Chapter Fourteen: Control
"Harry," Hermione said, unrelentingly, "we need to talk about what happened back there."
They were heading back up the Grand Staircase, unanimously having decided to return to Hogwarts. Harry couldn't retract his fangs. A vat of heat was bubbling up in his chest. He was so close to boiling over. Anger. Remorse. Worry. Anger. I can't be here, I need to be in the dormitory. Back where it's safe.
"Yeah. You're kinda being scary, mate."
Harry lowered his scarf and turned on the stair. "Of course I'm scary, Ron. I'm a vampire!" He glared at his friend. "I'm going back to the Half-Human Tower. I won't be down for breakfast tomorrow - we all know once the papers arrive in the morning, my fangs will be front page news. So, I'll see you tomorrow in class."
He held his scarf high again, ensured that his mouth was hidden, and then continued his venture up the Grand Staircase. It wasn't until he reached the common room that he noticed how out of breath he was, and moreover, hungry for blood. All the anger, and the exercise, had got to him.
When he entered the dormitory, bag of sweets in hand, he was struck by an unfamiliar sight.
"Potter, what are you doing here?" Draco asked. The sixteen year old leaned up on his elbows and proceeded to lift himself from the bed, and afterward, plodded casually to stand in front of the balcony doors. "You've barely been gone two hours."
"You're not - "
- wearing a shirt, Harry's mind finished for him, unable to finish his own sentence, so dazed by the sight of the half-dressed prefect in front of him. Draco wore shirts that could be easily ripped at the back when his wings came out. He always used the bathroom to dress himself for functions: from robes for his classes to casual clothes at the weekend, soft pyjamas for sleeping. Harry had not, until now, seen him so undressed and unperturbed in a public space before.
"I didn't expect you, Seamus or Corner to return for another hour," Draco said, explaining his lack of care for his shirtless, sockless state. He was only wearing trousers, an expensive black pair. "You all seemed excited about the Hogsmeade visit. Why are you back?"
Harry dragged the scarf down, letting it drape around his shoulders. He sniffed, finally able to breath in air that didn't small of wool, and was hit by a tangy, dark scent. In the dormitory, there were usually a great many smells, ranging from day-old socks, broomstick polish, pig's blood, sweat, cologne, so he put the strange new aroma to the back of his mind, though it did smell incredible.
"Your fangs are -"
"Out, yes," Harry finished. He looked down from Draco's upper body, unable to face his reaction. That was a mistake. His gaze drew over the prefect's left arm at his side, bandaged as always. The bandages were wet with blood. "You're still bleeding?"
"Always am." Draco raised his arm, arbitrarily examining the wound.
The distinct smell became thicker. Harry dropped his bag of goodies, the blood-flavoured lollipops and Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans, and walked forward. "It's you, I think," he said, hardly aware of his own incoherence. He pushed Draco by the chest, sending him into the right balcony door.
Draco huffed on the impact, and said, "What's me?"
"That smell, it's you," Harry repeated.
He grabbed Draco by the wrists and dragged them over his head, so that he could pin the prefect against the balcony's right door, hold him there. I want to bite him, find that smell. Taste it. Drown in it. Apart of him also wanted to kiss the prefect. Draco looked striking against the glass door, the light reflecting off his pale skin, his lips pursed - in pain or confusion.
"Potter, what are you doing?" Draco demanded. "What have I done to deserve this, do you want a fight?"
Harry shook his head, though the motion made him dizzy.
"Want to bite you," he said in a whisper. "Let me, please?"
Draco gasped. "Dobby!" he shouted, before his lips then reformed into a thin, hard line, which Harry decided then was a look he would always find appealing. He liked seeing the prefect look thoughtful, so rough and brow-beaten.
Harry didn't see the Dobby appear behind him, but the clicking noise that house-elves gave off when apparating into a room rebounded through his ears.
"Draco Malfoy is requesting help?"
Harry growled softly, nostrils flaring. At the back of his mind, he felt some conscious friendship towards the house-elf, but largely, in that moment, he felt that Dobby would only interfere with his plans to bite the prefect. Alone. With me.
"Get Harry Potter here more pig's blood. Refill his jug."
There were several clicks behind him. The faint scent of pig's blood in the room from before, which had lingered probably due to the few droplets he'd left in the jug earlier, now became thicker.
"Okay, Dobby. You can leave now," Draco said.
"No. Dobby should stay."
Not Dobby, the house-elf shouldn't be here.
"Harry Potter is attacking Draco Malfoy," the house-elf went on. "Dobby should stay to protect Malfoy."
"The house-elf leaves, Malfoy, or I drain you and him both dry," Harry said loudly, the words leaving his mouth with barely any thought process behind them. He wasn't thinking - he could only feel his hunger building.
"Dobby, thank you for your aid, but it's not necessary. I can handle Potter, you should inform the Headmaster he needs more blood in the future."
"More blood, sounds delicious if it's yours," Harry said, chuckling. He manoeuvred his hands so that he could hold Draco by the wrists with only one hand, and then he proceeded to use his free hand to grasp the prefect by his throat and tilt his head sideways, displaying his gorgeous neck. "You always tilt your head when you're thinking. Makes you look so good."
Draco groaned. "GO, DOBBY!"
Harry didn't hear the click of the house-elf disapparating. He assumed he had, because his prey took on a hardened look again, thin lips and all. His chest became more solid if possible, muscles tensing up like he was holding in a breath. So gorgeous. Powerful. Mine.
"Potter, I don't want to jinx you but I will if you don't step back. You know I can cast wandlessly, I don't need my hands. Go to your own bedside table and drink the pig's blood."
Harry rose higher, placing himself on his tip-toes and leaning firmly on the prefect's chest. Malfoy was still taller than him, only by a few inches though.
He leaned in until his mouth reached Malfoy's neck, breathed in the smell of his woodsy-scented cologne, and said, "You're better than pig's blood, Malfoy. Your lips look delicious, I can't decide whether to kiss them or devour them."
Malfoy whimpered then. He breathed in, his chest tensing up again. "Aguamenti!"
From Draco's hands above him, a shower of water came down upon Harry. It was like a torrential rainstorm. It fell onto his hair, hit his glasses and went into his eyes, blinding him. Harry released his grip on the prefect and stepped back, shaking, his leather coat and scarf soaking. He took off his glasses and rubbed the glass, immediately feeling clearer in the head.
Draco was standing in front of him, hands now poised together, water bursting forth from his palms. He shook his hands, ending the spell, and then, grabbing the shirt that was still lying idly on his bed, took off for the dormitory door. Terrified that the prefect would inform a student, Professor Snape, Harry's godfather, or worse the Headmaster about the incident, Harry felt his fangs draw back rapidly, painfully so, receding to their normal canine forms.
He winced. "Draco, wait -"
"Drink your blood, Potter," Draco ordered. "I'll return when I feel certain that our dormitory mates have returned."
I've scared him, Harry thought miserably. The door was slammed shut as Draco left, the prefect apparently too frightened or too angry to close it gently. I scared him, and I bet he won't speak to me from now on. He'll hate me. The thought made him immeasurably sad. He wiped his eyes again, put his glasses back on, and moved to his bedside table. Seeing the jug full of blood only made him more upset. I threatened Dobby. Actually threatened to kill him.
Harry drank his fill of blood but took no pleasure from it, the metallic taste settling uneasily in his stomach. I can't tell Draco that I've found a way to save his mother and himself, he won't ever trust me again. He collapsed onto his bed, brought his hands to his eyes, and sobbed quietly. I'm dangerous, I pushed him up against a glass door. They should expel me, I deserve it.
The worst part was, Harry had liked it. He'd liked pushing Draco's buttons, teasing him, being so close, close enough to know what his cologne smelt like. You weren't thinking, you don't know that Draco liked it. You're his mate, and you held him against his will.
He didn't go down for dinner. Instead he dried himself, changed clothes, sat on his bed and wrote to Harold, to inform the older vampire about the incident. He didn't mention the part about him being Draco's mate, and he certainly didn't mention that he'd told Draco that his lips looked delicious, but he did inform the vampire that his hunger for blood was growing, that he'd almost bit another student, and that he could smell blood from a room's length away now. He vowed to send the letter tomorrow morning, rather than attend breakfast in the Great Hall.
Some hours later, as he was reading from a book on vampirism, one which Harold brought him, he received a note by owl through the balcony. The owl flew away the moment he took the note from it's leg. He unrolled the note and read its contents:
Harry,
I have returned from my venture. Dobby has informed me that you are in need of increasing your dosage to three jugs of blood per day, which I find acceptable. If you require more, please request it as necessary from the house-elves.
If acceptable, I would appreciate your attendance for a lesson this Tuesday night, 7 p.m.
And I greatly find myself appreciating Liquorice Wands as of late.
Albus Dumbledore.
He did attend lunch the next day, though he couldn't stomach any food, the thought of what he had done too much to handle. The papers also made him feel awful. He had been right; the first page of the Daily Prophet had been dedicated to him that day. So many newspapers aligned the House tables during lunch, leftover from breakfast but unforgotten. His first class that day had been full of students gossiping about the pictures taken of him outside the Three Broomsticks.
In the end, not ten minutes into sitting at the Gryffindor table, Hermione and Ron had managed to persuade him to stand and leave for the courtyard beyond the Entrance Hall to speak in private. There were students standing next to the fountain, around the stone benches, and near the staircase to the grounds. Harry retreated to the stone corridor to their right, the location providing a bit of distance away from the occupied spots.
"Harry, what's going on with you?" Ron asked, approaching him with folded arms. "You missed dinner last night, now you're not eating breakfast and lunch. Should we be worried?"
"I told you I wouldn't be at breakfast this morning. I didn't want to be around for the morning post."
"Maybe...maybe Draco Malfoy isn't worth the trouble, Harry," Hermione said. She was eyeing the stonework, avoiding looking at him. "Your vampirism is out now. And for what? Do you even trust that Mundungus will deliver a working, legal portkey?"
"Draco deserves our help, he's a good person." Harry wished that he'd had something to eat now. His stomach was aching uncomfortably. "I did something awful last night to him, 'Mione. So bad. Everything...everything the Daily Prophet publishes about me, it's true. I would deserve Azkaban. I am dangerous, I can hurt people."
Ron grasped his shoulder. "Mate, did something happen?"
"I went back to my dormitory, and I could see his bandages. I could smell Draco's blood on them, his cologne. Everything." Harry shut his eyes, his legs wobbling. He stumbled over to the stone window seat and sat down. "I felt drunk. Hungry. I went and grabbed him by the wrists, and held him up against the balcony. His neck, oh -"
"His neck, what?" Ron shook his shoulder roughly, desperately. "Did you bite him? Did you?"
Hermione gasped. "Ron, stop -"
"I didn't bite him," Harry said, interrupting her. Ron stayed his hand. "But I wanted to. Merlin, I wanted to, Ron. He was right there, and I could've done. Draco had to call Dobby to fill a jug of pig's blood for me - even then, I could smell the pig's blood, but I wouldn't release him. Draco had to blast me with water to get me off. And he ran out of the dorm. I scared him. Me."
"Oh, bloody hell."
Ron wrapped his arms around Harry. It was like something clicked in him then. He laid his chin on Ron's neck, shut his eyes, and wished that he could eradicate his vampirism. I don't want to be a vampire anymore, if it means hurting Draco then I don't want it.
"Oh, Harry," Hermione said after some moments. "Perhaps it was only because you were in an enclosed space, and therefore could smell everything better, that you were so hungry? Or because you had your fangs out? It could be so many things. Have you tried talking to Draco since? He clearly hasn't told anyone what happened yet. Otherwise, you'd be in the Headmaster's office right now, or detention. Maybe he's on your side?"
Harry slipped out of Ron's grasp. He wiped his eyes, readjusted his glasses, gingerly, and with some courage, brought himself to look up at her. "Hermione, how can I possibly talk to him after what happened?" He sniffed. "I pinned him against a door and threatened to kill Dobby and him. They'll never trust me again."
"I'm sorry," Ron said. "Wish I could move into the dormitory with you, mate. I would if I could."
"This isn't easy," Hermione agreed. "I snapped at Hannah Abbott the other day for singing in the shower, you know. I'd woken up with a migraine. But I did apologise and explain myself later to her. Do you think Draco will understand if you do the same?"
Harry wiped his glasses on his sleeve. "I'll try and talk to him. Hopefully, he won't hate me."
As luck happened that night, Seamus and Corner were the first to dress for bed and fall asleep. Seamus had claimed he needed to be up early for a study session with Dean, and Corner wanted to get a head-start on his Defence Against the Dark Arts essay before his fellow Ravenclaws at breakfast.
That meant that Draco and Harry were left awake. Draco lay against his pillows, reading A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration. Harry didn't think he needed to study much, given that he'd seen the prefect conjure water yesterday wandlessly, but he thought better than to compliment him now. Besides, Aguamenti is a first year spell. The NEWT examiner will probably expect something more I would.
Harry quietly thought that any examiner would be a fool not to see Draco's worth.
The morning's paper from the Daily Prophet also rested by the prefect's ankle. Harry eyed the front page with disdain. He could still recall every word of the article, the starring picture too.
Harry Potter: The Vampire Who Lived
Harry Potter was spotted yesterday morning outside the Three Broomsticks pub, Hogsmeade. Conversing with an unidentified man, and accompanied by well-known companions, Mr Ronald Weasley and Miss Hermione Granger, The Boy Who Lived was found pinning the stranger in question against the establishment's outside wall by the throat. Harry was then seen to release the unidentified man and leave with his companions, his fangs bared.
Readers will remember that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry now accepts non-humans as part of their student registry. It appears that Harry Potter, sixth-year Gryffindor student, is among those enlisted. The Department for Magical Creatures has been contacted for further information on the matter, however, they've responded that due to patient-doctor confidentially, they are unable to provide details on how and when The Boy Who Lived was bitten.
Leading members of the vampire community, and students and professors currently enlisted at Hogwarts, have also been contacted. The question about the danger that such creatures like vampires present is tantamount to the wizarding community. For readers who would like to know more about the safety measures taken by the school, please turn to page 3.
"You still read that?" Harry asked the prefect. "You know it prints nothing but trash?"
"I know, but Pansy brought it to me. Nice picture though, Potter. Love the coat," Draco said conversationally. He put his book down on his bed and sat up. "Remind me, why did you need my jacket back on the train, and again at the Lake? It seems you do own clothes."
"Sod off," he said good-naturedly, chuckling deeply, unable to keep the glee out of his words. He did find Draco funny at times. "I had to leave the train without my luggage. And the second time was your fault - remember, you were the one who flew out, forgetting about the dementors and all. Could've given me fair warning, I might've remembered my coat then."
The prefect stood up from his bed. He made his way over to Harry's bed and sat on the Gryffindor-red quilt.
"I'm sorry for what happened yesterday," Harry blurted out, utterly shocked to see the prefect choosing to sit with him. "I didn't mean to - to do that. I had no control. I never do, but I'll drink more blood from now, I swear. And I won't let it happen again."
He wanted to tell the Slytherin that he had also found a way to save his mother and himself - that the conversation in the papers between Mundungus and himself had been about acquiring a portkey. He didn't know how well Draco would receive the news, though.
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Potter, you do blabber on." Harry frowned indignantly of this, making the Slytherin chuckle. "I forgive you for yesterday. You've helped me deal being a veela this year, much more than I thought possible. Thanks to you, I'm able to spread my wings anytime I desire. My magic's been more stable, too. It would be hypocritical of me not to offer help in return."
"I scared you -"
"You didn't. I've received a much worse beating from Hermione Granger; your little stunt yesterday, pushing me against a glass door, was nothing in comparison to being punched by your friend." Draco raised his bandaged arm. He stroked his nose, and a quiet shudder passed over him. He turned back to Harry. "How you feeling now, by the way?"
"Dumbledore's topped up my daily dosage, so I'm feeling fine. It's strange, needing blood." He glanced at Draco's arm, and frowned as he remembered how it had felt to hold the Slytherin by his wrists. He couldn't smell the blood now, thankfully. Probably because Draco was wearing a jumper, his bandages covered. "Shouldn't I be asking how you are? I hurt you, don't say I didn't. I threatened to kill you."
"I don't believe you would've have gone through with it, you're a good person. And no, as I said, pushing me against the glass was the worst of it." He huffed. "Besides, your vampirism may give you superior strength, but veelas have a higher pain tolerance. And there's zero chance you could turn me into a vampire, your venom has no affect. So, Potter, you should be the one scared."
Draco gave him a half-suppressed grin.
"Oh, I should be scared?" Harry said, teasing. He liked Draco's confidence. It was refreshing to be around someone who wasn't afraid the moment his fangs came out. He glanced at Draco's covered arm again. "How does your blood never soak through into your shirts, by the way? I always wondered."
"My bandages? They're magical. They absorb the blood, and will vanish it after a certain amount of time has passed or a high level of absorption is reached. It keeps my shirts clean, free of bloodstains. The bandages do need replacing twice a day though, to prevent infection," he said quite clinically, reminding Harry a lot of Madam Pomfrey. "You said something about my smell, this morning."
"Oh, it was you...your blood. It made me dizzy. Smelling you made me feel like I'd drunk a dozen pints of firewhisky."
"And you called me Malfoy, several times in fact. Back to using my last name?"
"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking," Harry said, running a hand through his hair. "If you reported me to Snape, or you plan on it, I won't blame you. I hurt you, pushed you without asking."
"Potter - no, Harry - really, just stop apologising. It's nice, but you can stop. I was afraid, partially, yes, but I could have pushed you away at any point. Wandless magic, remember?" He waved his hands, his long fingers fiddling in a playful manner. Harry smiled at the gesture. "The moment you tried to bite me, I would have used a shield spell and sent you flying. Like I did with Snape last month."
"But I said things, Draco, embarrassing things. Why the bloody hell didn't you push me away earlier?"
Draco lowered his hands to his lap. "'Because I liked the things you said. And because, I've never been kissed before."
"You've never," Harry said, flabbergasted. There was a moment of stunned silence between them. "What about Parkinson? You were dating her last year, weren't you? She was always hanging off your arm."
Harry had seen them together on countless occasions. Rumours had even circulated that Malfoy and Parkinson had danced for the entire evening during the Triwizard Ball. And Parkinson was fiercely protective of Draco, too. She stroked his hair on the train, so they're still pretty close.
He scowled, realising that the blond was probably straight. And that he'd likely been flirting with a straight man for the past month. I'm his mate, and he's been trying to keep his distance from me. Thus far, Draco had given him no hints of attraction. Nothing.
"It was just friendship. Nothing more. Don't look so petulant, Potty." Harry flushed at his scowl being openly called out. Draco laughed. "Pansy and I have run in the same circles since birth. We were even put on play-dates together, so she knows everything - well, almost everything - about me. We've always been close as thieves."
"What would you have done if I kissed you yesterday?" Harry asked pointedly, without thinking. He's gonna reject me. It only occurred to him after he'd spoken that Draco could tell him that he had zero chance. "I'm sorry, never mind. I don't even know if you fancy me. Or blokes in general."
"Under the circumstances, with your fangs out and you desperate for blood, no, I wouldn't have let you kiss me yesterday," Draco said. Harry looked down at his Gryffindor-red quilt at that, avoiding the man's gaze. "Under different circumstances, however..."
Harry released a breath, which came out more like a choked wretch, really. He looked up and hoped that his reaction had not put Draco off. The blond titled his head and smiled, his lips curling into a bright, beautiful grin.
"You can't just say things like that," Harry whispered breathlessly.
They had to keep quiet because their two dorm-mates were sleeping. Nevertheless, Harry could feel his heart thundering inside his chest.
"You were the one who brought up those things yesterday. I didn't think that you fancied blokes until last month, until you followed me here after that Dark Arts class." Draco turned suddenly to look behind him, probably wary about being overheard. He sighed, and turned back to go on, "I've fancied you for a year now, Potter. You make me want things, you do."
Harry leaned in, or as much as he could given that he was still lying beneath his bedcovers.
"What things, Malfoy?" he asked, again trying to tease the man. He couldn't seem to stop himself.
Draco raised an eyebrow. "I think you know exactly what I'm talking about, Harry. I want to kiss you."
There was a slight pinkish tinge to his cheeks, which Harry found adorable. He was grateful that Draco was even speaking to him after the incident yesterday, let alone thinking about kissing him.
"And why aren't we doing that?" Harry asked.
"Because I wouldn't be able to keep those memories safe from the Dark Lord. My Occlumency skills aren't that good." He bit his lip. "I shouldn't even be having this discussion."
Harry was grateful for Draco's honesty, however, he despised the fact that Draco had to remain wary of Voldemort. "Maybe you could ask Snape for private lessons in Occlumency? He gave me them last year, but I was never any good. I hope you get better."
"And why would you hope that my Occlumency improves?"
Harry gave him a toothy grin. "Because I want you safe, obviously. And I really want to kiss you, too, in case that isn't obvious."
That seemed to throw Draco Malfoy. His eyes grew wide beneath his silvery bangs, and he stood up. "I'll, err, take that under advisement, I guess. Goodnight, Potter."
"Draco, what?" He hadn't meant to make the Slytherin leave. He grabbed his copy of Advanced Potion-Making and scrabbled out of his bed. "Wait - here, take this. You can burrow it."
Draco turned to face him, his cheeks having grown even more pink, nearing on completely red. It was incredibly endearing and the sight made Harry's head spin, not from a lack of blood this time but arousal. I never could fluster Cho, not like this. Draco is...he's something else. It made him even more disheartened that Voldemort was keeping them apart.
"You want me to burrow this, Harry?" Draco asked quietly. Harry felt his fingers briefly cross with Draco's as the prefect took the book slowly, as in disbelief. "When do you want it back?"
He grinned. "Thursday? For our next Potions class? We don't have any essays due in, so you can keep it until then."
Draco thanked him and retreated back to his bed. Harry, returning to his own, pulled his disarranged quilt back over himself. He seized his wand from his bedside table, flicked it, magically closing his bed-curtains, and then tossed the wand aside to the floor. Lying on his pillows, he had just one thought on his mind.
Draco Malfoy wants to kiss me.