Ok. Someone asked about M-preg and I decided to clear a few things up. I have only a vague idea where I'm going with this story. I would like to eventually do M-preg (harry as the chubby one), but if enough people don't like it, I will close this story sufficiently and write a sequel with that in it. I have no idea how many chapters this will be, or how it will end. So you'll just have to trust me:)

LL- I'm honestly confused about what you mean by personality changes. Of course I don't think gay people act a certain way. If you mean Harry being overly emotional, that isn't a personality change but a combination of repressed stress, and his maturing powers that his hormones aren't used to handling. As for Harry's 'speech', he said he didn't hate Draco. Perhaps Harry realizes what a powerful word this is, hmmm? Just because Harry doesn't hate him, doesn't mean he likes him in any way, shape, or form. Draco, to Harry, is a total bastard who hurts kittens and puppies and little Mudblood babies, and he's stuck with him. There was no blackmail on Draco's part whatsoever. Come on. He's been fighting with Draco for five years, I think you would give a resounding no also. Also, realize Harry is a teenage boy, and not even the wisest, oldest individual always practices what he preaches.

Disclaimer: Soooooo not mine

Harry Potter and the Alliance of Blood

Chapter Seven

As the Sorting progressed, Harry's thoughts were in termoil. He was furious at Dumbledore for not being warned. Harry had assumed that Dumbledore hadn't told him the Prince's indentity because he wouldn't have known the name anyway. He was also confused. Wasn't Malfoy's father a loyal Death Eater, and hadn't Malfoy always hated Muggleborns? Why would he defect to the Light side? How had Malfoy, a pure blood wizard, ended up as a Daywalker? Why did Mafoy want him, his biggest nemesis? Harry entertained the thought that Malfoy wanted him so he could deliver him to the Dark Lord, but then he couldn't be Prince. There were so many questions, and Harry felt dread in the pit of his stomach, because he knew that he'd have to ask the people he least wanted to talk to for answers. Overall though, was fear, of what would happen next. Harry hadn't realized it before, but he depended on Malfoy as a constant in his life. Malfoy would always hate Harry, Harry would always dislike Malfoy, they would always be at war with each other, whether it be over petty House rivalries or for thier lives. Over the summer, with Sirius's death, Harry had come to realize that in the war, people, many people, would die, and he would inevitably know some of them, be close to some of them. Hermione, Ron, Professor McGonnagal, Hagrid...they could all die. But the Dark side would also suffer casualties, which was harder for Harry to accept than the deaths of his comrades, because he would be directly responsible for the deaths of people he had once shared classes with. He had realized that one day in the not so distant future, he would find himself pointing his wand at Pansy Parkinson, or Blaise Zabini, or...especially, Draco Malfoy, who had sworn personal vengeance on him. And he had also realized that he might find himself looking down at the wrong end of the wand, and into the eyes of someone he had battled in the halls, in the classroom, on the Quidditch Pitch, before he had met them on the battlefield. Those necessary truths had been hard and painful to swallow, and now everything was changing. He would no longer have Malfoy to fight with. Their relationship, set in stone so long ago, had completely reversed, leaving Harry feeling lost, because nothing could ever be the same. He could never pretend that this hadn't happened. He felt indescribable sorrow, that even in this, things hadn't worked out the way he had expected. He remembered then something that had been quoted by one of his teachers: "Men plan; God laughs." Harry sighed as Zion, Kiara was sorted into Slytherin, and braced himself for the inevitable barrage of questions sure to come. Dumbledore said nothing, just nodded his head, and the plates filled. As little as ten minutes ago, Harry would have been grateful for this, but now he sorely wished Dumbledore had given an incredibly long speech. He turned to look at his friends, his emotions still on edge and on the breaking point.

"Harry," Hermione said gently, "is Malfoy...?" Harry gave a bitter laugh.

"The Prince? Yes. Whatever made you doubt it?" he snapped in reply. The rage began to flow upward, exceeding the other motions at a fast rate. The air a few inches from his skin began to chill.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, still in that same, gentle, coaxing tone that one would use to assure a wild rabbit that you weren't going to eat it. Harry opened his mouth to give a venomous reply, but slowly realized he was being childish, and closed his mouth. After a minute, he sighed heavily, burying his face in his hands.

"I don't know, Hermione." Suddenly, all he could think about was the Daywalkers joining Voldemort, and the Light side being slowly massacred, unable to stand against the enemy. He felt a tear leak from the corner of his eye, but he brushed it away hastily. What would he do? What he had to. He had a responsibility to those whom he was the only hope for the future.

"Harry," Ron said slowly, "I don't suppose you've read the prophecy..., I know this seems really hopeless right now, but really...it's not as bad as it seems. It will work out." Harry unconsciously brushed his hand over the ring hidden beneath his robes. Harry gave a weak smile to reassure his friends he wasn't going to go nutters on them.

"I hope you're right, Ron," he whispered in reply. Harry didn't eat that much, and only replied succinctly to his housemates' greetings, ignoring Hermione and Ron's soothings that he was having a bad day.

After the dessert had been cleared away, Dumbledore stood and cleared his throat. The Hall fell silent.

"Students. Welcome back to Hogwarts. I would like to present to you the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Gabriel." There was a smattering of applause. Harry didn't even bother. He wasn't feeling very friendly towards the man right then. Harry had mentioned Malfoy once or twice, and about how much of a prick he was, and the Daywalker had remained silent.

"Also, Professor Liam, the instructor for the new course, Dueling Theory and Pratice." More applause, to which Harry briefly contributed, since Liam hadn't known about his and Malfoy's rivalry.

"As almost all you will know, Voldemort has returned." A gasp of horror at the name, and a fearful silence. Harry suppressed a humourless chuckle at the dark comedy of the whole, dramatic situation.

"Please be assured that all precautions are being taken for your safety, and all efforts are being made to defeat this threat." Harry was sure some of the Slytherin's were glaring at the Headmaster, though he didn't have the guts to look.

"On a brighter note, a Valentine's Day Ball will be held, as per suggestions by Professor Sinistra. This will be quite a lovely event, open to all years. Further details will be given later in the year." Ron gave a soft groan, and Harry felt dread at the thought of dancing. He was awful at it. Hermione, however, was smiling happily, looking very...girly, something quite rare.

"A note to First Years that the Forbidden Forest is off limits, magic is forbidden in the halls, and curfew is at 9 o'clock. Dismissed." The Headmaster caught Harry's eyes significantly, and Harry nodded, sighing in resignation as he stood. He'd known this was coming. Hermione and Ron were rounding up the first years, and Harry whisper-yelled over the din into Hermione's ear.

"I'm going to go speak to Dumbledore. See you later." She nodded, and Harry quickly exited the Hall, heading straight for Dumbledore's office, not wanting to run in to certain people on his way there.

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Harry supposed that Dumbledore had a secret way to his office, because the gargoyle sprang aside the moment Harry arrived to reveal the Headmaster standing there.

"Come on up, Harry," he said, looking very serious. Harry swallowed a lump of nervousness and followed the elderly man up the stairs and into his office. Harry closed the door behind him, and immediatly stepped forward.

"You could have told me that Draco bloody Malfoy was the Daywalker Prince!" he yelled. Dumbledore sighed.

"And accomplished what? Your outright denial to accept it, and weeks to gather ammunition? Besides, I thought that maybe the two of you could speak first," he said calmly. Harry shook his head and rubbed his eyes, dropping down into the chair. They waited in silence. After a few minutes, a knock came upon the door, and Snape, Gabriel, and Draco filed into the room, all taking seats, Gabriel next to Harry, Snape next to Gabriel, and Draco next to Snape. A long silence followed, in which it seemed no one knew what to say.

"What needs to happen for my half of the bargain to be complete?" Harry asked cooly.

"You have to Bond, and stand at Draco's side when he is granted the crown," Gabriel replied slowly, carefully.

"And what exactly, is this Bond?" Harry asked, in that same bored, casual voice. He couldn't show the awful anger, and fear. He had a responsibility. He was no longer a child. Snape coughed, sounding as if he was covering a snigger. Gabriel blushed, and Harry was a little disconcerted, wondering what could make Gabriel blush...wait a minute.

"No. No way in Hell," Harry growled, leaping from his chair, moving across the room and as far away from them as he could get. The cold roared like a hurricane, swirling faster and faster within him.

"Rein it in, Potter, " Snape's voice broke through, "I think you've caused enough disasters in your short life." Harry slammed his fist into the wall and raked his fingernails down it, reveling in the pain and violence, but letting it ground him and help push back the wave of rage. He took two deep breaths, sagging against the wall, resting his forehead on the cool stone. He felt drained and slightly ill.

"We'll have to add some self-control to your lessons. You have way to much power for your own good," Gabriel said calmly, as if this was normal. It kind of was, since Harry had taken to having these episodes in the heat of a duel, though never so venemous. He turned back towards the other occupants of the room, Dumbledore's silence, Snape's dislike, Gabriel's caution, Malfoy's..., realizing again that he had no choice. He had to do this. He had no choice. He looked up and met eyes of molten silver, and his breath halted for a second. He didn't recognize the look in those eyes, and wasn't sure he wanted to. Malfoy rose out of his chair and slowly, gingerly approached him, coming to halt about a yard away.

"I...I need...a little time," Harry breathed, feeling strange at the Slytherin's close prescence, marginally disguising the plea in his voice. Malfoy nodded slowly, those eyes containing a softer expression than they usually did.

"Whatever time you need, Harry," the Slytherin said quietly. Harry looked away and nodded.

"I'm going." And he did.

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Ok...I know you guys must hate me right now, but I'm having a horrible case of writers block, and I'm being attacked by a vicious, fluffy, white plot bunny. I will try to update as soon as possible. One thousand millions billion pardons!