"Don't even get near him," Said Hermione, entering the common rooms quietly. She looked around and was pleased to find that it was deserted. It was always a pain to shoo inquisitive people out of their business.
It was after suppertime, but Harry, Hermione and Ron were still enthusiastic about Malfoy's confession. They had talked about it subtly on their way back to the common rooms. Harry fell down onto one plush couch, completely exhausted from the whole day. School was always out to drain you… He drummed his fingers in little anticipation as Ron looked around, taking in the lack of human life forms with puzzlement on his face, "Is it really that late? How long were we in the library, researching about that blasted Talim?"
"Longer than you've ever been in there." Retorted Hermione, dropping her bag next to Harry and sitting beside it. Ron took the last settee across from them.
"Can we really trust what Malfoy said?" Asked Ron.
Hermione looked at Ron as if there were rabbit ears sprouting out of his head. "Do you think he'd chuck himself just for attention? Of course what he says is true, he even fits my observations!"
Seeing their curious faces, she sighed, "That time on the Quidditch field? He had extra good eyesight. Too good, people would get suspicious. But he used it right away. The reason why he wanted to catch the snitch so quickly was so that he didn't have to stay out in the sun too long."
It DID fit perfectly, thought Harry. The red eyes, the tang of evil spurring on his scar, the aloof expression, the clothes… His choice of clothing didn't seem funny anymore.
How was Harry going to solve this crisis? The first answer that popped into his mind was to run to Dumbledore, although as the thought of it sank in he changed his mind. He really felt like a child whenever he scurried over to the shelter of Dumbledore's wisdom. Damnit he was fif-TEEN. Teen. Teenager. He should be able to deal with this.
It was not just his life Harry was worried about. Aside from protecting his neck from sharp, white fangs, he was also anxious for Malfoy. As much as he hated the blonde he felt sorry for him. How would it feel being under the gaze of so many teachers and students and knowing you're hiding something horrible just under your sleeves? Harry had no doubt about it— Malfoy would be expelled from school (as he is, an evil, dangerous creature) as fast as a whoop.
Another option of his actions was to kill the Slytherin Talim… But it would take time to research on how to kill him, and Harry knew, deep in his heart, that he couldn't do it.
When you've known your mortal enemy for five years, have spouted nasty comments towards each other, have winced at each other's presence, you would realize that… yes, you would miss that selfish little scum of a git.
"Just don't think of it too much, Harry." Suggested Ron, looking over to the brooding boy. Harry looked up to return the gentle smile to his friends. Before he could say something, however, two people shot into the room, hair chaotic.
Seamus burst out first, "Guess WHAT you guys,"
"You wont believe who's HERE," exclaimed Dean Thomas.
"Who?" Asked Ron, definitely interested.
"Professor Lupin," Chorused the two.
Ron went ballistic, jumping up and down in joy as soon as he heard. But Seamus held the hem of the fiery red-head's shirt, clearing out, "But he's not coming to teach…"
That lowered Ron's mood, and he pouted as Seamus continued, "He's here visiting. We saw him. Told us not to say anything though—"
"But you know we can't keep our mouths shut, wouldn't ya?" Interrupted Dean.
The two boys went on about how they spotted this humongous eagle flying overhead. How Professor Remus Lupin climbed down the creature, greeting Filch and Mrs. Norris. Lupin had only a few steps before he heard something, Seamus and Dean were glad only their favorite teacher found them in the bushes that night, because they were brought into a small, pleasant little cottage and given tea. Lupin had sworn them both into secrecy.
"Erm, violated secrecy," Squirmed Seamus, grinning apologetically. Hermione rolled her eyes, obviously disapproving, before leaning near Harry to whisper, "I think he's here for the Order of the Phoenix…"
Harry knew exactly what she meant but kept his lips shut tight. He was in another world. For now, surprisingly, he did not care about Professor Lupin, his father's best friend. No… He was thinking of something else. He still could not shake off the other topic that they talked about before Dean and Seamus.
He was still thinking of how to save his rival…
---
Days passed with much frustration in Hermione's part. Partly because her Ancient Rituals happened to be a hard and strenuous extra, and her severe homework and schoolwork were suffering for the time she would research about the Talims. More and more disappearing into the library, Hermione seemed a ghost of a companion.
The two boys tried to help of course, but Hermione wouldn't let them touch her schoolwork. ("How much damage you might cause!!" she had said,) and so they fulfilled their duty as researchers for Talims.
But as even more days passed Hermione became even more stressed, as a new problem surfaced. News about the slaughtered Diricawls had bubbled out somehow, and Hagrid had another case on him. Dumbledore supported him all the way, but it was Hermione who had volunteered to become Hagrid's shadow lawyer.
"Herm, you should get some rest." Said Harry, looking at her with an almost pleading expression. Hermione shook her head, eyes never leaving the lines on the page, "Sorry, Harry. I'm on to something here."
An exasperated sigh from Ron, "That's what you said –Last time.—"
Neville had volunteered to help Hermione on her schoolwork on which she had agreed upon, (except for Potions,) and it had helped Hermione a great deal. She was glad Neville was there. Harry was glad Neville was there too, and truth be told, he did like his company. A bit more than necessary…
Agh. Stop thinking of that. Change the subject.
One thing that surprised him, and probably the whole of Hogwarts, was the sudden change in Malfoy. The Slytherin had begun visiting the trio in the Library without his cronies, offering help for their research. ("Though I don't think anything will be useful," he scoffed) The trio had been very cold to him for the first few meetings, sticking to the "Don't go Near the Talim Beast for He Might Bite Your Neck Off" plan, but as time passed they got use to him. Though Hermione and Ron kept eyeing both Harry and Malfoy suspiciously, Harry could only blush thinking of that.
Malfoy would sit closest to Harry, glancing up at him on occasions, and much to Harry's embarrassment the blonde would give him little twirks of his lips… secret smiles, which would make him shiver. Malfoy rarely talked about any small talk though, just stuck on the problem at hand, which was about investigating his own origins.
But, they weren't REALLY mixing perfectly.
"Just as long as we don't become friends," Ron had said stubbornly, nose in the air. Malfoy had rolled his eyes and pointed out, "I thought nothing of that sort. You, on the other hand, pondered about such 'fantasy' into your dundery little head."
Harry and Hermione hated it when those two started arguing.
Things were getting more complicated each day…
---
"Draco's with them AGAIN." Said Goyle lowly. He and Crabbe had entered the common room after supper. Apparently their leader did not approve of retiring to bed and desired to go to the library alone. Both of them knew who he would meet there.
Crabbe shook the whole floor as he fell onto the Slytherin seats, Goyle across from him. Placing their very large feet onto the little table, they grunted and looked around, getting comfortable.
"He's acting awfully strange." Noted Crabbe, only noticing it now. He sniffed in the thick smoke that swirled, trapped inside the room. No doubt the seventh years were smoking again.
"Yeah." Grunted Goyle, "Awfully stranger than normal. Whaddya think is up with his long-sleeves anyway? Won't he ever give that a rest?"
That reeled Pansy Parkinson's attention, as she was also in the hazy room. Quickly striding her way closer, she eyed them half-heartedly, "Where's Draco?"
"Off with people."
"People…?"
"You know, Potter. Granger. Weasley."
Pansy's eyes widened, "AGAIN?"
A nod from the fatter one, "Again. Whatddya think, Pan? You reckon he's sucking up to Potter? You reckon he's got tattoos all over him? Wonder what happened to him, rarely talks about his life no more… you know, like… I dunno…you know? Wait… What was I talking bout? Ah bullshit."
Pansy gave him a wry smile, "Impressing, Vince… You got to keep your track of speech two seconds longer than last time..." She sighed, checking the foggy area for any sign of the blonde before warning, "I don't think it's your place to ask about precious little Drakkie-poo. He probably just has those teenage problems…you know… Such a bother to ask him about it."
Pansy Parkinson, being a girl, was deadly curious but also extremely personal. She backed off and never pried in for secrets. If she kept to herself, she presumed they would keep to themselves as well and not ask her questions. Thus, the warning to Draco's bodyguards. It was bad enough when people shot Draco curious stares, why be asked silly, annoying questions by his henchmen as well? He would confess when he wanted to, —that was Pansy's mentality.
---
Blaise heard Pansy's, Vincent's and Gregory's discussion when he was about to leave the common room. He stopped in mid-stride, lurked a while, hearing Pansy's words. This made him scoff. She would not even ask questions about how Draco was doing? What a stupid girl. If she only knew how much fun it was to pry into others secrets and watch them live out life.
Blaise slipped out of the Common room, inhaling deeply the clear, but blistering cold air. He looked around, taking in the shadowy appearance of the Slytherin corridors, before trudging on, footsteps echoing.
Pansy might be forever curious. Maybe one day she would lose control and ask Malfoy about his secret. All Blaise knew was that HE did not need answers from Draco anymore.
Draco Malfoy was as good as dead. Why?
Because Blaise knew exactly what that blonde was.
---
Draco Malfoy felt like the thumping of his heart was directly up his throat. Tears were stinging his eyes, and he was having the worst headache of his life. And he thought mournfully as he was striding along the Slytherin corridors, Was it coming back? No. I can't let it. No, god damn it I will not let it speak!
He had slaughtered another bird just the other night. It had felt terrible afterwards, seeing the putrid blood that stained his clothes, smelling the revolting stench, feeling the stickiness in his clothes and the dry blood on parts of his chin. Disgusting!
But could he help it?
All rational thoughts fled out of his head once he bumped onto something and stumbled back. He growled lowly and glowered at the other Slytherin.
"Zabini you prat! Watch where—"
"Ah… Draco… Wonderful life you're having, isn't it?"
The smirk on the raven-head's face made Draco cease his insults. The blonde squinted his eyes, looking dangerously at the smirking boy, "What are you up to, Zabini?"
"What are you up to?" retorted Blaise, "Did you come from your night's feeding? Or just a midnight stroll to You-Know-Who?"
Panic rose inside Draco. He had this ultimate urge to grab Blaise and throttle him for harassing him like that, but instead his cold grey eyes flashed, "I don't know what you're talking about. "
"Oh you know EXACTLY what I mean, Draco…" Blaise's smirk widened, "You, the most popular heartthrob of the fourth and fifth years, a filthy Talim Vampire. Who would've thought?"
The reaction Draco gave was extreme. He gave one very menacing growl before attempting to knock Blaise with a punch to the face. Blaise ducked that blow easily, but he was completely unprepared for the lightning-quick hand that grabbed him by his neck and slammed him against the wall. Blaise was strangely comforted knowing his feet were still on the ground. He had this awful feeling Draco could hold him above the floor with his hands just on his neck…
He looked at the blonde, a smirk still in his face and a bit of confidence airing around him. Malfoy may have him in his steely grip, and a flash of red glazed over that vampire's eyes, but Blaise held his cool.
"Who told you?" snarled Draco.
"Why? Who else knows?"
The grip tightened.
There seemed to be no fear in Blaise, and maybe it was true bravery or just juvenile idiocy that his next remark was, "Are you scared now that the word is out?"
Draco Malfoy bristled like a cat, and slowly, like blood seeping out of a wound, the core of his eyes became bright red, growing wide and glowing with hate. He opened his mouth wide, bringing out a sort of strange, raspy hissing, his face screwed up in some beastly expression. Those fangs were noticeable now.
"Shit…" Mumbled Blaise, now realizing the danger he exposed himself in, and in a desperate action, he pulled up his right foot and kicked Draco's abdomen hard, sending the vampire staggering back. Blaise was on the verge of sprinting to safety, when he felt cold hands on his arm, clutching painfully.
Malfoy's eyes were wide and wanton, and Blaise frantically grabbed the first thing he could. A brass torch. The green light illuminated them in different ways in seconds as Blaise slammed the base of the torch-bottom onto Draco's head brutally. Draco growled in pain, letting go and clutching his own head. He fell to his knees with blood splattering on the stone ground. Blaise held the torch in his shoulder level, not knowing what to say or do. Draco panted a while, before looking up.
Grey eyes.
Blood trickling down his forehead.
Blaise gazed at Draco guardedly, placing the torch holder back to its place. Draco Malfoy inhaled deeply, watching Blaise like a protective animal.
"…How did you find out about me?"
Blaise swallowed, staring as Draco wiped away the blood with his long-sleeves. The black bandana he wore on his forehead didn't show much of the red liquid, but the blonde hair showed blatant signs of where he got hit. Blaise finally spoke up, his cool presence rapidly regaining, "I saw your eyes Malfoy. I see what you wear. I know how to research, and I found a little article about your kind."
Slowly and carefully he took out something out of his leather jacket. School usually took points of Slytherin because Blaise would always wear muggle clothes when "he felt like it" but everyone was use to it by now.
There was a leather bound pocket book. Draco could see through the sides, that the pages were extremely old and crumbling. The cover part, however, looked quite new.
"Page three. "
Blaise threw it at the vampire's feet. Then, placing his slender hands onto his pockets, he glanced up, "You do know that I could just kill you, and get money for ridding something who's a danger to us here. "
"You wouldn't dare," said Draco lowly.
Blaise looked cocky, "Oh yes I would… Or I could just tell some person who could tell another person and…"
"Damnit Zabini! Don't you know how hard it is keep this all a secret? How long I've been wasting my time in Hogwarts, and if I get expelled…"
Blaise looked uninterested, "So why did you go to Hogwarts, if your bloodline was a Talim, hmm? Talims don't go to school. Their animals, filthy mongrels like centaurs, werewolves and elves."
Malfoy bottled the sudden rush of anger. Instead he gave a sarcastic grin, "Let's just say I nagged father. I always wanted to see how Hogwarts looked like. Besides, I had too much time at home. Look, Zabini, I'll pay you to shut up, how about that?"
"How much?"
"Whatever."
"We could –" Draco stopped and looked around. Blaise heard it too.
There was noise from a cat. A long, soft meow. And a very distant creaking of something… a lantern holder?
"Shit. It's Filch." Whispered Draco, grabbing the little bound book and getting up. He glanced at Blaise. If it wasn't such a terrifying moment Draco would have laughed. The look on Blaise face was golden.
He looked petrified and scared out of his wits.
But in another second Zabini had whirled around and dashed back to the Slytherin dorms. Draco would have followed but another corridor in front of him started illuminating with light, and the vampire could hear footsteps advancing quickly. Without another word, he turned opposite from the Slytherin's dorms, and ran out of sight.
-
The pain started again. The dull, aching pain that throbbed near the back of his head thumped harder and harder until Draco could not keep his balance. He slumped upon the cold wall, breathing harder and harder. He hoped that Filch wont find him here, he was completely unguarded.
He hated this. This pain was getting more painful, more intense each second, he did not know how long he could last against it. It felt like his brain was slowly ripping into two, slowly ebbing away from consciousness and into darkness.
The darkness looked promising. It would give him rest from the sleep-less nights of writhing, and the waking hours of hurting. He had thought of finally giving up to that voice, as he had no choice in the future. He had thought of cutting off humanity for the prize of immortality.
And darkness.
But he did not. He did not know this obtuse reason of why he should not escape this wretched suffering.
Maybe because of Harry Fucking Potter.
Yes, that boy surely made everything turn out wrong. Somehow, it had all gone wrong. Who did Draco blame? Potter of course.
Was he the reason of why he couldn't let go of his simple Wizard life? Was he the reason of why Draco did not want to snag immortality?
What a reason.
What a fucking reason.
Draco Malfoy stumbled into the room after whispering the password. The Prefect's bathroom was strongly scented with Asian herbs which fused harmoniously, and the room was faintly lit dim orange by floating candles. It was warm, comfortable and peaceful inside, and Draco watched as the reflection of the water ripples danced along the walls and ceiling.
Draco could hear another heart's beat. It was soft and relaxed, and Draco wondered who else used the place to cool off from an infuriating world outside.
"Malfoy?"
Draco whirled around.
Oh lady luck, Harry Potter.
And this Harry Potter was bare-chested and wet. His pants hung loosely on his fine hips and drops of water trailed down his nice, slender form. His hair was more tousled than usual, but his eyes were as startlingly green as ever before. Draco gulped.
"Why are you here?" The green-eyed boy whispered.
Draco Malfoy glared, "And I thought no one comes here."
"Well you thought wrong."
Silence followed. Draco looked away from the other boy, eyes wandering around the warm room instead. The clear, shimmering water looked inviting, but with someone else in the room Draco kept his clothes on. Wouldn't want to make a vampire slut out of him, would he?
Harry farking Potter was currently drying himself with a towel. Draco could hear the rustle in the fabric as he imagined the boy sweeping it down his torso. Draco made sure his eyes were in the opposite direction. He didn't know what would happen if he looked at the boy just about then.
"Err, Malfoy… It's late… Why are you here?"
"Why are you?" the blonde snapped back.
Harry rolled his eyes, "I'm taking a bath, Malfoy. Do I have to dance around naked to show you?"
"Yes, please do."
Harry blinked. "What?"
"Nothing. Nothing."
"You said something."
Malfoy regretted what he said very much, but he did his best to cover it. Sarcastically, as he turned around to face Potter, he replied, "Yeah, I said 'nothing'."
"No, no, you said something, and it wasn't nothing."
Flat-toned, "You're giving me a headache."
"But you still said something." retorted Harry, very curious at what the blonde had mumbled.
"It's not important."
"More reason why you could tell me."
"Look, Potter. Let's talk business. Not some shit about nothing…" An intake of breath, "I know some information about the Talim."
"But you said so— you… you do? How? What is it?"
Harry grabbed his own robe and wrapped it around himself, eyes still glued to Malfoy, as Malfoy brought up the small pocket book Blaise had graciously dumped on him. Harry walked closer until they were just an arm apart.
"This. " He flipped it open roughly and scanned the page, "Ill read it to you… Talims… Talims are pure-blooded creatures, and it is their youngest child who turns into the heir… Other siblings are slaughtered by the youngest as an initiation to the dark side unless they do not have siblings… goodie… The number that is carved unto their foreheads is the number of ancestors preceding the mother's side…They usually have the best eyesight and can rarely read minds, depending on the strength of their will. They acquire sudden intelligence on the Dark Arts and an ability of flight as well… AHA! Found it!"
Harry blinked, but listened intently, walking closer to Malfoy. The vampire continued, "The only way to stop a Talim is to kill it. The only way to kill a Talim is a kiss on the lips and a stab to the heart with any kind of silver blade."
Malfoy shoved the little book to his robe pocket, mumbling, "That will be easy, Potter. Hogwarts kitchens have a lot of silver knives."
Harry looked outraged, "I'm not going to kill you!"
"You'll have to."
"No, I wont." Harry looked as determined and as annoying as ever. Malfoy snapped and grabbed Harry's shoulders roughly, "Don't you understand, Pothead? It's the only way to stop me from killing you!"
Harry looked shocked at the moment, so Draco pulled away.
"You'll have to kill me, because if you don't… You and your friends will die. And You-Know-Who will have an additional warrior at his side."
"you wouldn't." Said Harry softly, disbelievingly.
Draco looked away, "Oh yes I would. You don't know my other person, Potter. He's evil. He's different. He isn't normal."
"Then fight him!"
"I've been trying!" Malfoy yelled, surprised at his harshness. Harry seemed to have been astonished as well, and Draco used it as a stepping stone. He shouted, "You don't know how much it hurts when I try not to grow!"
"The pain is like I'm splitting apart when I fight change! I try to starve myself from blood but it doesn't matter! It always wins, it knows what hurts the most! It feels like your head is being cracked open, like your spinning and spinning so fast you don't know which direction it's going. You feel like you're in hell, Potter, like the heat would make you explode."
"I've been writhing around on my bed every night, sweat on my face, trying my best to muffle the growling but it does not work! I still change, I still slip into that… THING… And it's getting stronger. And you better KILL me. The sooner, the better, it hurts that much!" Potter was speechless. Draco spat out, "You probably don't know because YOUR NOT THE FUCKING TALIM!"
Draco Malfoy was huffing at the end of this, but his steely silver eyes stayed steady and glaring. Potter did the one thing Draco did not expect him to do. The raven-haired boy wrapped his arms around the blonde.
Draco Malfoy felt a jolt of electricity run up his spine. His heart started beating rapidly, and, he mused, he heard Potter's heart beat along with it. Potter felt perfect in his arms, and Malfoy slithered an arm on his waist, bringing the younger boy closer.
Potter smelled like delicious cherries, and Draco wondered how he would taste. Slowly, taking up his courage, his lips traced Potter's fine collarbone and up to his ear, licking it softly. He heard Harry gasp, and his own heartbeat quickened. He trailed more down the ear and on to the neck.
Then he stopped.
The neck.
Damn the neck.
Potter had noticed the pause too, and he took a sudden intake of breath. He was a bit afraid, it seemed, and he wondered whether to trust Draco or to pull apart. Draco seemed to have thought of the same thing.
And the vampire bit his own lip and pushed Potter away. Potter looked up at him, with eyes that expressed so much emotions, and saw that Draco's silver eyes began to change. Into one of coldness.
Into ones of red.
Then the blonde fled out the door, leaving Potter alone and confused at his own behavior.
The lightning thundered outside, and the storm began…