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Chapter 5

Harry

I hate the spotlight; having everyone's eyes on me is something I had never been able to get used to. At the Dursleys' I was nothing more than a shadow and the better I fulfilled my role, the less likely it was that I'd get into trouble.

Trying to adapt to the change of living in obscurity to life in the wizarding world has always been a bit overwhelming, but it is especially so now. After becoming... what I've become, I wanted even more to be able to return to my anonymous state and be forgotten, but they won't let me.

Everywhere I went I was flanked by a crowd of yammering teenagers, which was not only grating on my oversensitive ears, but also on my stressed nerves. They teased me with their close proximity and constant touches, and I was becoming hard-pressed to restrain myself.

It scared me. I didn't want to hurt anyone, but it was becoming more and more difficult. I desperately wanted them to leave me alone, but I didn't say anything lest they became suspicious.

I found myself wondering what the ministry did when it captured a vampire. I had been trying for some time to find out, but I couldn't find the information anywhere. It was not like I could just ask Hermione either, as she had always been far too clever and I wasn't ready for the consequences of being discovered.

I knew it would happen eventually as I was not naive enough to believe otherwise, but the longer my condition went unnoticed, the better.

My friends may have always surrounded me, but that's not what truly had me worried. Malfoy was watching me, and those sharp grey eyes missed nothing. He was the one I feared the most, other than myself.

There was no telling what he'd do when he found out, and that scared me too.

Apparently, my famous Gryffindor bravery had deserted me.

I'd started spending more and more time away from the tower and my friends, but it wasn't doing much good. I still had to sleep there and that was when my temptation was the strongest.

Apparently I'd been 'neglecting' my friends long enough because Ron confronted me about it, and it wasn't very pretty.

I had returned to the tower shortly before curfew and was heading towards the stairs when I found my path blocked by my best mate. It would have been so easy to remove him (there were so many things I could have done to make him move), but I didn't attempt to do so.

"Yes, Ron?" I asked politely, though my voice was noticeably strained. My eyes had traveled to the pulse in his neck of their own accord and I had to tear them away in order to meet his gaze.

"Want to play a round of chess with me?" His voice was overly cheerful, but his eyes were wary.

"I'm tired Ron, maybe later." I moved to go around him, but he didn't budge, just crossed his arms over his chest and snorted.

"I just bet you're tired. What exactly do you do all night? Because you never sleep."

I daydream about sinking my fangs into your neck and bleeding you and everyone in the vicinity dry. I don't say that out loud, of course, but I couldn't stop the thought.

"That's none of your business Ron," I replied blandly.

He swore at me, and started yelling about friends and secrets and I was not exactly sure what else because his rush of temper increased his pulse and it was the only thing I could hear.

"I don't have to deal with this," I forced myself to say past the fangs making their home in my mouth. Pivoting, I headed back out again.

"Where are you going, Harry? It's after curfew." That was Hermione, and I could hear Ron spluttering in the background.

I simply shrugged and stepped back into the hall.

dmhpdmhpdm

Returning to the tower once everyone was asleep was a mistake. I wasn't not sure what triggered it, but the minute I stepped inside my vision bled and my mind blacked out.

A small part of me was aware I was heading up the stairs and that I had entered the first room I came to: the first year dorms.

Their steady heartbeats kept me in a trance as my fangs grew and I glided towards the first sleeping child.

I crawled onto the bed next to the boy and sank down to burry my face in his neck. It only took me a moment of searching to find the perfect spot before my fangs descended and blood filled my mouth.

The tang of the crimson liquid on my tongue was what woke me, I believe. My whole body froze and I could feel blood dripping from my lips and onto the pillow as well as drag a crimson line down the boy's neck.

My hands curled into fists as my mind was screaming at what I'd just done. Once I was free of my shock, I carefully removed myself from the bed.

I was trembling, and my eyes were fixed on the red stain on the sheets. I had to get out of there, but I couldn't leave him like that-evidence of my moment of weakness.

I cleaned him up quickly and carefully-watching as the wounds in his neck healed over-before I fled the room.

I wasn't sure why he hadn't woken and I was grateful that he hadn't, but that didn't change anything. I had attacked someone.

It had started; I was becoming a monster.

This left me with little choice. I could not return to the tower again.

I would find some empty classroom and stay there. The less contact I had with people, the better. I even contemplated leaving the school permanently, but I couldn't quite bring myself to do it.

dmhpdmhpdm

My moment of weakness seemed to have made my thirst become stronger and I was struggling, not only with myself, but with my classes.

I was distracted, and thirsty, and I hadn't slept in what felt like years. Naturally this had a negative effect on my academic performance. To say my professors were angry was an understatement, and if Hermione could have gotten her hands on me I would have been subjected to a multitude of lectures, I was sure.

I avoided the tower at all costs, not even returning to sleep. My tolerance for normal food was at an all-time low and if I could get away with it I would skip out on the Great Hall as well. I hadn't spoken with Ron or Hermione since the fight, if you could even call it that, and I felt guilty every time I saw the first year I'd bitten. Luckily, he didn't seem as though he was suffering any adverse effects from coming into contact with my fangs.

When everyone else was safely tucked into their beds, I roamed the corridors until I grew tired of my mindless wanderings and slid down to sit at the base of a wall in some random corridor. It had become habit by then as I laid my head on my knees and tried my hardest not to think; any subject was too painful.

It was during one of these moments that I must have done an even better job at clearing my mind than usual because I never heard the footsteps moving in my direction from down the hall. I only noticed when the person knelt in front of me.

"You can't sleep out here," a familiar voice drawled. "You need to go back to your dorm." While the voice was familiar, the tone he used was not.

I raised my head and locked eyes with my blond rival. There was a brief flash of surprise in his eyes that was echoed in his voice when he gasped, "Potter?"

I felt like rolling my eyes but I felt too lethargic.

"Hmm." I murmured, my head tilting as I watched the play of moonlight in his hair. I didn't know why, but it was fascinating. "Malfoy, what time is it?" I asked, though I didn't really expect an answer.

He was eyeing me strangely, not that I really cared, "It's close to eleven." He replied, startling me with his cooperation. I wondered if he'd be so cooperative if I had my fangs buried in his neck. The thought didn't disgust me as much as it really should have. "You need to get back to your dorm before I decide to take points away."

I couldn't have cared less about the points, and I certainly didn't want to go back to Gryffindor Tower. So I decided my best course of action would be to ignore him.

He didn't seem fond of my choice, though, because in the next moment he was raging at me. "Just what is wrong with you, Potter?" His voice was low and dangerous and sent thrills through my body, "You're not dead, so snap out of it."

It wasn't all that funny, but the irony of those words, coming from Malfoy of all people, had me laughing so hard I couldn't breathe. I wondered what he would do if he knew just how wrong he was. I may have still been walking around, but for all intents and purposes I was dead.

My reaction seemed to have bothered him if the look he was giving me was any indication. He chose to ignore it and grabbed my arm instead, hauling me to my feet, "Come on, Potter, up you get."

I had half a mind to tell him no and to bugger off, but I stamped the urge firmly into the ground. If I did that I know we'd end up fighting, and I couldn't afford that kind of recklessness for the same reason I couldn't before.

"What are you doing out here anyway?" he demanded, his voice hard but lacking the usual icy quality that was usually present when he addressed me.

My head was once again firmly resting against his neck, but the scent of his skin and the steady pulse of his blood somehow relaxed me instead of exciting me as usual. "Couldn't sleep." I murmured against his neck, resisting the urge to nuzzle against him. "Why are you being so nice to me anyway?" I asked in an attempt to distract myself.

I felt him flinch under me, although I probably wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't been so close. "Don't be delusional, Potter. I'm not being nice to you; I'm doing my job as head boy."

Yeah, right, I thought. I didn't know that being Head Boy meant that you had to escort you're schoolboy rival back to his bed while practically carrying him. Even as distracted as I may have been, I still had enough presence of mind to notice how much I was leaning on him. "Why can't you sleep?"

And that really wasn't any of his business. I replied with a brief shrug, "You wouldn't understand." Of that, I was sure - no one could possibly understand.

We parted ways once we reached the dorms and I was forced to go inside, but that didn't mean I had to return to my bed; I decided to crash on the couch instead.

With the strange lethargy brought on by Malfoy's presence absent, all of my previous concerns and fears began to return. I was more at peace than I had been in a long time, though, and it was vaguely surprising to find myself easily slipping into my dreams.

The next morning, however, I was awake and gone before the rest of the house even began to stir. It was for the best, really; if only I could have convinced the lonely ache in my heart of that.

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