Disclaimer: I do not in any way own Harry Potter.

A/N: Wow, this chapter turned out longer than I thought. I'm afraid I've only edited this one once as well, I'm just too tired and I want it out as soon as possible. I'm also back at school now-which sucks-so updates may be a little slower, though if I don't update for two weeks, feel free to yell at me to get a 'fuckin move on!'. Hee. Ok, this chappy has a bit of implications of Draco's past and sets up things for next chapter, where everything is gonna happen! Oh and I hope you like the harryxdraco at the end, it wasn't planned, it just came to me, so I hope you like!

Warnings: See first chapter, SLASH.

Night Time Gardens

When Harry finally woke, he wished for nothing more than to fall back to dreams. He was so comfortable where he was and so calm. Calmer than he had been in a long time; he hadn't noticed, but he had been carrying more tension in his shoulders then he had ever thought. He gave a small, slightly muffled sigh of weary contentment and buried further into the presence beside him….

…wait…why was someone in his bed?

Oh. Draco.

Even more surprising was that Harry didn't snap awake at this and take a tumble off the bed in embarrassment. He merely remained where he was, curios about how Draco had slight warmth to him, though he was much cooler in temperature than anyone he had met before. To be expected, considering Draco was dead. Or at least Harry presumed he was. It never occurred to Harry that this was an odd thought.

He couldn't fall asleep again unfortunately, not when he was cuddled up on his bed with a vampire. Huh, now there was a sentence he had never thought he'd think. Harry gave a dozy little groan and let his eyes slip open. He ended up staring right into grey ones.

"Don't you ever need to sleep?"

"Yes," Draco gave a slow blink, "just not nearly as much as you do."

Harry muttered a dark "Typical" under his breath and moved away from the languid blonde. He stretched, misjudged the length of the mattress, and toppled right of the bed and out of sight. Letting another, more defeated, sigh escape him, Harry dragged himself up and rested his elbows on the windowsill, ignoring Draco for the present. His mind was too embroiled in slumber at the moment to really care for anything at the moment.

He couldn't have been sleeping long; the sun was only just dipping beneath the horizon. Frowning, he wondered about his latest dream. He only hesitated to call them nightmares because he felt the word did not properly term them. For the past few months he had frequently had dreams that held a frightening undertone of hunting, entrapment and fear. Those, however, had merely been flashes of jumbled up emotions and half remembered echoes. It was only lately, that he had begun to experience them in this way. They were still muddled, only snatches, but he could easily recall them in his waking hours.

He shivered slightly, and was dimly aware of Draco shifting to join him in his gazing at the heavens.

This last dream though, was the most vivid, and violent, yet. His scar tingled lightly, and Harry resisted the urge to rub at it; at least it wasn't painful anymore. He sighed again and chanced a sidelong look to Draco, who was only staring impassively out the window. A small breeze blew, rustling the trees, and causing more autumn leaves to drop and fall.

Harry followed the other man's gaze, and observed the grounds. The sun had fully set by now, and a glittering twilight had descended in its wake. The sky had become a deep plum velvet, the stars peeking out from the gaps between the few clouds remaining from the storm a day ago. A shrieking cry cut through the night, a sound that Harry knew came from one of the white peacocks, and sure enough a pale shadow could be seen gliding across one of the lawns. Harry couldn't help but admire that the surrounding scenery looked far more beautiful at night.

Harry glanced to Draco once again. His expression was inscrutable, face softly inexpressive; it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. Harry let himself properly look at him.

Draco was taller than himself, but not tall enough to make him awkward in any way, unlike Ron who was downright lanky. His skin was almost pale enough to see the veins, yet managed not to make him look sickly, which was quite miraculous. He had silky, blonde hair that was nearly pale enough to rival his pallor. And Harry couldn't be entirely sure, what with the clothing, but he was quite certain that Draco was equally well sculptured as his features elsewhere as well.

Harry fought his blush valiantly and was rewarded when it turned out only a dull pink glow across his cheeks.

Harry, however, frowned at the said clothing on Draco's form, and not because it was there. Not at all.

Draco was wearing a flowing white shirt, the first few buttons missed off of course. Bloody vampire. His trousers were very fine and black, made of a material Harry couldn't possibly hope to name and silver buckled boots. In all, the vampire was well turned out. The same vampire who lived in a dilapidated wreck of a house. Something certainly was amiss here.

Harry let it go though, and returned to staring out the window. Everything was too peaceful at the moment to disturb it with anything. They both easily settled into a comfortable silence. Harry was therefore surprised when Draco broke it after a while of seemingly introspective quiet.

"Do you have a like for gardens Harry?" Draco murmured. It was so soft Harry nearly didn't hear him. He turned to look at the vampire; he was still gazing out into the night.

"I guess so. When- when I lived with my aunt, I, I was the one who- who looked after the garden. I always did like the flowers" Harry finished just as softly in return. His aunt had forced him to do the gardening, but he had enjoyed it more than others things he had to do. Even weeding was better than bleaching the kitchen floor, which Petunia had refused to provide gloves for, he remembered belatedly.

Draco finally twisted to face him and fixed him with a penetrating gaze. One that seemed to just say that he knew more than what Harry had just commented. Harry met him evenly though, still feeling extraordinarily serene. After only a moment or two, Draco withdrew his stare, apparently satisfied for the time being.

"The private gardens are far superior to these." Draco hesitated, "Perhaps you would like to see them? I don't think you'll sleep much tonight." He finished with a slightly more mirthful expression on his face.

Harry, however, was confused at this. He had walked around outside behind the house and had not seen any such 'private garden', nor had he seen it from any of the various windows he had passed by.

As if Draco had read his mind, which Harry wouldn't be entirely shocked if he had, he continued on, "you can only view them from my wing, or if you know how to reach them. They have become quite enclosed from the rest of the grounds over time."

"Oh."

"So, would you like to see them? They really are quite beautiful."

"Sure, not as if I have anything better to do" said Harry shrugging. "Wait, my wing?"

Draco just stood from his crouched position on the bed and answered with a magnanimous, "You'll see."

As Harry followed him out the door, he couldn't help but contemplate that Draco was far more mysterious than he had given him credit for.

After vainly attempting to memorise the way to…wherever it was they were going, and just finding himself dizzy for his trouble, Harry decided to just follow the man in front of him and observe from behind. And hope that he never had to come this way again by himself in future; he had more chance of successfully navigating his way to Moscow.

Just as Harry began to feel as if they would never reach their destination, Draco turned a corner ahead and they came face to face with a pair of cream coloured double doors; the golden handles not nearly as dull as the others Harry had seen. In fact, he had noticed as they were travelling, that the house had been becoming gradually cleaner as they went. These doors seemed to mark the entrance of hospitable lodging.

Draco slowed his pace and he gently pushed on the handles.

"This is the entrance to my wing of the house, and the most…comfortable too, surprisingly," he finished with a smirk.

Harry merely cast a doubtful look in reply. It might be cleaner, but he had yet to see any of the obvious former grandeur, and was therefore rather sceptical that this part of the house could be much greater than any other. Though, he supposed, if Draco was content to reside here, it must be, for Harry found it hard to imagine him being content with a normal set of rooms, let alone uncomfortable ones.

He was unprepared though, for what he actually saw as he stepped through the doorframe and so could not contain his surprise.

The marble, which he was accustomed to being hidden under several layers of dirt, was practically sparkling and was reflecting the low light from the few candles strewn across the walls. The panes of glass were clear and unbroken, some antique chairs sitting by a window were well polished and the upholstery was missing its usual moth eaten appearance. It all looked as if the whole area had been cast in a sort of stasis, as if it had never been touched since the time the house had fallen.

As Harry took a second glance though, he realised his mistake. Peering at a near by cushion, he realised that it was more restoration, rather than preservation. The floor had most definitely been buffed, and some of the ancient furniture seemed suspiciously modern at another glance. And that made no sense at all.

Harry sent Draco, who was standing in the middle of the hallway, a quizzical glance, but was not rewarded as the man simply gave an infuriating look of authority before turning to stroll down the rest of the corridor and turned yet another corner. Harry cursed under his breath, muttering about the "superiority complexes" of "bloody vain vampires". Nevertheless, he hastened to catch up, he really didn't need to get lost at the moment; he would never find his way out.

He reached Draco just as the silver haired man opened a door, leading to a large master bedroom.

"My bedroom…" he trailed suggestively, purring into Harry's ear and stepped into the room, gliding over to the large bay windows on the far side.

Giving off another round of expletives at the small blush that had made its way upon his face, Harry joined Draco into the room, looking about him curiously.

It was a large, spacious room, with soft yellow walls and plush off white carpet underfoot. Two velvet armchairs sat by a small window in the corner, and on the front wall, standing as a proud centrepiece, was a magnificent bed, covered with Egyptian cotton sheets and silken throes; it looked unbelievably comfortable. There were a few oil paintings on the walls, one Harry recognised as who he presumed to be Draco's mother, Narcissa. He looked up curiously and saw a curling chandelier, with electrical lighting. Harry chanced another flick of his gaze to Draco, dying to ask how this part of the house had been refurbished.

"If you have a question, just ask," Draco turned over a shoulder to look back at him, a smirk threatening to make an appearance.

Harry made a disgruntled sound in the back of his throat and leisurely walked to join him by the windows.

"You shouldn't read peoples mind you know. It's exceedingly rude".

Draco turned to him, looking rather amused, if the smirk that had broken free was any indication.

"Who says I'm reading your mind? Perhaps you're just that easy to read," he said teasingly.

Harry didn't dignify that with a response and simply twisted to stare out the window. He was forced to hold back a start of astonishment, though the vampire still noticed.

"Beautiful aren't they?" said Draco softly.

Indeed they were; the 'private gardens' still retained much of there splendour.

There was a thick, moss like lawn, still lushly green, and a raised patio walkway directly below the windowsill. The slabs were grey, like the rest of the stone in the manor, but were jagged in there fitting, rather than compulsively neat. There was a large flowerbed to the right, and also by a low brick wall that marked the end of the grass. They were full of delicate little plants, with large elegant flowers. Harry absently noticed that nearly all of them bloomed at night; the season didn't seem to make any difference. There were plants and trees from all over the world, he could see a Japanese maple with rich wine leaves, and a thicket of bamboo by the brick wall. A thick oak tree obscured most of the left side, but Harry could make out a small waterfall and pool lurking round the corner. The only indication that it was autumn, were the golden and rust red leaves that were scattered on the ground. The scene was made even more ethereal by the moonlight that filtered down, giving the same impression as dew on spider webs.

"They're stunning," Harry affirmed quietly.

Draco too was gazing out the window, though his eyes showed he was distant, as if remembering something long forgotten. He spoke just above a low murmur, sounding like he was speaking more to himself than to Harry.

"My mother planted them,"

Harry turned at the sudden proclamation. When he saw Draco, he realised that he was obviously reminiscing something and silently let him continue. So far Draco had revealed next to nothing of himself.

"She loved the gardens and grounds. I never understood why she liked growing things so…. these gardens she planted herself, tended them; they were her favourites. She always stayed outside as much as she possibly could, bent over and getting dirt all over herself." Draco turned to face Harry, who was a little startled at the abrupt movement.

"I could never care for all of the grounds of course, but these I try my hardest to clear. My mother loved them so very much. I still don't understand the whole gardening thing though," he finished a little more light heartedly, smiling a little, his grey eyes focusing again.

Harry cast another appraisal of the gardens, now clearly seeing the love that had to have gone into their design. Something caught his eye however. On the right, next to a tall mint pine, was a towering gate that blended so well into the shadows that it was extremely difficult to see. It was about twice as tall as himself and was made from dark wrought metal, with both the bars and lock being thick. And Harry was sure they would be heavy; there were deep groves in circular arcs on the patio slabs from where the gates had ground open and shut. The strangest features however were the spikes. They were horizontal and ran all the way up and down the sides, right in the middle. They were rough and uneven, coming to a point and jutting out from the rest of the metal frame by several inches. The oddest thing though, was that they pointed into the garden, not out on the other side like he would have thought.

"Draco, why are there spikes on that gate?" Harry asked hesitantly. The entryway was at a dire contrast to the rest of the gardens.

Draco's eyes immediately hardened and he answered stiffly, " My… father… was known for his eccentricity at the best of times."

Harry took the hint and kept quiet on the subject, though he couldn't resist one last glance towards the rather sinister gateway.

Instead Harry mulled over what he had just heard from a few moments ago. When he had spoken of his mother, Draco had done so with a sort of tenderness Harry had never heard him speak with before, whilst his father was obviously a sore spot for him. Harry sighed mutely to himself; Draco just kept becoming more and more mystifying. From the corner of his eye, Harry thought he saw one of the paintings shift slightly.

That led him to once again survey his surroundings and he saw a door he had previously not noticed as well. It was somewhat ajar, so Harry only had to lean forward a little to peek inside; he caught a glimpse of taps, marble and matte cream ceramic tiles. A bathroom obviously. Harry's interest was peaked again and he decided to call Draco on it.

"How is it, that the rest of the house is falling to pieces, yet here, not only is it in near perfect condition but has things like electricity?" asked Harry. He was insanely curious.

Draco gave a satisfied little chuckle, his mood lifted and Harry shivered violently as it washed over him, and prayed that the blonde hadn't noticed.

"I presume you spoke with that crazy old man who 'owns' this place, yes? Well, when he first 'bought' it, he was planning to refurbish it. I merely let him get so far before deciding he had done enough." At this point Draco smiled maliciously in remembrance of how he had resolved that situation.Suffice to say it had involved copious amounts of…drinking on Draco's part.

"If my home is to be remodelled I shall see to it myself. These rooms were damaged beyond repair but the rest of the house is perfectly salvageable, I won't let others ruin it," he continued smoothly.

Harry nodded in understanding, "Will you ever restore the rest of the place though? It would be beautiful I'm sure."

"Perhaps," said Draco musingly, "but unless there is…someone else to be here, I see no point. I sleep most of the time anyway."

"Why are you awake now then?" asked Harry accusingly. If Draco had been off sleeping somewhere his life would have been so much simpler.

Draco locked his silver eyes with Harry's, his voice lowering to that rumbling purr, "I felt your arrival charmant, and you interest me so…" as he spoke, faster than Harry could blink, the vampire was next to him. Draco leaned in and a trailed a finger softly down the shorter man's cheek, causing Harry to shudder in its wake.

As Harry fought flashbacks of the previous night, Draco continued, "and I have no idea why. I find you…enchanting." The last was accompanied by a sharp intake of breath as Draco began to nuzzle Harry's jaw.

The brunette wasn't blushing this time. He was far too involved in the sensations Draco was invoking. When he finally opened his eyes, the only thing he could see was the swirling silver of Draco's eyes; he was so close. Noses almost touching, Draco could feel every shallow breath Harry let fall onto his cheek. The dark haired man felt heady as his mind went hazy, and he felt his blood flowing faster.

Eyes slid closed as a small nudge brought them together, lips gently brushing against each other, sending chills through both of them before tentatively passing over. They pressed together once more, Draco bringing a palm to cup Harry's face, as their kiss became more fevered, Harry beginning to grip Draco's waist with one hand and with the other tousled silken strands of hair. He let out a small moan of pleasure and Draco began to trail nipping kisses down Harry's jaw line and down his neck, paying ardent attention to the jugular vein.

Harry was completely lost to the contact, his mind only registering delight as the vampire proceeded to lick his way back up his neck and down again. He didn't notice when grey eyes began to turn silver and as Draco's nips and kisses became harder. It just felt so…uh… good.

Harry gasped as Draco began to suck on his neck, and was immediately taken into a full-mouthed kiss, tongues meeting each other fiercely as they both gave loud moans at the feeling. Harry fisted the hand in Draco's hair tighter. So…good…

Draco's teeth began to descend down into elongated fangs, scratching the delicate skin as he moved from Harry's mouth back to his neck, leaving red trails. He sucked the mark he had left a few moments ago and continued his little bites and searing kisses.

Draco's eyes became swirling silver as he suddenly bit down, hard, fangs sinking deep into flesh. Harry gave a pained cry, which rapidly became a loud shriek of pleasure as Draco lapped up dark, glistening blood from the wound on his neck. The sensation was giving him ecstasy.

From the moment the blood hit his tongue Draco lost it. His modest taste the night before was nothing compared to this. So sweet, so …warm…nugh… He couldn't think of anything except the liquid sliding down his throat, murmurs of pleasure sounding in between swallows, one hand keeping Harry standing, the other stroking his hair and eliciting soft noises of appreciation.

That was until the blonde begun to feel the pulse beneath his mouth begin to slow. It quickly roused him from his feeding and with blood still dripping from his chin; he licked at the wound till it healed over.

Harry was dazed, eyes dilated and darkened. His mind couldn't process a single thing. As darkness began to gnaw at his vision, his last sight was of Draco, lips full and bright red, silver eyes shining in the low light, fangs descended with his blood falling from them and onto the carpet.

…oh…

A/N: So how was it? I've never really written slashy stuff, so I should get better in the future! Oh, and the answer to my last chapters question, ...well one person got it right, but I won't say who, coz that'd ruin my plot now wouldn't it? You can still guess though, if enough people get it right I'll tell you. And please review! I'll update faster!