse off the Astronomy tower and obliviate him just in case he survives the fall. You can't be seen doing those spells, can't have them on your wand, but I'm Harry Potter and I bloody well can."

Unable to help himself then, Draco chuckled. Some of Harry's fire had returned to his eyes as he spoke of defending him. He knew that he liked that. Not that he would ever tell anyone that, not even himself.

Harry felt blood suffuse his cheeks with slight colour. He hastened to move over to his bed and take a seat there to have a chance to hide the blush. Although he thought Draco could somehow smell it, even if he hadn't caught a glimpse. How was it that he was able to drag him through an emotional rollercoaster so easily? Fill him with lust and hate and frustration – everything, from one moment to the next? He didn't even know how it was possible for one man to feel so many things in such a short space of time.

Staring at his feet in silence for a good while, Harry thought about the situation they had found themselves in, just wishing he could end the confusion. Draco permitted him the silence, the pensiveness for longer than any human could have, of that Harry was sure. In fact, he did not speak, even when he stepped towards Harry, his shadow falling over him. Harry awoke from his reverie, but did not move, not even when Draco's fingers rose to brush Harry's messy locks away from his eyes. And his scar.

At that specific touch, Harry did look up and directly into those piercing silver eyes. His breath caught in his throat. Draco's hair was swept back today in a seductive disarray, his pale, pointed face shadowed by the light in a way that made Harry's cheeks burn darker. Those cool fingers swept through his fringe again, stroking the place where his faded lightning scar remained. He felt strangely vulnerable looking up at someone like this, having someone's full attention on such a sensitive part of him. Although it was not precisely a bad feeling.

Shuddering, Harry drew back but a fraction, uncertain of the feelings that were fluttering in his chest at such a simple touch. Draco seemed to recover himself, for he also moved back a little. "Sorry," he murmured.

"No," Harry replied huskily, "I'm sorry – about what I said yesterday, I was… I was out of order. You didn't deserve to get the brunt of my confusion and frustration, I said some things that I didn't–"

Suddenly, two palms had pressed to either side of his throat. Those thumbs caressed the shape of his jaw as Draco dipped down to his level, his face descending towards Harry's. The firm but protective pressure of those hands, the passion in those eyes all gave Harry the impression that this was an instinctive move to protect the view of his precious throat from the view of others. Of course, the fact that no one was there made little difference, and Harry found that again, that possessiveness didn't rankle him as much as he would like.

Then, those lips were against his and all coherency was blown from his mind like dust swept away by the force of a sharp gale. Harry's lashes fluttered with his heart and he couldn't help but gasp into that mouth. But before he had the chance to recover from his dazzled state enough to return the kiss, Draco's mouth had retreated. Those hands remained, that face so close to his that he could taste that breath on his kiss-dampened lips. Those eyes glistened.

"What was that for?" Harry managed to gasp out raggedly. Draco replied first with a flicker of a smile.

"My forgiveness," Draco breathed, holding his gaze for but a moment longer, before releasing him. Harry stared up at him as the blond took several steps back, and the chosen one tried to keep the confusion and disappointment from his own face.

"Errr, didn't Snape spread it about that you were away from Hogwarts?" Harry asked, only just remembering in his search to find something, anything to say to break the silence. "Wouldn't it be a bad idea for anyone to see you about the castle?"

Draco raised a brow. "It is ridiculous to assume that anyone, even a vampire can stand to be trapped in the same dark rooms for days on end. I needed a change of scenery before I went mad," Draco replied, although his tone was a tad evasive, as if that were not the only reason he was here. "Besides which, I'm faster than the human eye now, when I choose. No one will see me unless I want to be seen."

Harry nodded lamely, it was shocking just how powerful Draco was becoming, and so quickly. I suppose with such potent magic swimming through my blood, the blood that he drinks, I can't really be surprised if that magic helps him to grow in power. It made sense. There was a sense of satisfaction at the thought that at least one good thing was coming out of all this. He was glad that he could help Draco, it was a start, after all the blond had done to help him.

"I know what you mean, about the room, I mean," Harry mumbled, remembering being locked in that cupboard or the bedroom of Privet Drive for weeks on end at times. What a pitiful childhood he had lead.

"You're Harry Potter," Draco replied, "you are no prisoner, of anyone or anything. You have always been able to come and go as you pleased." He sounded confused, and Harry wondered just what fantasy home life Draco had imagined up for him in place of reality.

"Now, yes," Harry said with a bitter smile. "Let's just say my relatives hated all things magical and took extra care to keep my abnormality, sometimes my existence from everyone. Even myself." He blinked then, hearing the words leaving his lips and wondering why on earth he had spilled such personal information to Draco. About something he had only ever discussed with Ron and Hermione on the rare occasion. He bit his lip, hearing his voice back in his head and disliking how easily it had all toppled from his lips.

"I'm well shot of them now, of course," he added hastily. "Never have to see them again and like you said, I can go where I please."

Draco took a step closer, his eyes locked with Harry's suspiciously. "I can smell you, you know. I can smell a lie and I can smell a half-truth just as well." He punctuated his words by setting his hands down either side of Harry's lap, his body leaning in towards his. Harry swallowed, glancing away to the side to avoid that gaze once more.

"Were you abused?" Draco asked when Harry said nothing for some time.

Harry winced. "No. Not like that, neglected, if anything. I never got presents for birthdays or Christmas, or anything really, and if I did it was only ever a broken or tattered hand me down of my cousin's. They made me do a lot of chores, my cousin used to bully me when we were children. I wasn't always allowed to eat as much as I'd like either but that was it, I wasn't beaten or tortured or anything you seem to be imagining."

Draco leant in closer, his eyes smouldering and bright from the blood he had taken from Harry last night. "I don't have to imagine anything. I saw it all, all of it when we shared memories, feelings. You saw mine and I saw yours," Draco revealed. The more he explained, the more Harry wished he wouldn't. Harry's face dropped with horror. He had seen!

"Yes," Draco continued, obviously able to see the thoughts written on his face. "I saw it all. Evidently you weren't aware of how much I saw or you wouldn't have tried to play it all down, or leave out the most important parts." He glared at Harry accusingly. "Locked in a bedroom with bars on the windows? No food, and when there was food there was never enough. Living in a cupboard for years?"

Harry scowled. "You're making it all sound worse than it was," he insisted. "I was unhappy, in pain even sometimes but I was never hurt. Neglect, like I said. Not abuse."

"One is just as bad as the other," Draco snapped. "Both are punishable offences, even in the muggle world, surely? You are just so used to it all that you can't see how awful it was. Just because you survived doesn't mean it was any less of an offense. You survived the killing curse, it doesn't make it any less of a crime!"

Grinding his teeth, Harry forced himself to meet Draco's eyes at last. He squirmed out from under the vampire and got to his feet. The pleasant feeling he experienced from being towered over like that had dissipated somewhat now. "I know what they did was wrong, I'm not stupid, you know. I know they were awful and I know that I didn't deserve it. But it's in the past now, I don't need to dredge up all that, Christ," he ran his fingers through his messy hair in frustration.

"I don't even know why I tried to empathise, why I shared that with you. It was obviously a mistake. I just thought you would feel better knowing that I understood, that's all. My past is exactly that. The past. Leave it be, Draco, as I have." With that, he snatched up his jumper and cloak and made for the door. He needed some fresh air. And there are still things to do, he reminded himself. In the fleeting time it had taken him to pick up his cloak and jumper, however, Draco had put himself between Harry and the door.

"Don't be such a drama queen, Harry," Draco said. "You saw just as many personal memories of mine as I saw of yours. Neither of us could control it, it was a stage of the bond we share, brought about because you willingly gave yourself to me."

Harry winced. "Now who is being dramatic? You make me sound like a maiden for the sacrifice. I willingly snogged you, I might have even willingly rubbed off against you, you needn't make it sound poetic or anything to try and seduce me."

Draco smirked at those words, taking a step closer and tilting his head just enough that Harry could see the way the light played across those fine cheekbones, along the pale column of his throat. Harry unconsciously licked his suddenly dry lips. Silvery orbs followed the motion with rapt attention.

"Everything about this, about us is poetry in motion," Draco breathed, "And it's a bit soon after the last time I forgave you to be requiring it again – do you really want to start an argument over something we both have no control over?"

Harry glared venomously at him, raising his chin in defiance. "Whether I end up choosing to be your lover or not, concern of you being angry with me won't stop me from expressing my dislike of something. I don't want to row with you, but I can't help but not like the fact that you came to know private things about me that I hadn't chosen to share with you."

Draco's smirk only broadened at that. "But you just a moment ago, you were divulging that information of your own free will regardless."

Harry's glare turned into a more disgruntled grimace. He wanted to say that he probably wouldn't have told him that much, but it would only cause another argument and what was done could not be undone. And like he said, neither of us did it on purpose, Harry reminded himself with a deep sigh.

"It's in my past, that's all. I don't need or want to dredge all of that up so I'd appreciate it if you just consider yourself grateful that you're one of the few people that know about that part of my life, and leave it at that."

Draco now wore the expression of a man who was far too pleased with himself; with the fact that he was privy to some of Harry's deeper secrets, that he was one of the few who was permitted this close. He's smug knowing that he's important to me, Harry realised. I suppose I can't blame him for that. Everyone wanted to feel significant to those they cared for, after all. He himself had been guilty of feeling pleased that Dumbledore had been focused on him more than any other student, despite knowing where that attention had originated from.

"Why does the blood bond between a first and vampire allow us to share memories and thoughts like that anyway?" Harry asked then, "what's the point of it?"

"When you give yourself to me willingly, you are entrusting me all of you, a First is often the vampire's most precious, after all."

Harry snorted at that. Draco ignored him and continued.

"I don't know exactly why it happens, but I for one find it intimate beyond anything any mortal couple can achieve." His eyes were hooded with arousal now, his voice low and husky. "When we are connected that way, we are closer to each other than any human couple can even dream of. I feel what you feel, see what you see, remember what you remember. Two bodies and minds perfectly intertwined, it gives me a sense of unrivalled pleasure and warmth and security all at once." He gave Harry a challenging stare then. "Do you deny you feel the same?"

Clearing his throat uneasily, Harry found a particularly interesting patch of wall to fix his gaze on. He really wished he was in a position to lie. "Of course not," he murmured awkwardly, "I've never denied that I felt like that, only questioned why I felt it."

Suddenly, Draco was directly in front of him, his hand rising to run the backs of his fingers down Harry's gently. Harry shuddered again.

"And are you clear on that front now?" Draco breathed.

Harry nodded. "Yes. But I still haven't decided what I want to do, and I will never forgive you if you use the influence on me again."

Draco smirked again. "Never again, until you ask, that I swear."

Harry rolled his eyes. "It'll be a cold day in hell before I ask you to rape my mind like that again," he said bluntly, pulling his cloak on that he had picked up earlier and tying the clasp. He'd made up his mind now, he had things to do.

"Where are you going?" Draco asked, a brow raised questioningly despite the disappointment ebbing at his words. He's lonely, Harry thought, knowing how isolated the blond must feel, stuck in that room all day, not even able to have Snape for company, since the man had his duties to attend to.

"The night is still young, I need to get some things from Hogsmeade," he explained evasively. The shops stayed open late on a Saturday, they all knew this. But he didn't want any of his classmates to know what he was after there; just as well they were all off getting pissed in the Three Broomsticks.

"You're being purposefully vague," Draco said. "What is it you aren't telling me?"

Harry gave him a meaningful look. "I need to fetch a few bits and it's not exactly something I want the rest of our year to hear me enquiring about. That's all. There's no secret."

"Then I will come with you," Draco said quickly. "You can't use your wand without losing control, you can't protect yourself right now. Let me come with you."

Harry winced. "I'm not a helpless child–"

"Those wolves and their masters are out there somewhere still," Draco snapped, "You can't go out there alone. Whatever it is you want from Hogsmeade isn't worth your bloody life, surely?"

Harry glanced away from him distractedly. "Is this you wanting my company or you insinuating I can't take care of myself?" he griped.

Draco snarled under his breath. "Don't be a prat, Harry, you know as well as I that you're as far from helpless as humanly possible. You're so far from helpless that if you try to lift a finger to defend yourself you could blow us all to smithereens!"

"So that's a bit of both then," Harry replied flippantly. "Look, even if you wanted to come with me for the right reasons, no one can see you anywhere near Hogwarts, Draco."

"As you said," Draco breathed, "my reasoning stems from a bit of both sources. I've been smuggled away in that room all day, thinking of you and I will not let you fob me off now."

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably under that very personal revelation, under that forceful gaze. Draco had been thinking about him – all day. He couldn't help but feel his insides flutter at that. Who had ever spent that much time thinking about him in such a way?

Clearing his throat awkwardly, he finally found his words. "You'll still be seen," he murmured, although his voice was half-hearted now. Would it be so terrible for Draco to come with him? Did he really want to escape the blond's company?

"Are you a wizard or not?" Draco replied derisively. "There are ways we can venture outside without being recognised."

~To Be Continued…