Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and am not gaining any sort of profit from writing and publishing these on .
Author's Notes: I'm Sorry I'm springing this one up while I'm still writing the other one. I'm just so frustrated that I couldn't write anything at the moment, and my mind begged for something else. So here you go, on with the story!
HP
Harry had taken to staring at the stars once he figured out how to sneak out at nights without being noticed by the Dursleys. Somehow the cool summer air and the tickle of the grass reminded him of the back yard at Grimmauld Place, and how he and Sirius used to sneak out themselves. Sirius would turn into Snuffles and gambol around Harry as he lay back in the yard, and roll over to relish the feel of grass combing his skin. Harry would laugh when Sirius made a fool of himself and licked Harry's face. He'd be grossed out and Sirius would bark happily ...
Even after two months the memories plagued him, and he once again found himself with tears. Wiping at them angrily, he sat up and buried his head in his hands. The wind created waves along the grass, brushing against him softly. The image of Sirius' eyes dulling out as he fell into the Veil was indelibly etched into his mind.
And then a hand touched his shoulder.
Harry jumped; physical training from the DA honed his skills so much so that it was second nature for him to barrel roll and whip his wand out in a flash.
He still had tear streaks on his face, but they were coming from wary, frustrated eyes. He didn't ever want anyone to see him cry—nobody ever saw him cry apart from the Dursleys and Dumbledore—and the presence of someone in the Dursleys' back yard instantly sent a spark of anger and panic through him.
"Harry Potter. There's no need for alarm," the intimidating figure said in an unmistakably male voice, as he held his hands up. He donned a cloak that covered his entire body, only letting his face be seen.
"Who are you?" Harry said, in as much of a commanding voice as he could muster without crumbling.
"I am ... a friend."
"Incarceous!" Harry said, and ropes shot out of his wand and bound the intruder. He remained standing however, and he didn't struggle in the ropes.
"You could be a Death Eater," Harry said, getting on his feet and sizing up the intruder.
"You shouldn't have done that. You're still underage."
"What?" Harry said, his eyebrows knitting together.
"You're underage. Meaning, you still have the Ministry trace on you. You do any magic and Aurors will come after you."
Harry had not thought that out, and it got him more frustrated than he was already.
"Who are you? And what are you doing here?" he demanded again, channeling his anger on that instead.
"My name is Virgil. I was sent by my master to capture you."
Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "Well, you're not doing a very good job, are you?"
Virgil quirked his lips in amusement. "No, I'm not."
His eyes turned serious as he looked at Harry. "You were upset. I wasn't about to stun you and drag you off like that."
Harry colored slightly, and cocked his head to one side. "Who is your master? He wouldn't happen to be Voldemort, would he?"
Harry noticed Virgil flinch slightly at the name. "No, my master is not Voldemort. I'm not a Death Eater, either. Master Lorcan sent me. He thinks you are in danger.'
"Danger? All my Wizarding life I was in direct danger. What makes your master think that?"
"Just ... look, would you let me capture you already?"
Harry raised an eyebrow. "And why would I let you do that?"
"Because," he smiled, and Harry was taken aback for a second. "I could save you."
Fangs. Unmistakable fangs of a vampire shined from Virgil's rosy mouth, and Harry, to his own surprise, wasn't afraid.
Virgil's head turned swiftly to the trees. "Harry, release me. The Aurors are here."
For all Harry trained for, his head didn't snap back to the reality of the situation quicker than it would have.
"Harry!" Virgil yelled.
"What's all the ruckus out here!" Vernon Dursley was wedging himself out of the kitchen back door. "Boy! What are you doing out at this time of the night?"
Lights flashed from the trees, and a few curses made it's way towards the two, narrowly missing them and catching the grass, ripping out patches of it from the earth.
"Hurry!" Virgil cried again, now trying to worm himself out of the ropes.
"Oh, right!" he said the counter spell and the ropes vanished, and Virgil whipped out a wand of his own.
"Everte Maxima!" Virgil said, throwing as much force into the spell. It sent a wave of magic that went through the trees and hit the robed figures emerging, knocking them on their feet. He then swiftly took Harry in a hug, which alarmed Harry for a second, and they sank into the shadows.
They emerged from the shadow of an oak five blocks down, and Harry saw the Dursley's house explode. Above the scene Harry saw the familiar glowing green symbol of the Dark Mark—an eerie skull with a fiery snake for a tongue.
"Death Eaters!" Harry said in shock.
"Told you. Danger," Virgil winked at Harry, and threw the boy behind him.
"You said they were Aurors —Hey! What are you—"
"I'm kidnapping you. This time I'm gonna do it right," he smirked as he fished a necklace from inside his robes, and said a word to it. It glowed, and they were gone.
HP
Harry was still struggling from Virgil's strong grip when they Portkeyed into an unfamiliar room.
"Hey! Let me down!" Harry demanded, and he as unceremoniously dumped onto a bed.
"Relax! I'm not going to hurt you, remember?" Virgil said, holding his hands up again.
"Where'd you take me?" Harry asked, looking around the room. It was pretty generic, the place, with a bed, a closet, a table and chairs.
"We're at the Leaky Cauldron. Don't worry. You're fine now."
Harry was breathing heavily, a bit of adrenaline coursing still through his veins. Death Eaters had magically bombarded the Dursleys house. They couldn't have survived it. He had also tripped the Trace Charm, so that would mean Aurors, and soon the whole Wizarding World will know he's missing.
"How could they attack me? I—Dumbledore said I'm safe there!"
Virgil scoffed. "You really think Dumbledore has your best interests at heart at the moment? Please."
"Of course he does! He—well," Harry stopped, and he knew he'd be stupidly looking for answers to spit out and counter Virgil if he kept running his mouth. Why exactly was he contesting the idea that he had been mulling over for the past two months? Was it because somebody else said it to his face rather than hearing it in his thoughts and just dismissing them?
"'Well' indeed. Tell me, how was your summer, Harry? Was it all honey and roses?" Virgil asked mockingly.
Harry's expression slowly changed from relentlessly stubborn to dawning comprehension and hurt.
Virgil sighed and sat down the bed, next to Harry who was staring at the floor, lost in his thoughts, mouth trembling slightly.
"I'm sorry. Look, you're staying here for a while. I have your owl and your trunk with your things right here. You can't stay with them anymore. It's not good for you."
It was the second time that night that Harry found himself crying, but at least it was in the presence of a comforting shoulder.
HP
"What are you doing?" Virgil asked when he emerged from the shower, wearing only a towel.
Harry scratched a few more lines down the parchment. "I'm writing to someone. You don't mind if I invite a friend, do you?"
Virgil's face turned serious again, and Harry looked up from the parchment. "Fine. As long as the person could be trusted."
Harry stared at Virgil for a second too long and hastily brought his eyes from the flat contours of Virgil's stomach back to the parchment, scribbling furiously while blushing.
"They've been calling you the Chosen One. And those who aren't Death Eaters, but are sympathizers to the Dark Lord's goals, want you dead as well." There was a tone of forlorn in Virgil's deep voice.
"That's a comforting thought," Harry said sarcastically.
"But, if you should know. The Order isn't to keen on keeping you alive, either." Virgil donned a wool shirt and fished out some trousers from his own trunk, before going back inside the bathroom to change.
Harry was flummoxed. The Order wants him dead? Why would they?
"What do you mean? The Order needs me for that reason itself—they need a Chosen One!"
Harry wondered how old the vampire was, then resolved that that would be stupid to ask, because they don't age. But Virgil seemed to be quite ... fit, Harry failed not to take note, and he wanted to ask anything at all just to hear that low voice again.
Virgil came out of the shower fully dressed, rubbing a towel over his shaggy, dirty blonde hair.
"Master told me that that isn't the case. They find you a threat, easily succumbing to the Dark Lord's manipulations."
Harry was overcome with a deeper sense of loathing for Dumbledore, and betrayal from the rest of the Order. "When will I meet this master of yours?"
"Master would come to see you any day now, Harry. Best be prepared," Virgil said casually, looking out the Muggle London side window.
"What does your master— Lord Lorcan, is it?—want with me?" Harry asked, his eyes fixed on Virgil's form.
"He wants to make a deal. A ... proposition, of sorts, regarding the tide of the war. It's very crucial that you meet with him."
Silence reigned over the room for a minute as Harry, revised his letter, and then tied the letter to Hedwig's leg. The white owl gave an excited hoot as he was set free to deliver the letter, and Harry closed the window to the room and faced Virgil again—he was looking at Harry in a very normal way, yet Harry felt his skin crawling as Virgil looked him over.
When Harry couldn't take the silence anymore, he made to ask, "How—How old are you, Virgil?"
Virgil raised his eyebrows as he smiled at Harry. "I can't be more than twenty-one. Recently turned, actually. But I was bitten at seventeen."
"Oh," Harry said. No wonder he looks quite young. Wait ... stop it with those thoughts, Harry!
"Why are you shaking your head like that?" Virgil asked, amused. Virgil had this uncanny shade of yellow-orange as eye color, that glowed into vivid and deep orbs when they focused on something.
Harry pushed his slipping glasses back up his nose, blushing as he did. "I—nothing."
"No, really! What is it?" Virgil pressed, walking towards Harry and smirking.
"It's nothing!" Harry cried as he ran for the door.
He remembered putting on a glamour in time before he reached the bottom of the steps, only to run into an all-too-familiar blonde head.
"Merlin, watch it!" Draco Malfoy said, and Harry almost instinctively retorted after his butt hit the floor.
"Uh, sorry," Harry said, glamoured up as some brown-haired teenager.
Malfoy sighed. "It can't be helped, I guess. Be careful next time."
Malfoy held a hand for Harry to grasp, and Harry looked taken aback for a second before taking it. Standing up, he analyzed the blonde git.
Malfoy seemed the worst he did for wear. His hair was a mess, not like the usual slicked-back-and-flawless way but rather all over the place, and he was wearing less-than-grandiose clothing. Harry never took Malfoy for a person who wears Muggle jeans. If he did, he doesn't see the blonde as someone who wears tattered, old ones that made Harry think Malfoy had a blubbery cousin too, where he gets hand-me-downs from. But there he was, wearing them, along with a simple shirt and trainers. In short, he played the part of 'little shit' quite perfectly in his current state. Harry found himself liking Malfoy's new look.
But the bigger change was in Malfoy's expression. It wasn't high and mighty like it used to be, but rather troubled and confused. It made Harry think something monumental must have happened to the Slytherin for a change that drastic to have happened.
Malfoy nodded to Harry and made a dash up the stairs, disappearing into a room.
Harry did not understand why Malfoy would be staying in a place as dingy as the Leaky Cauldron, and resolved to investigate.
Embarrassment aside, Harry returned to their rooms, where Virgil was practicing spells on a dummy he conjured.
"Back so soon? Where did you run off to?" Virgil commented, throwing a powerful Expulso towards the dummy, which slammed against the wall and smashed. It quickly rebuilt itself back a few seconds after.
"Listen. I'm going out without a glamour—well, not going out. Just across the hall. I know someone there. Is it alright with you?"
Virgil seemed to be internally debating whether to consider Harry's request, but decided to nod jerkily instead.
"I'm coming with you. For safety."
Harry rolled his eyes. "That's fine, oh mighty bodyguard."
Virgil's features softened as he chuckled.
It was then that Harry found himself knocking on Malfoy's door, next to a none-too-wary Virgil. Movement came from inside the room, and the door was flung open, revealing a very distraught Malfoy.
"You!" In a blink of the eye he had his wand out and a curse out of his mouth.
"Defodio!"
"Protego!" Virgil countered, and a translucent blue barrier came between Harry and Malfoy.
"Reducto!" Draco cast, and the shield exploded into dust, but Harry had already cast a forceful Expelliarmus, causing Malfoy's wand to shoot to Harry's hand.
Another Incarceous and they had Malfoy bound and on the floor.
"What do you want, Potter? What are you doing here?" he spat.
"I want answers," Harry replied cheekily, and moved Malfoy to the bed with his wand.
"Find something amusing, Harry?" Virgil said, sitting on one of the chairs.
"I just find Malfoy tied and on a bed funny."
"What? You crazy bastard," Draco said, struggling against the ropes.
"So," Harry said, approaching with less vehemence than he was used to. "What happened? Why are you living here in the Leaky Cauldron?"
Draco looked torn between wishing himself dead and spilling his guts out.
"I ran away," Draco said easily.
"You're lying. Tell me," Harry pressed, sitting on the bed. Draco's face showed turmoil, and then the blonde sighed dejectedly.
"I—was kicked out of the Manor."
"Hmm. Why?" Harry questioned, as Virgil started playing with a stray string on his shirt.
"Because ... I refused the Dark Lord," Malfoy conceded.
Harry's eyes widened a bit, but then something unexpected happened. He found himself smiling.
"That's ... good, Malfoy. You're good."
He released the ropes and let Malfoy sit up.
"What in Merlin's name are you talking about, Potter?"
Harry hesitated. "I mean, you know. You have no one else to turn to, I take it?"
Malfoy stared at Harry. "Are you mad?"
"No, I'm making sense for once. What do you say to allying yourself to me?"
"With you? That's like my declaring fealty to the Light side!"
Harry stood up, and crossed his arms. "Well, no. It seems I'm not on the Light side anymore."
Malfoy's eyebrows shot up. "What? So you're Dark now?"
Harry shook his head. "I'm neither. Grey perhaps. Or teal. I always liked teal."
"You're insane, Potter," Malfoy exclaimed.
"That's the third time you called me bonkers, Malfoy. Call me Harry instead."
Malfoy stared at him again, as if leeks had jutted out from his ears. "We're really doing this?"
"I guess so," Harry nodded, and smiled.
"Alright, Harry. But it will take some time for you to earn calling me by my first name," Malfoy said jokingly.
"That's fine. I'll call you Dray, 'til then."
"Did you just give me a nickname, Potter?"
"Yes, Dray."
"Stop calling me that! It's plebeian."
"Ehem. If you two don't mind, I'd like to formally introduce myself," Virgil casually threw in from across the room. He stood up, intimidating in his presence, and smiled, albeit a bit viciously. At this Draco gasped, and Harry rolled his eyes at Virgil. It seemed as though Virgil has a habit of making people know of his vampiric existence by smiling.
"My name is Virgil d'Eath," he said, standing next to Harry and glaring. "And I'm, you know, a vampire. A fanged vampire. A fanged, magic wielding vampire who would so much obliterate you if you made the wrong decision of hurting Harry."
"That's one way to break the ice, uh, thanks, Virgil," Harry said as he rolled his eyes once again.
"Roll those again and they'd roll back into your head," Virgil teased, changing expressions in a snap.
"Ho-kay, this is weird. Why are you with a vampire, Po-Harry?"
"Long story," Harry muttered, a clear indication that he didn't want to talk about it. Virgil put a hand on his shoulder.
"I think we should go back to our rooms. I'll fill you up on the information then," Virgil said, guiding Harry out the door and motioning for Draco to follow.
"I'm Malfoy, by the way. Draco Malfoy," Draco tried to act friendly.
"Yes, I know quite a bit about your shady Father," Virgil said, keeping his tone as neutral as possible without cracking Harry's shoulder as they walked down the hall.
"That's ... good? I guess." Draco could describe the situation in many, colorful, disturbing ways. 'Good' was most certainly not one of them.
HP
Once Draco was filled in, which took all night, they had Tom move Draco's rooms to the one next to theirs for easier access. The next morning, Malfoy had initiated a bonding ritual, with Virgil as a designated bonder.
"I, Draco Lucien Malfoy, herefore swear fealty to Harry James Potter, swearing servitude and good will, in exchange for his protection, until his or my life ends by time's hand, or my own, should I break my oath."
They were then discussing many Disillusionments and disguises to keep themselves hidden from the Wizarding World. After all, Both of them are wanted dead or alive, most probably dead. And Virgil was a vampire, so, there.
"So, let me get this straight. The Death Eaters want to kill you because of your 'traitorous, cowardly exit from the clutches of the Dark Lord'?" Virgil asked, sneering.
"Well, if you put it that way. It does sound like I deserve to die for leaving them," Draco said offhandedly. He wasn't taking offense regarding anything Virgil had thrown at him so far, and for that Harry was highly amazed. How much Draco really has changed he is yet to find out.
"Oh, shut it, Virgil. Draco, you were very brave for leaving those bastards," Harry said firmly.
"Thanks, Potter," Draco replied, raising a glass to salute him. Virgil glared some more.
"Oh, stop it, Virgil. Draco's fine. He's not going to AK me on the spot."
"Yes, but—"
"No."
"He might—"
"Drop it," Harry warned, and Virgil mumbled something entirely rude and sulked in his chair.
"Now, one of my best friends is coming here by Muggle bus," Harry said.
"Oh, it couldn't be Weasel, then. Must be the Mud—"
Harry had forcefully clapped a hand over Draco's mouth and glared fiercely.
"If you ever mention that word to her I would juice your balls, Malfoy."
Draco nodded fearfully, covering his bits with his hands.
"Fine! Granger, then." Harry nodded.
"I've filled her in on minor details, meaning she doesn't know I'm with you, Virgil," he looked at the vampire, "and much less that she knows you're here," he glanced at Draco. "Meaning, if she's still under the Order's influence, we can incapacitate her and modify her memories."
"Ooh! We're hexing Granger. It's Hogwarts all over again!"
"That is, if she's uncooperative, Draco. Don't go off shooting curses at her when she arrives. She can own your arse in a snap."
"I'd like to see her try," Draco said, sniffing.
After a very strained lunch where Virgil wouldn't relent glaring at Draco's pointy face, at a quarter to two, a knock came from the door.
"Who is it?" Harry said in an altered pitch.
"It's Hermione. Hermione Granger?" the telltale sound of Hermione's voice echoed through the room. Draco was giggling uncontrollably under the bed, and Virgil was in the bathroom.
"What did we use to save Buckbeak and Sirius?" he asked through the door.
"We used a Time-Turner, Harry, and rescued Buckbeak from McNair, and used him to get Sirius."
Harry opened the door and was smothered with brown, bushy hair.
"Harry! I'm so glad to see you!" Hermione cried. She was really crying, tears brimming in her eyes, and Harry took a moment to look at her confusedly.
"I didn't understand at all—I heard a house on Privet Drive exploded, and I just knew—Oh, Harry! I'm glad you're safe!"
He sat her down on the bed as she fussed over his health and his hair.
"Hermione, I need to tell you something—"
"All right, but first I have to tell you! I was at the Order yesterday, and well, something shady's afoot."
"What do you mean?" Harry had a feeling he knew where she was going.
"They were going on about ensuring your safety in your relatives' house, and were planning ways of penetrating the charm, but then Ron said," she sniffed, and more tears bloomed from her eyes, "Ron said you don't consider that place a home anymore. That tipped them off somehow, and then—"
"—then I got attacked. By hooded figures," Harry finished for her. Harry laughed then, a sick, humorless laugh.
"Who else would know that the protections are gone, but the Order? So they really do want me dead," Harry said, shaking his head at the absurdity of his trusting Dumbledore.
"More than likely. But they kind of caught me eavesdropping on their conversation—"
Harry's eyes widened. "What? So what happened?"
"I blew part of the house down with Bombarda. They chased me up to the top, and I blasted the roof open. Molly would have none of it, and tried to k-kill me, but I cast a coughing curse on the attic floor, and levitated myself so that no one could cast anything while I figure out a way to get out. Ron almost got me with a dagger, but I managed to avoid it. And so I thought desperately, and in that panic—"
Hermione disappeared from the bed and a flamingo appeared, startling Harry. As soon as the pink feathered bird appeared it vanished, to be replaced by Hermione again.
"I discovered my Animagus form!" Hermione said, ending her story with a teary laugh.
"That's great news, Hermione!" he said sincerely as she hugged her again.
"But now, I really have something to tell you—"
"Gotcha!" Someone under the bed exclaimed as he got hold of Hermione's foot. She shrieked, and then jumped on the bed.
"Who is that?" she asked Harry, and Draco was chuckling furiously from under the bed.
"It's ... Draco."
"What? Malfoy?"
"Yes. He's on my side now," Harry stated. Hermione stared at him in the similar way Draco had with their encounter.
"Bwahaha, the look on your face, Granger!" Draco cried as he crawled out from under the bed. He was laughing so hard he was clutching at his sides.
"Oh, very funny, Malfoy!" Hermione said indignantly.
"Well, yes. That's half of what I was gonna say, actually. Draco's sworn fealty to me."
"So ... he's technically your servant now?" Hermione smirked.
"Watch it, Granger," Draco warned, whipping out his wand.
"Oh, really, Draco. We've been through this. No hexing."
"But you said this was half of what you were going to say, Harry. What's the other one? You're not going to tell me there's a burgeoning romance between you and Malfoy, are you?" she said jokingly, which was met with much protest.
"Whaa? Of course not!"
"Potter? That's entirely absurd beyond comprehension!"
"I certainly hope not!" growled a third party, which emerged from the bathroom looking thoroughly irritated. Hermione gaped at him in surprise.
"Ah, Hermione. This is Virgil. He's a—"
"Vampire! I know. The gaunt features and the pale skin alerted me," Hermione said.
"Of course she knows," Draco said mockingly, throwing his hands up in the air and rolling his eyes.
"But what is he doing here?" Hermione asked, curious.
"He's—" Harry made to answer, but Virgil beat him to it.
"I'm here to protect Harry from harm, at the very least until my Master comes," Virgil said curtly, standing by Harry once again.
Harry for the umpteenth time deigned to make his eyes roll, and once again Virgil called him to it. They went off to explain the situation to Hermione, who was firing off questions at a much quicker rate than they were presenting answers, which annoyed Draco to no end, so much so that Draco wanted to leave the room and get some food.
At six in the evening they all went down covered in glamours for some dinner, Virgil not eating anything at all. Harry wanted to ask but Virgil seemed to be keeping to himself as Draco and Hermione bickered.
Hermione got a room for herself next to Draco's and had settled in for the night before deciding to plan their next course of action, and Draco had gone out to pickpocket, which shocked Harry (once again he didn't take Draco for someone who stole), so that he could do some well earned retail-therapy.
Leaving Harry alone in his room with a very reclusive Virgil.
"Virgil ... are you all right?" Harry asked tentatively. The vampire was startled out of his reverie, and he rapidly shook his head.
"I noticed you didn't eat today," Harry said. Virgil smiled humorlessly.
"I'm a vampire, Harry."
"I know that, you dolt. You've proven it countless times."
They stared at each other for a second, and then Harry stepped closer Virgil, and hugged the lean vampire.
"Harry? What ..." Virgil spluttered, his skin turning as flushed as it could.
"Bite," Harry muttered briefly.
"Harry—" Virgil tried to protest.
"Look, you're starving, I'm willing. You do the math, Virgil."
"I don't want to be a burden," Virgil admitted, his arms curling just a little bit tighter around Harry's small form.
Harry breathed, and consequently took a whiff of Virgil's heady scent.
"Just, eat. Please. For me," Harry said softly.
Reluctantly, Virgil trailed his lips down Harry's jugular, looking for that perfect spot. Harry closed his eyes as Virgil's lips made contact with skin, and Harry's breath hitched.
"I'm sorry," Virgil muttered to Harry's neck, before his fangs sprang forth and pierced the skin. Harry gasped in pain, but then as Virgil drank, the pain receded, only to be replaced by a tingling sensation, pooling slowly down at the pit of his stomach.
Without realizing it, Harry moaned softly, and Virgil's strong arms tightened around him, not too tight, but rather securing. Harry did not realize he was aroused, and if he did, he couldn't have distinguished what caused it—whether from having the handsome vampire flush against him or from the feeding.
Before long, Harry had spontaneously ejaculated in his trousers, and his orgasm hit him quite hard, so much so that his knees gave in and he fell in Virgil's arms.
"Wow," Harry breathed, looking at the vampire.
"I'm sorry," Virgil muttered again, seeming very sick of himself.
"It's all right, okay?" Harry said, chuckling softly. He suddenly felt a wave of fatigue wash over him.
"I've drained you a bit too much. I ... you taste phenomenal, I'm really sorry," Virgil said, carrying Harry towards the bed.
"'Salright, Virgil," Harry mumbled. Virgil laid him down gently, resting Harry's head on his arm as he followed. He looked at Harry, really studied Harry's features, and smiled in a content manner.
"Good night, Harry."
...
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