Eeeeee, mucho thanks to everyone who reviewed: chinae, Minerva-Severus-Dumbledor, Zahrah Radcliffe, Landell, Diana Malfoy, Blue Rosed Dragon, Reika, Scythe, Ivy, Lanevaly, Lisette, Cherrygal3, Onyx, Joe-Jack(thanks for pushin' me, best enemy!), and spaceflawer5. Thank you all so much!

Anyway, I apologize for this update taking so long. . It's kind of a boring chapter, and it ended up being shorter than the last one. Boring chapters take longer to write. Eh. But the next chapter should be out sooner, 'cause it's not so boring. *Nods* And… let's see… Oh, I denno. ^^;; Just enjoy. Suggestions, tips, an' all that jazz are welcome.

Chapter II: The Decision

Harry stared up at the top of his four-poster, unable to sleep. His walk hadn't helped; the little visit with Draco had destroyed any shot at a good night's rest. He had honestly thought that the blonde was going to kill him. But…

He raised a hand to his neck, running his fingers gingerly over the area of skin Draco had nearly broken, and shivered. He could still feel two tiny indentations. Everything was just too weird.

Ron, Seamus, and the others were still sound asleep, unaware of his little troubles. He could hear Neville's quiet snores and Ron's nonsensical sleep-babble. For a minute, he thought to wake his redheaded friend, but then dismissed it. No use in bothering anyone else with what was most likely nothing at all.

He rolled over in the soft bed, trying to get more comfortable, but he knew it was useless. He would get no sleep this night. So he turned his thoughts to Dumbledore's request. For some far-out reason, he was actually toying with the idea of agreeing to it. But that would be playing right into the hands of the enemy. That would give Draco numerous opportunities to finish him. So what if there were guards? Murders can be very quick.

But he didn't kill me tonight, he mused. The perfect chance and he didn't do it. So why would he choose some other, riskier time?

Nothing was making sense. Why had he called Malfoy by his first name? Why? Fright? Anger? Well, Harry knew from experience that it wasn't anger.

He wondered idly how long it would be until he had to get up and rolled over again, curling up with his arms pulled in against his chest. A small gasp escaped him as his fingers brushed again roughly over the side of his neck. Gods, that spot was so sensitive now. It was annoying.

He pulled his hand down out of the way and shut his eyes determinedly.

* * *

"Get up, Harry. Come on, it's time for breakfast."

Harry opened his eyes drowsily to look up into Ron's face as the redhead shook him gently.

"Nmmm…?" he said incoherently. Had he fallen asleep?

"Time for breakfast," Ron repeated. "Get dressed."

Harry pushed himself up out of bed reluctantly as his friend went down into the common room.

Probably in a hurry to see Hermione, Harry thought absently as he grabbed some clean clothes and a school robe and headed off toward the bathroom to take a shower. His two friends had gotten together towards the end of the previous year and had tried setting him up with someone several times since. Needless to say, they had failed so far.

He stripped quickly and moved into the warm spray of water, closing his eyes and letting it wash over him and take the sleepiness with it down the drain.

He cleaned himself rather lazily, and as the water hit his neck, he felt a dull tingle. Just a shadow of the sensation it had been before.

That brought his thoughts back around to Draco. No, not Draco. Malfoy.

As he turned the water off, he realized he had already made up his mind. When he saw Dumbledore later, he would give his answer. His consensus.

He toweled himself dry, slipped into his clothes, and made his way out to the Great Hall, where most of the students were gathered already for breakfast.

"Morning, Harry," Hermione said brightly as he sat down across from her and Ron, whose mouth was occupied with a spoonful of porridge.

"Morning," Harry replied as he grabbed himself a piece of toast and began smearing a generous amount of butter over it.

"So, either of you know what happened to Malfoy?" Hermione asked in a conversational tone. "The Slytherins are having a right fit. Not even Crabbe and Goyle know where he is. They say he went out late last night and didn't come back." She halted to stare at Harry curiously. "Are you feeling okay, Harry?"

"Huh?"

"You're buttering your hand."

"Er… I'm fine," Harry said as he set down the knife and reached for a napkin to wipe his hand off.

Ron raised a brow at him and swallowed before saying, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." He had simply been debating on whether or not he should tell Ron and Hermione what he knew and had ceased to pay attention to what he was doing.

"… You know something, don't you?" said Hermione after a brief pause.

The question caught Harry a little off guard. "W-what?"

She lowered her voice. "You know something about Malfoy."

Okay. He'd tell them. But not here, not now. Someone might overhear, and then it'd be all over the school.

"Meet me in the library at lunch, okay?" Harry said quietly.

Both his friends nodded and said no more about it, simply finishing their breakfasts then going their separate ways for their first class.

When Potions (a class the trio had together) rolled around, Harry was practically dead on his feet. Apparently he hadn't slept very long last night.

He started slightly as Ron prodded him in the ribs when he began to doze off again.

"Come on, Harry. Now's not the time to be falling asleep in class. Snape is worked up enough as it is," he whispered. "Without his favorite little snake here he's in a real sour mood, so of course he's taking it out on the class. Well," Ron paused to look over at the side of the dungeon the Slytherins occupied, "he's taking it out on the Gryffindors anyway."

Harry groaned but he knew Ron was right. He really couldn't afford to fall asleep anyway; Snape was assigning a pretty difficult potion and it was rather hard to take notes with his eyes closed and his head down on the desk.

He felt a little sorry for Snape, though. He hadn't realized the professor actually cared so much for Draco—Malfoy—until last night.

"Professor?" Pansy called out loudly, interrupting Snape's lecture on the use of scarab shells in their current potion.

He sighed agitatedly and replied, "Yes, Miss Parkinson?"

"Where's Draco?"

A hush fell over the dungeon as everyone stopped what they were doing to listen.

Snape faltered for a moment before clearing his throat purposefully. "Mr. Malfoy's current location is irrelevant to this lesson, Miss Parkinson."

"But—"

"I refuse to answer any questions not pertaining to the topic at hand."

"But Professor—"

"That is the end of this discussion, Miss Parkinson." Snape's voice was hard and cold, worse than usual.

Pansy stared down at her desk sullenly, and Harry and Ron exchanged a private glance. Snape had just gotten onto one of the students of his own house.

Lunch finally arrived, and it found Harry pacing back and forth in the rear of the library, waiting for his companions. They got there quickly enough, and the three retreated to a secluded corner where they could talk without the risk of being overheard.

"Okay, Harry," said Hermione quietly as they all took a seat at the small table, "what's going on?"

"Malfoy was attacked last night," Harry replied, getting right to the point.

"Attacked by what?"

"A vampire."

A smug sort of grin worked itself onto Ron's lips. "So that bloody prat finally got what was coming to him."

"I wouldn't count on it, Ron," Harry mumbled.

"What?"

"The vampire… turned him. He's in the hospital wing right now, in a private room without any windows."

"… What!?"

Hermione looked a little scared. She was no doubt remembering all the times Malfoy had fixed her with his cold, malicious stare, whispered "mudblood" loudly as she passed him in the hall, smirked at her, taunted her.

"Hush, Ron!" Harry hissed.

The redhead was positively furious. "That slimy git is a vampire now!?"

"Ron! Be quiet!"

Ron was about to say something else, but Hermione clapped a hand over his mouth and gave him a stern look, and he calmed down a bit.

"There's something more, isn't there, Harry?" she asked as she withdrew her hand.

Of all the times for Hermione to be her usual perceptive self…

"Well, Dumbledore said something about getting a group of some of the older students together to… act as donors for Malfoy's new appetite," Harry said slowly, thinking as he spoke.

"And he wants you to be one of them," Hermione supplied.

"Yeah…" He saw Ron was about to make an unneeded comment and continued: "The weird part is… I think I'm going to do it."

"What!?" The redhead was on his feet in an instant. "Why in hell would you do something like that!?"

"Shh, Ron! Sit down!" Hermione commanded in a harsh whisper, but she was ignored.

"Harry, honestly! He'll kill you, and you know it!"

Harry looked up at his best friend and shook his head. "… No. I really don't think he will."

"Why the hell wouldn't he?"

"… Because he didn't last night."

That evening, Harry made it a point to find Dumbledore right after dinner. The headmaster was waiting, as he suspected, in the same classroom in which they had spoken together the night before.

"Have you come to a decision then, Harry?" Dumbledore inquired of him.

"I'll do it."

"Ah, very good. Tonight, however, I advise you to stay clear of Mr. Malfoy's room. We have appointed someone else for him this evening and that someone has not stopped in yet, so the hour finds him rather unlike himself."

Rather unlike himself?

"Okay, I'll avoid it," Harry answered. Of course, he had no intention of doing so.

Dumbledore regarded him silently for a moment, that familiar twinkle in his eyes, that twinkle that, to Harry, meant that the man knew something and wasn't sharing.

"Very well then," he said finally. "How does Friday sound to you?"

"Fine," Harry replied.

"Ah, good. Nine o' clock Friday evening then, in this room. If anything changes, I'll be sure and let you know."

Harry nodded his understanding as the headmaster left, and as soon as the older man was out of sight, he rushed back to the Gryffindor dorms to grab his invisibility cloak.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked as Harry was exiting the portrait hole.

"Er… for a walk?"

"Why're you taking that?" He gestured to the cloak. "We don't have to be in our dorms yet, Harry. No need to sneak around." He paused and raised a brow when his friend didn't reply. "Unless you're going somewhere you shouldn't."

"Not too hard to figure out, is it?"

Ron's eyes darkened. "You're not going to see him, are you?"

"I'm just going to take a quick peek, really. I've never seen a vampire before now, I'm curious. Even if it is Malfoy," Harry said rapidly, trying to get it all out before Ron could protest.

"Harry, I don't think it's a good idea."

"I'm glad you care, Ron, really, but I'm going anyway."

"Harry—!"

But Harry was already out the door and halfway to the infirmary, cloak pulled tightly around him.