A dark dark night Chapter 10: Wakings, a harry potter fanfic

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

A/N: Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry! Nearly a month! I am really sorry. It's been a bit hectic with schoolwork and then I've been in a bit of an anime faze too. And this chapter isn't even longer than usual either. BUT, there is a wonderful thing called half term! Two weeks, where I should hopefully get a lot more writing done, so yay! Oh, and thanks so much for reviews last chapter, 16! Most ever, aiming for 20 now, so please review.

Warnings: See first chapter, SLASH.

Wakings

Tick…

A simple clock that hung on the wall continued its steady pace through time, the sound echoing in the stillness far longer than it usually should. Or, at least, that's what it felt like to Draco. The sturdy rhythm it chimed out was slowly driving him to madness. It was ricocheting around his head, making him uncharacteristically twitchy. Not to mention agitated.

A bell tolled, singing out the midnight hour. Another night gone, Draco thought bitterly to himself. It was now in the early hours of Monday morning, Harry had died late on Friday night.

The blonde man sighed, letting a rush of air whistle through his teeth, and slid his gaze to the prone figure lying on his bed.

Tick…

Two days…he couldn't even check if he was Turning properly, if he was at all. There was no warning, which he was aware of at least. Draco wasn't even entirely sure how long Harry was supposed to be comatose for; he had had no sense of time passing when he himself had Turned. The wait was effectively causing premature insanity to set in with a vengeance.

Draco felt the long abandoned habit from childhood rise up in him, but managed to restrain himself from gnawing on his fingers. His mother had told him, once, a long time ago; that it was a common ailing, and that his nails would suffer for it. He settled for beating a hole into the table with his finger instead, tapping far more incessantly than that bloody clock.

Tick…

It was worse than listening to water dripping, he was certain of it.

Draco had never Turned anyone before and, from the other vampires he had briefly met in his time, he understood it to be a very individual and delicate process. Thus, he had in his possession only the experience from his own, which had not been idyll in any sense of the word. Not that dying a painful death, only to be resurrected as a dark creature of the night could ever be 'idyllic', but still.

The vampire forcefully removed his gaze from the form on the bed. For all intents and purposes it was nothing more than a corpse; there was no heartbeat there, no intake of breath. Two days. Surely, Harry should have Awoken by now?

Draco sighed sombrely once again and focused on blocking out the unremitting 'tick' coming from the opposite wall. He truly could do no more than wait.

It was dark. Very, very dark. No to mention cold. Harry wasn't entirely sure, but he felt as if he had been freezing his entire life, and had only just realised it. His mind felt as if it were disconnected from the rest of him, and his limbs held a lack of sensation that should have been frightening; the overwhelming shadows that surrounded him took away any of his fear.

He did not know how long he laid there, alone in the dark, thoughts spinning around his head with entirely no order at all. That was, until the first faint feelings of a burn began. It was easily detectable through the numbness and as soon as he was able to focus attention to it, it rapidly grew in intensity, becoming a raging fire sweeping remorselessly through his body.

It raced from the depth of his bones outwards, radiating up to his spine, where it then sparked veraciously and shot up immediately to his head, scouring his nervous system mercilessly. The pain was almost utterly intolerable, the fact that he couldn't seem to move, to even try to be able to search out some sort of relief making the experience all the more excruciating.

It did, however, have the side affect of dragging his mind back together, at an alarming pace too. It was almost as if everything had suddenly jump-started, as he lay there, bathed in burning flame. Images sped past his mind's eyes, far too fast to be processed, while his limbs jerked as nerves rewired. Memories continued to flash through his mind until he heard a sound. The last, and simultaneously first noise of his life; the moment of his death. It was a thick, wet, slicing resonance, and of metal rending through flesh.

Harry's eyes snapped open.

Draco, as tense as he was, was immediately aware when Harry finally showed some sign of movement, and as lashes flew open, he swiftly leapt from his chair and made his way to the bed.

Harry's eyes were large and staring, forced open unnaturally wide. As soon as Draco sat on the edge of the bed, his unseeing gaze fell straight to the vampire. Draco anxiously observed that Harry had begun to shake, at first only a slight tremor, isolated, that rapidly grew to cover his entire frame.

It was at this point, Harry seemed to realise that he was not breathing. As he tried to draw breath, all he did was start to splutter. His body simply refused to inhale, his throat seizing, sending his distraught mind into a panicked frenzy. As he attempted to breathe with greater force, his body began to jerk and shudder limply, and with great ferocity, causing Harry to choke on his own failed breaths.

As Harry started to spasm and his shaking turned into a full-fledged fit, Draco desperately pulled Harry up into a sitting position, taking care to support his head with his hands, lest Harry damage himself with his shuddering. With his new position, the smaller man quickly started to toss, twisting in on himself reflexively.

A sudden jerk, and a roll to the right had Draco relinquishing his hold momentarily so Harry could vomit harshly into a well-placed bucket Draco had left there the day before. Shaking pitifully, Harry managed to turn back onto the bed cover, still vainly trying to breathe. Fraught with trepidation and unease, the blonde quickly forced Harry to face him, determined to get him to focus.

"Harry…Harry!" he growled lowly, "Look at me…I said look at me!"

Harry's large green stare precariously fixed on the vampire's, still quivering in a very disquieting fashion.

"Calm down! Just look at me…it's alright…I promise…just listen to me and try to stop thinking, …relax…" Draco hushed in a much softer tone of voice.

After an excruciatingly long minute or two, Harry began to calm, releasing the tension that wrapped around his chest and his tremors gently easing off until he was lying limply in Draco's embrace.

Satisfied that the danger was passed, Draco smoothly propped Harry on some cushions next to the headboard and pulled back to a respectful distance, his silver eyes fading to grey. As his little charmant did nothing more than remain gazing at him wide eyed, the vampire gave a weary sigh. This entire affair was wearing on him terribly; it would be good when Harry was fully Turned, but until then…it would require patience and restraint. It was unfortunate that Draco had not practised in either discipline in a very long time.

Harry was confused. Or, at least as confused as his blank mind was capable of being at the moment. He felt so…weak, and tired, and his body felt far too heavy. And the back of his mouth was burning from when his stomach turned, leaving a vile taste lingering in his mouth, and adding to his nausea. Giving in, he groaned and twisted his head to retch into the bucket once again, only resurfacing when satisfied there was absolutely nothing left in his stomach.

Slightly more aware of his surroundings, Harry attempted to piece together how he came to be in this situation, lying on Draco's bed and…

…not dead.

Panicking slightly as his previous memories caught up to him, he hastily checked his chest for any sign of injury. There was none, nothing at all. Unless, of course, one counts the thick encrusted layer of blood staining his shirt, hands and various other places.

A new sort of panic rose through him, an irrational fear bubbled through his subconscious and his gaze inadvertently swept to the figure leaning at the other end of the bed.

Harry could distinctly remember dying; the cold, the pain, the darkness, the scarlet staining the paving slabs beneath him. He had felt his life dim.

So why was he still here?

Sparing another glance at the unmoving form that was Draco, Harry shakily looked at his hand. His fading tan had paled to a rather pallid white colour, not quite as fair as Draco's, but still dramatically lighter than he remembered.

Feeling his dread rise further still, Harry fisted his palm tightly, tension racking through him.

"Deh -dra co…" his voice came out as a rough whisper, air moving stiffly over his lips.

He saw Draco tense, as if hoping Harry wouldn't ask of him what he knew he would.

"How…how am I still alive…?"

The vampire lowered his head slightly, and let his eyes slip closed. He was not going to shy away from this; he was far better than that. Besides, this wasn't a bad thing, not at all.

Firming all resolve, Draco spoke, " I Turned you."

It was such a simple statement, delivered softly in a low murmur, and yet, it made the terror that had been rising within him settle deep within his bones. Harry felt cold, his skin prickling unpleasantly with it. He felt the burn of tears sting his eyes, and his hands began to shake again. He forcibly quelled it, as well as the urge to cry.

Instead he settled for a small, soft, "oh."

Draco, for his part, was trying to remain serious and keep any amusement off his face; he had noticed that his charmant had the tendency to utter that little 'oh', whenever he could come up with nothing to say. He really shouldn't have found it as amusing as he did.

Seeing the emotions swirling about in Harry's head, Draco settled himself to wait for the other inevitable question. In the meantime, the blonde decided to properly observe for the first time, what changes had occurred to his minuo.

The first thing to notice was the complexion; Harry's skin was now quite wan, though it would continue to pale further over the next few days. His features also seemed more defined, especially his eyes, though this was most likely due to the paler countenance and that his glasses were no longer present. He mused that Harry had most probably not noticed that he was not wearing them any longer.

The more subtle changes were harder to pick out. For instance, Draco knew that it wasn't only his charmant's sight that had improved, but other senses as well, perhaps not enough to notice at the moment, but all in time. Possibly the most difficult to detect was the breathing; as Harry had not completed Turning, he still required the oxygen intake, though much less than a mortal usually would, though this would cease within the next week or so too.

Draco sighed, he fervently hoped that he could ease Harry onto blood as smoothly as possible; he harboured no desire to become involved in any sort of morality. Draco could barely retain the shudder at the thought.

His absent musings were interrupted by a small, lost, little voice from the headboard,

"Why did you do it? Why did you do this to me?"

Ah yes, the other dreaded question.

Draco regarded Harry for a moment, pondering his answer, silently observing the huddled creature that Harry made; at some point he had grabbed the nearest cushion and was now holding it tightly against him.

With another weighted sigh, Draco finally deigned to answer,

"Because I couldn't let you die," he said quietly, at Harry's uncomprehending stare, he continued, "I have spent over three hundred years serving out eternity in solitude, until nothing could hold my interest for more than a passing moment, only waking long enough to feed, numb to the passage of time. Then…there was you."

Harry blinked and the vampire was suddenly crouching directly in front of him, eliciting a startled squeak from Harry and causing him to grip the pillow tighter. Nose to nose he carried on,

"Who has somehow managed to make me happier than I think I have ever been."

Harry started at that, " but, I mean…I haven't really done… anything…" he said confused. This whole situation was unbelievable, and it was making his head hurt. And Draco wasn't really helping matters being so close either; he could feel the wisps of air tickling against his skin.

Draco lifted a graceful hand and swept some dark locks behind an ear,

"And that is why you mean so much…"

Before he knew it, Harry felt cool lips brush against his own, sending a pleasurable shiver down his spine. He couldn't help but open his mouth and let Draco's tongue slide over his own sensually, causing him to groan in satisfaction. Arms twined around him and tightened passionately, the kiss turning possessive.

Harry felt the cold die away as warmth suffused him, shifting slightly as Draco moved so his knees were on either side of his waist. Harry let out a small sigh of contentment as they parted, both far too drained to progress any further.

It had done what it needed though; Harry's emotional turmoil had been soothed away. Almost as if it had never been in the first place. For at that moment, nothing else seemed to matter, apart from the blonde vampire that was lying beside him.

Calmed, he soon fell to sleep.

Upon waking, Harry remained perfectly still, not even moving to open his eyes. It was an instinctual urge, the one you get when you are utterly sure that movement would result in large amounts of stiff, aching pain. The fact that he felt pleasantly warm and sinfully comfortable might have helped as well.

It was therefore unfortunate that his mind refused to co-operate and instead of dozing peacefully, Harry went straight to awareness. In fact, he woke almost unnaturally …fast.

That was all it took for the events of the past few days to ram any hope of continued sleeping out of the proverbial window. Silently mourning the loss, Harry managed to summon enough energy to try turn over slightly so he could rise.

It was there that he met problems.

There was some sort of resistance preventing him from sitting up, and was limiting his movements. From the way his head was twisted on the bed sheets, Harry couldn't see what it was either. Joy.

He continued to struggle for some minutes more, before a particularly violent tug freed him from the confines of the covers and sent him careening onto the floor with a shocked yelp.

Ignoring the pain in his arm, Harry glanced back to the bed, searching for what had caused him his struggle. It did not take long to identify the source as being a certain blonde vampire, who was still sleeping quite contentedly.

Cursing under his breath and blushing slightly from the knowledge that he had must have been completely entangled with the man while he slept, Harry remained huddled on the carpet.

It was then that the achy pain came back, accompanied by an appropriate wince. Harry felt as if all his muscles had been pulled all in one go, and then chopped in half several times before being sewn back together. He felt slightly cold as well, the nagging kind, that prickles and lodges down the back when ill.

It was day, he noted idly, though Harry couldn't be sure which one, as he didn't know how long he had been unconscious.

He let his gaze wander the room, he had never seen it in the day, and the last time he was here he only gave Draco's room a passing glance.

It was as he caught sight of himself in a full-length mirror next to an antique chest of drawers that he was faced with both the truth, and the inevitable.

His reflection seemed paler, washed out as if it couldn't properly focus him. His skin itself had bleached to a much lighter colour, making his hair appear darker, and his eyes brighter, which widened when he finally noticed that he no longer wore his glasses, and that he hadn't for some time, yet could see perfectly well.

Alarmed, he made a quick check of his teeth with his tongue, but was immensely relieved to find that his canines were just as small and blunt as he remembered. He was calmed enough not to go into a full fledged panic attack at his reflection.

Harry swallowed, still gazing enraptured by the image lying innocently in the glass. His hair looked a little softer and the slight scars on his hands, remnants of nicks and scrapes had smoothed over, leaving white unmarred flesh behind. His reflection unsettled him; there was just something not right about the picture it presented. It took him a few moments of searching to realise what was wrong; in his shaken state of mind, he had completely forgotten to breathe. He stared at his chest, which lay unmoving under his blood-tarnished shirt.

It finally hit home. With a startled gasp of horror Harry came to the realisation that he hadn't been unconscious for the past two days…he had been dead.

Harry managed to restrain the sob, but couldn't stop the tear from falling down his all-too-pale cheek.

He had learnt from an early age that in life, you just had to take it as it comes, the good and the bad, and not to panic when something you didn't expect pops up right in front of you.

But right then, none of it mattered; it would never matter again.

Curling up, he wrapped his arms around his knees and rested his chin on his hands, staring uncomprehendingly at the mirror as the tears rolled down, glistening like crystal.

In his distress, he could only think of one thing.

"What will happen to me now?"

A/N:Next chapter, we meet more people, including Sirius, Remus and...guess! Hopefully will be out soon! Please give feedback, if only to rant that I should not be so bad at updating!