A Place to Call Home

The Differences Between Promises and Oaths

Disclaimer: On the new book that just came out, did anyone see my name anywhere on it…no didn't think so.

A/N: Thank you for all the reviews, I'm really surprised at the positive response I've got for this story. I hope this one is up to everyone's standards. Also, I'd like to take this chance and plug my two newest fics, Harry Potter: Boy Tennis Star and Switched: Chance or Destiny. They're AUs, but I really like the way they're turning out. I'd love if I could get some more criticism and comments on them. Finally, if there are any questions, comments, or criticisms: please review!

Summary: (AU) A vampiric Draco, who finds himself with a new blood donor in Harry Potter, must now face the challenges of Hogwarts anew and this time he has more than just himself to worry about.

It had been a month and a day since the day Snape had found him and Draco in the classroom; Harry knew that because he was counting them. He was counting them, one by one, until the day he could finally leave Hogwarts and Snape and perhaps even Draco; he was still deciding on that. He hated the way it made him feel…giving blood to Snape that is.

He hated the way he felt dirty afterwards. He hated the way he needed to retch over a bathroom sink after each drinking even if he hadn't had food for the past two days. He hated feeling weak and useless and barely being able to get up in the morning without the sadistically given Pepper-up potion that Harry had begged off Snape. He hated the way Draco let this happen every day. And he hated Snape, oh yes, there was a deep burning void in the pit of his stomach that was filled and filled and filled with his hatred and he hated feeling it; he hated realizing that he had unexpectedly grown up overnight and could suddenly feel horrible emotions like hate…he hated knowing that he could hate so much.

Then there was the question of telling his friends what had happened. He still hadn't "gotten around to it" though he had promised himself that he would. A promise…well people were breaking promises right and left these days, so one small could-be-swept-under-the-rug secret shouldn't bother anyone much. He didn't know if it was guilt or embarrassment that stopped his tongue or something entirely different, but he couldn't tell them…anything.

And so, Harry withdrew deeper and deeper into himself, hating Draco for not stopping Snape, his friends for still being children, Snape for…well, being Snape, but most of all, hating himself for completely and totally failing to cope with the situation. He staved off his friends by telling them that Draco was tiring him, Draco, by telling him that his friends were tiring him, his roommates, who knew of neither, by telling them that the increasing piles of schoolwork were tiring him, and Snape, well, at least he didn't have to lie to him. He was probably the only one who knew exactly what Harry was up to. No false smile or rather, false glare fooled him; he saw right through Harry…odd that.

Trying to escape from everyone, including himself, Harry spent hours alone, hoarding himself in the library, and then, when Hermione came in to badger him, he would leave, wandering around the halls until early in the morning. It was on of these jaunts that he would finally find something that would make his life interesting again: surprisingly, it was little more than a dirty little book lying on the floor…

Harry slowly walked around a corner and found himself in the dungeons. It was hours past curfew, almost one, but this was when Snape preferred to meet him. Draco would take his blood early in the morning, and Snape, in the evening. Harry had stopped caring a while ago. Finally, Harry reached a picture of a regal old man with a coiling snake around his neck.

Sighing, he murmured the well-known words, "Mudblood."

The picture creaked open and Harry slumped into the room, dragging his feet. Snape was bent over a potion, stirring it occasionally. Disinterestedly, Harry looked at the book he was working from. Potions had never quite caught his attention, but even with Snape as a teacher, he now had so much free time that he was excelling in his studies, even in that class. Thank Merlin his grades were only rising and rising, otherwise the Weasley's might have more than suspicion as a reason to drag him back home as Ron had threatened more than once.

Snape was creating some sort of strengthening potion; Harry had, lately, become very adept at recognizing them. "Don't just stand there. Come in." Snape snapped irritably.

"Sorry Sir." Harry said respectfully, "I didn't mean to interrupt your work."

Snape snorted. "Of course not. Sit down over there, out of the way."

Harry disregarded his orders and perched on top of the table where the ingredients to the potion were laying. He looked at the instructions quickly and then handed Snape the dried basil wood.

"That needs to be chopped first." Snape said without looking up.

Harry shrugged and placed the basil wood back on the table, proceeding to cut it into small even pieces with a knife. Finishing, he handed the pile of cut blocks to Snape, who scrutinized them for an instant before dropping the in the potion and stirring vigorously.

"The spiders' legs are next. You have to squeeze the juices out of them." Snape said dryly.

Silently, Harry took the spiders' legs and cutting them in half, squeezed the juice out with the side of his knife as Snape had once taught him after one particular disastrous attempt to help him with his potion. When the juice had squirted into a small pewter bowl and had then subsequently been added to the potion, Snape turned towards Harry giving him his full attention.

"How do you feel?" he asked stoically.

"Fine." Harry let his fingers trail along the edge of the table, disinterestedly.

"The potion" Snape gestured to the bubbling cauldron, "is for you. It's an experimental strength giver made especially for people like you."

"Great," Harry pouted, already tired from the emotion, "now I'm your guinea pig."

"You should be happy I don't toss you out on your arse when you're still out sold."

"Ecstatic." Harry muttered.

Snape snarled and roughly yanked Harry's head back, pulling sharply on his hair. Wincing, Harry let him until his head was bent at an awkwardly uncomfortable angle. Harry felt his insides shrivel up; his jugular was now prominently exposed. Even he could feel it beating. Dum… dum…dum…he shuddered unnoticeably. Despite their previous dry repartee, Harry wasn't naïve to believe that Snape cared one whit about him and for all he knew, this could be the day, the day when Snape decided that he had no use for Harry anymore and just disposed of him and then all his friends and then Draco and-

The rhythmic thumping of the bloodstone against his chest jolted him out of his momentary, but familiar panic attack and he unwillingly forced himself to relax. Draco's magic would protect him; he just had to believe in-

Then Snape bit down.

Harry arched involuntarily and then sank back into the table, clutching the sides so hard that his knuckles turned white. Pain blossomed across his eyes and throughout his entire body. Dimly, through a haze of pain, Harry noted the differences between the way Draco and Snape fed. He may have just been thinking about it too much, but really, when one was in his position, what else was there to do other than think? There seemed to be more than just a physical link between a vampire and his donor. There had to be an emotional link as well, otherwise there was no need for Harry to feel so gut wrenchingly awful when Snape drained his blood as opposed to the sense of rightness that took place when Draco took it. Trying not to kick or squirm, Harry wondered if the link carried over in a romantic sense, but immediately stopped when bile started rising in his throat. He didn't even want to think about that…especially not when they were like this.

Then, as always, before he could feel true agony, he let the darkness take him; in fact…he welcomed it.

Harry woke to his cheek pressed against a hard surface with some confusion (He never truly expected to wake up, you see.). Sitting up, he found himself lying uncomfortably on the table on his side with his legs hanging over the edge.

He groaned, soundly announcing his cognizance to all in the room who cared…not that anyone did. Harry shook his head slowly, trying to clear the small black dots out of his vision before he got up and fell on his bottom. Unfortunately, it was Snape who came to his rescue, steadying him with one hand and pressing a potion into his hand with another.

"Draco hasn't come down to carry you off lately." Snape remarked conversationally.

Harry didn't bother lying. "I stopped telling him when we were meeting…or where."

"Well…"Snape paused, "Find some way to crawl out of here yourself then. My hospitality doesn't extend to putting you up for the night."

Wrapping his torn dignity around him, Harry weakly pulled himself off the table and fell to the ground, shaking visibly on two unsteady feet. He staggered across the room and tripped through the trap door, fingers tightly gripping its edges.

Leaning on the walls for support, Harry stumbled down the corridor, trying to head for the Slytherin dorms, but his feet didn't seem to want to go that way. They wanted to go the way they had been walking, in a straight line and damn any turns or proper direction needed to reach the house of snake. This, of course, resulted in a lot of bruises and curses directed towards his disobedient feet, but if he didn't keep moving, he'd probably collapse.

Wandering on the second floor, Harry suddenly stopped dead, his stomach roiling. "Damn!" he whispered.

Looking around wildly, he sped towards what looked like a bathroom…he hoped. Slamming the door opened, he ignored, or rather didn't hear the shrieks of what sounded like a young girl. Instead, he threw himself over a sink and retched, throwing up water and the little rest that was in his stomach. Squeezing his eyes tightly, he let the nausea wash over him leaving him even more drained and tired.

"What are you doing here?" Harry jumped up at hearing the plaintive voice snap directly behind him.

"I…" Harry stared at the ghostly form of a young girl in front of him, "Umm…I'm in the girl's bathroom?" he asked weakly.

The young girl shrieked at him, shaking her wraithlike fist at him. Eager to get away from her, he stepped back, but missed on something, landing on his back. Looking down he saw a small dirty book lying on the ground. Frowning, he picked it up and flipped through it absentmindedly. If there was a name in it, he could return it. It looked like a journal, the entire thing was filled with handwritten notes and drabbles about-

What…what was this?

"You, Stop!" Draco sped up and grabbed the skulking girl by the arm and growled, "What the hell are you doing out of bed? It's almost three!"

"Aw, Professor…" she giggled, batting her lashes, "Night is so much more fun and everyone says that you wander around here at nighttime. Come on, you used to be a Slytherin; you understand, don't you?" The Slytherin sidled close against his body.

Impatiently, Draco pushed her away. He more important things to worry about- like a certain infuriating raven-haired boy with sad green eyes.

"Ten points from Slytherin. Go back to your rooms." he ordered, brushing past her.

"But Draco," she whispered, grabbing his arm as he passed, "I was only waiting for you."

Draco turned and stared at her. Well…it had been a long time since something like this happened. He grinned devilishly and leaned against the near wall. He could forget about Harry for a little bit; it wasn't like Harry had been the epitome of attention lately either.

Besides, things were starting to get interesting.

"My name's Mercy." she said, now openly flirting.

"Well-"

"Draco!" Harry ran up, flushed and panted.

"Harry! Ah…I mean, Mr. Potter, you should be in bed." Draco smirked at Mercy, "What is it about Slytherins today?"

Harry looked between the two confusedly, before edging between them and addressing Draco. "Then can you take me to the Slytherin dorms? I need to talk to you anyway."

"Give me one minute." he murmured.

"But Dra- Professor-"

"I'll be there in a minute, Harry."

"Isn't it way past your bedtime? Go to bed, kid." Mercy snapped, annoyed.

"I stay up way later than this, but now I need to talk to-"

"Not right now, Harry!" Draco hissed, finally turning to really look at Harry.

What he saw, made him look again, bemused. He looked wild…alive, hair flying and eyes bright. In fact, this was the most life he had seen in Harry in weeks…but now, after Draco's words, his eyes dimmed and his mouth lowered; it was the same subdued expression that had been following Draco around for weeks.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you, Professor Malfoy." he said stiffly, and then he was gone, sprinting down the corridor.

"Harry…"

Draco groaned and shaking off Mercy's questioning hand, he sprinted after Harry, catching up to the boy near the Slytherin dorms. "Harry," he whispered, "Harry. Harry, stop!"

Reaching forward, Draco grabbed the back of Harry shirt and pulled him into his back, just as Flinch passed, muttering to himself. Harry stood tense against Draco's body and until his exhaustion finally caught up to him and he collapsed against Draco with a small sound. Hearing the noise, Flinch turned and stared suspiciously at the corner where the vampire and donor were hiding.

Draco tightened his grip on Harry and pulled him farther back into the shadows, but at that moment, Snape walked up to Flinch and whispered something in his ear; talking quietly, the two disappeared down another corridor.

Sighing with relief Draco picked Harry up and carried him into a adjacent classroom. "Oh Harry," he sighed, "What's going on?"

Harry stared up at him with huge glassy eyes and for a moment he was sure that Harry was going to burst into a flood of tears and then it'd all be over. He sure that Harry was finally going to talk to him; he was finally going to let Draco help him…instead he handed Draco a small wet book.

"I found it. Isn't it amazing?" he said quietly.

"It's…" Draco stopped and flipped through the book faster.

No…he thought frantically, it can't be. Only the highest order of vampires have these and…that would mean that there's another vampire in Hogwarts…

"Harry," he rasped, "Where did you find this?"

"In the- the library." Harry stammered, disconcerted by the look on Draco's face, "Is…is everything alright?"

"Yeah…just put it back and don't speak of it again." Draco barked.

"But it's all about vampires. It has all these things about bloodstones and-"

"You can read it?" Draco asked surprised.

"Why yes. Can't you?"

"It's in Parsel-" Draco caught himself, "Put it back." he demanded.

Angrily, Harry snatched the book away. "I should have figured you wouldn't be interested in it." he muttered, turning to leave.

"Harry," Draco said turning him around, "Promise me you'll put it back."

Harry stared at him, his green eyes inscrutable. "Promise."

Snape finished leading Filch down to the imaginary disturbance in the third corridor and slipped into the Slytherin dorms, careful not to attract any attention. Creeping through the green clad common room, Snape stopped dead when he saw the small raven-haired boy. Harry hadn't even managed to reach his bed and had instead sprawled out on a plush velvet couch.

As Snape watched, the small young boy moaned discomfort and rolled over stretching. Jaw slightly agape, he snored softly, shifting on his side for an instant to reveal a raggedy, tightly clenched book clutched to his heart.

There was so much blood in that small body and it smelled- …Snape took two steps forward, before catching himself and stopping. He snorted and turned to leave, wondering about the strange feeling filling his heart.

To Be Continued…