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

A/N: Hey, miss me? Happy start of advent! Can't quite believe I got this out, but I guess the internet being down has it's uses eh? I just want to thank everyone for all their reviews and I hope you like this chapter. Btw, when typing the 'tea party', I know its not really that funny, but I just couldn't stop laughing. Dunno why...Guess i'm just a spaz :P

Warnings: Lots of blood play...you know you like it.

As sweet as red tea

Draco had mysteriously disappeared.

Again.

As soon as Draco had finished carrying him back to the house, to which Harry had made several strident protests but was promptly ignored, Draco had simply put him gently back on his feet and…faded away.

It was starting to become really annoying when the blonde did that, Harry decided.

He was currently slogging his way up the winding stairs back to his room in the tower, which he felt belonged to a lifetime ago.

In fact, it pretty much was, he thought wryly, musing on how his footsteps made not a sound s they hit upon the stone stairs.

When he finally reached the top and pushed open the door, Harry was feeling the strain of his long evening return to him with a vengeance. He truly wished for nothing more than to collapse on the bed, no matter how uncomfortable it may be, and fall asleep.

It was unfortunate that he would be unable to so.

With a groan of pure frustration, he slid his bag towards him where it had nestled under the rusting bed frame. He wrinkled his nose as he caught the smell of damp fabric, aggravated by the slight scent of mould.

He carefully unzipped it to inspect the contents. The glint of specialised equipment and the slight click of metal merely caused him to stare. He had completely forgotten the circumstances of why he had come to this town in Wiltshire in the first place.

Vague memories of a worried woman's face with bushy brown hair, and of an old man of indisputable insanity. They all seemed…fuzzy somehow, as if he were viewing them through a steamy window.

He tried to focus on them; to bring them into sharper clarity, yet found that he could not, no matter how hard he attempted to do so. Harry frowned, a little disturbed with the notion; was it possible that in time, he would forget all his friends from his previous life all together?

…

And when had he thought of them as previous?!

Harry closed his eyes in sheer exhaustion, his body suddenly feeling incredibly lethargic, and painfully achy. He rolled his shoulders back with a click and let himself fall backwards so that he was sprawled haphazardly over slightly moth eaten bed covers, his eyes sliding softly shut.

Several miles away, in a squashed parlour full of chipped chintz furniture and where it was quite impossible to distinguish the wallpaper from the overly flowery carpet, sat Neville Longbottom having early morning tea with Albus Dumbledore.

"Would you like a sherbet lemon?"

Suffice to say, Neville was feeling a little uncomfortable.

And it wasn't all to do with the company, amazingly enough.

"Now, now Neville, they're wonderfully good…"

Though it wasn't the far too small armchair he was fitted into either.

Neville let out a small strangled sound of apology and sipped his tea, not bothering to sweeten it with the rather suspect looking sugar cubes lying innocently on the coffee table. A coffee table, incidentally, so high it was practically digging into his kneecaps.

Dumbledore seemed to have lost himself for the moment, idly stirring his own teacup with one of his various ornamental silver spoons. He continued in this vain for several minutes, before lifting said cup just enough to allow him to peer over its brim to survey Neville in the proper manner.

The gardener squirmed behind his own teacup, fixing his gaze firmly to the sugar bowl.

"Well now Neville," he said, after finally completing his inspection, seemingly satisfied, "I'm sure you're wondering why you're here?"

The boy merely nodded, not trusting himself to open his mouth, considering he was wondering that same question himself, though perhaps not in the exact same way that Dumbledore did.

"Well, you checked in on dear Mr.Potter last week didn't you? Yes…I remember that."

Neville was again completely silent, though his flushed cheeks and tight jaw spoke volumes. Not that Dumbledore seemed to notice.

"It is quite extraordinary that he was alive wasn't it…?"

Neville made another strangled sound from somewhere in his throat and had to briefly close his eyes. Glancing at Dumbledore's wondering expression, he quickly busied himself with his tea once again.

"Yes, he seemed perfectly fine, sir," mumbled Neville eventually, when it became clear that the man would require prompting.

"Well, he is there on a very important mission Neville, very important indeed…unfortunately we have not heard from him in over a week now, and I'm afraid we may need to start worrying over the poor boy's fate…"

This time Neville truly did have to bite his tongue down forcefully. An important mission his hat! However, he couldn't but worry about Mr.Potter himself. No one had ever survived this long a time, and the young man's rather ominous silence was most likely a result of…well, best not to think about it.

"But, he may be perfectly fine," exclaimed Dumbledore suddenly, blue eyes twinkling, "so, I need you, Neville to go back and check on him for me once again!"

Neville groaned inwardly to himself.

There goes not thinking about it.

Harry awoke unpleasantly. He had opened his eyes to find streams of mid-morning sunshine glaring through the window, which had caused a searing pain to shoot through his eyes, to his brain and back again before settling menacingly in his forehead.

Letting out a harsh groan he had rolled himself out of his contorted position on the bed and half shuffled, half crawled out the door.

Harry didn't think he had ever been more grateful for the presence of a dark stone stairwell in his life.

Resting his head against the wall, Harry was made acutely aware of another pain, this one perhaps worse than that of his eyes.

His entire jaw ached painfully, like someone had hit it repeatedly with particularly large hammer. The ache extended to all of his teeth too, but was predominantly worse in his canines, which felt akin to plenty of tiny needles being lodged into his mouth.

Harry let out a restrained cry as he ran a tentative hand along his jaw line. He tried to grit his teeth against the sting, but only managed to make tears well in his eyes as the ache became even more unbearable.

"Ow…"whimpered Harry pitifully, staring morosely at the stone steps beneath him; it really, really hurt.

Deciding to try to find Draco, who could hopefully do something to relieve the pain, he pushed himself up and set about stumbling down the stairs to the rest of the house.

Leaves crunched loudly under his feet, worn boots slipping a little on the thawing frost as they slapped against the gravel path.

"Okay Neville, you can do this…there is absolutely nothing to be afraid of, you are not going in there to be eaten by flesh eating monsters, and you most certainly aren't going to find the lifeless corpse of Mr.Potter…"

Neville paused in his treck towards the front doors.

"Oh hell, what on earth am I doing?!"

With an internal wail of distress, Neville finally made it to the decrepit entranceway. With only a glance up to the portentous mansion, he slid through the doorway, fervently wishing to be anywhere but here.

Walking hesitantly through the muddy entrance hall, he couldn't help but start when a wood pigeon cooed from overhead, his eyes flashing wide as spun around.

He paused in his panic when he realised it was only a bird, and not anything worse.

Sighing with relief, he almost choked as he heard a voice call from behind him.

"Neville?"

Whipping around, ready to defend himself from all manner of vicious Neville-eating beasts, he blinked when he recognised it was only Harry.

"Mr.Potter," he said weakly, wheezing slightly, "you startled me…"

He trailed off as he took a closer look at the man. He was a little shocked to see how pale he had gotten; he looked more than a little ill. His eyes were darker as well, and his clothes ruffled and wrinkled all over. Neville briefly wondered where his glasses were.

"Are you…alright Mr.Potter sir? You don't look all that well…"

Harry was more than a little bemused, seeing Neville just standing there. He had been unsuccessfully trying to find Draco's study when the boy had just…appeared. That, or Harry just hadn't been paying too much attention to his surroundings, so he hadn't heard the boy come in.

Seeing Neville staring at him curiously, Harry dazedly answered, trying his best to ignore the pain in his mouth, which had just decided to throb away even more ferociously; he could practically feel the blood pulsing through his teeth.

"Oh, I'm-I'm just fine Neville, just a little tired is all…um, do you mind telling me,er, why you're here?" he asked confusedly, the ache in his canines was becoming particularly unpleasant at the moment, and was incredibly distracting.

"Oh!" Neville blustered, "Mr.Dumbledore sent me to check on you again, as well, no one had heard from you and we were beginning to think that maybe…"

Seeing the rather vacant stare from dark green eyes, Neville began to twitch uncomfortably. There was something very wrong with Mr.Potter, he hadn't blinked a single time, and there was…something in that gaze that was…oddly different.

Neville cleared his throat nervously, "I'll just, ah, go then, I mean, you're here, fine, alive, ah! I mean- well anyway, I'll, er, um, see you around Mr.Potter sir!"

And with that he rushed out of the house as fast as humanly possible, feeling distinctly unsettled.

It may be an awful thing to say but…just how was that man still alive?

The wind blew; ripping it's way through Neville's overcoat, and making him shiver. Frankly, it was just another thing that he had no desire to think about.

As soon as Neville had made his hasty exeunt, Harry gave in and grasped his head in his hands. It hurt…so much. He couldn't even bite his lip or anything, and it was only getting worse.

During his conversation with Neville he had almost thought that his teeth were going to fall out, they ached so badly.

He had to find Draco. Now.

Why the fuck did that vampire have to keep disappearing all of the time!

Harry only managed to stagger down a few more corridors, before another whimper of pain left him and he collapsed to the floor, head in hands and leaning heavily against the wall.

The tears he had been holding back finally fell, trailing down his face and running off his chin. Why wouldn't it stop? He just wanted it to stop…

He bit back a cry as the throb in his teeth and jaw intensified sharply, rocking his head back and forth in a futile attempt to relieve some of the pain.

It wasn't until the pressure started, however, that Harry truly screamed. Nails digging viciously into his skin, he sobbed as a large amount of pressure built up in the back of his mouth, causing the pain to increase even further.

He couldn't stand it, he just couldn't stand it, make it stop!

He hissed slightly as he felt another presence appear beside him. Draco hushed him gently as he wrapped his arms around him, unfazed when Harry tried to shrink away.

"Shhh… it'll be over soon, and then it will be all gone," he whispered softly, his breath ghosting lightly over his ear.

Harry couldn't help but be a little soothed by the vampire's ministrations, leaning into his touch, even as he felt something snap painfully in his jaw.

He felt wetness in his mouth and gave a sniffled whimper as blood dripped from his lips. He tensed and quivered as there was another breaking 'snap' among his teeth. He felt something hard upon his tongue, and promptly spat it out, along with a mouthful of his own blood.

As he stared at the objects, as they lay bloodied on the floor, he numbly recognised them as his own teeth; his upper canines.

Draco gently brushed some dark hair out of his eyes and pulled him back into an embrace against the wall, Harry being settled snugly in between his legs.

The pain had dulled to a merely an aching twinge in his jaw, so Harry let his head flop onto the chest behind him, exhaustion and Draco's fingers carding through his hair lulling him to sleep.

Draco released a sigh as he sensed his charmant fall asleep in his arms. Tightening his embrace slightly he pushed to stand with ease, Harry still nestled securely in his arms.

As he set off for his study, he mused on how this situation, him carrying his little minuo seemingly everywhere, appeared to happen quite often. The thought briefly amused him, but his thoughts flitted past it quickly.

He was rather regretful, possibly even a little guilty, that he had not been there for most of Harry's distress. Growing ones fangs was not exactly pleasant, and as his charmant's sire, regardless of their relationship, he should have been there anyway.

Not that his own sire had been there for him, but that wasn't exactly the point.

That thought passed rapidly as well though; he wouldn't have been able to do a thing about the process, or the pain, anyway.

He sighed again, this time with a bit more frustration, and surveyed Harry through his lashes.

Harry had drying blood trailing from his lips, and the pearly tips of fangs were distinctly visible, descending from his mouth.

Continuing his observation, Draco growled a little when he noticed how pallid Harry had gotten. It wasn't the usual healthy pale complexion of a vampire, but instead was nearly ashen, making him appear slightly sickly.

It was obvious that his little lovely would need to feed sooner than he had expected.

Opening the door to his destination, while still holding onto Harry with both hands, he didn't break stride until he reached the heavily cushioned sofa, gently placing Harry down and propping his head with a nearby pillow.

Draco tilted his head at the picture; Harry lying in a beautifully tragic pose, and appearing more alluring than Draco had ever thought imaginable.

The sight of blood trailing, as if he had just fed, and newly thickened eyelashes curling against pale cheeks.

Draco let his gaze fall hazy, the delicious mix of innocence and iniquity making heat coil deep within him.

With yet another sigh, this one sounding mostly of suffering, the vampire quickly lay down as well, curling around the sleeping man, wriggling slightly for the greatest comfort.

Happily burying his nose in his charmant's neck, he contentedly awaited for when Harry would wake.

Even though he was now awake, Harry kept his eyes shut, attempting to simply doze off again. He was so warm here, and comfortable; he was quite sure he never wanted to move ever again. It was…just…so…peaceful…

A rumbling laugh from his blanket, however, had him peering blearily awake, irritated with the disruption.

Not seeing anything unusual as he gazed at the ceiling, Harry slowly turned his head to the side, immediately meeting a pair of amused grey eyes.

Oh. Suddenly the weight of an arm around his waist made a lot more sense.

…

When had he simply come to accept Draco's molesting? He couldn't seem to quite remember.

Oh well, didn't matter really, as long as he got to go back to sleep again. Yes…sleep…

"Ah ah ah, Harry, no going back to sleep."

Fuck him.

Not at all fazed by the rather vicious glare that his darling charmant was giving him, Draco simply indulged in nuzzling Harry's neck once more.

"Listen, I know you're tired from before," he paused as Harry winced slightly in remembrance, "but the real reason you want to sleep so much is because you're going to start needing to feed."

It took a few moments for that to trickle through Harry's drowsy mind. When it did, he paled even more.

"What-…what happened to me?" he asked softly.

Draco sighed; he really hoped Harry wouldn't get all delicate over this.

"You're fangs finally grew through, replacing your, rather defunct if I may say so, old ones. It's the sign that you have to start feeding on blood. You're still not completely Turned though; you only require a small amount at the moment, and other more…subtle abilities have still yet to appear."

"Oh…" Harry whispered, keeping his eyes fixed on one of the more decorative cushions lodged behind Draco's shoulder.

"You can't survive without blood, lovely, which is why you feel even more lethargic than you really should."

Harry nodded slightly, his mind in a mess. It wasn't the blood that made him hesitant, strangely enough. Surely as a vampire, it would taste nicer than it normally did…but he wasn't sure how he felt about having to kill for it either, it seemed sort of drastic truthfully.

Harry licked his lips, "It has to be human blood?"

Draco blinked lazily before replying, "Yes, animal blood is more of an… acquired taste, and is impossible to properly survive on."

"Oh…"

Draco let himself smile softly as he heard that quiet little word again.

"But," Draco continued, "for now my own blood will do for you, not as…nutritious perhaps, but perfectly fit for your consumption."

He was smirking by the end, and Harry was annoyed to feel a blush rise onto his cheeks.

Feeding from Draco, that wasn't so bad, right? Wouldn't be hurting anyone, and he was well aware of how…pleasurable it could be.

Which, actually, just left him feeling really awkward.

He squirmed a little, trying to get more comfortable in his precarious position on the sofa and resolutely refused to meet the Draco's eyes. It was obvious that the vampire expected him to feed now, but…but what the fuck was he meant to do?!

Draco couldn't help but laugh faintly as he saw how wonderfully shy his little charmant was being. He gently cupped Harry's chin with slender fingers, lifting his head so their eyes could meet. The blush dusted across his minuo's face was really quite endearing.

"Now, now Harry, don't get all nervous on me. Just go with what is comfortable," he purred.

Harry was not entirely reassured by the vampire's low, sultry tone, but had the creeping feeling that the man was merely attempting to agitate him. Harry would feel a lot more satisfied about this discovery, if only it wasn't flustering him quiteso well.

With a slight huff, Harry determinedly ignored the heat on his face and tilted himself a bit further round so he was snuggled right into Draco's chest, his head resting on the man's collarbone.

Breathing in deeply, Harry couldn't help but notice that Draco smelled really, really good. As he moved to nuzzle his neck, the brunette could sense the lazy pulse of blood just under the surface of pale, smooth skin. He gave a breathy sigh; it was intoxicating.

Suddenly feeling rather heady, Harry let his tongue slip from parted lips of it's own accord, licking up all the way to the blonde's ear. Draco tasted really fine as well…

The vampire himself was failing to keep composure, and when he felt that pink little tongue make its way up his neck, he couldn't help groaning from the sensation.

Fucking hell, he wished Harry would just sink his fangs into him already!

Fortunately, Harry did just that. Feeling an odd sensation flow through his jaw and dart down his fangs, he was consumed with the irresistible urge to bite down on the soft flesh below him.

With a moan of satisfaction, he felt his extended canines pierce Draco's skin and something pleasantly warm and wet flood his mouth.

When the first proper taste of blood hit his tongue, he couldn't help but whimper. It was thick, rich, still held that slight metallic taste and had the same effect as strong alcohol.

It seemed to taunt every single taste bud with its diversity, and he knew that he would never survive again without it. There was also, on top of everything else, something that Harry could clearly recognise; it was the bittersweet tang that made it taste of sex, which he also knew instinctively would only taste so sweet when from his sire.

He let his tongue massage the skin in his mouth lightly; drawing the blood out leisurely, and performing little convulse swallows. He felt a slim hand curl up through his hair, making him mewl slightly as he was gently pushed closer to Draco's neck.

"There's a good boy…" purred Draco silkily, eyes smoky with pleasure as his charmant continued to suckle on his neck.

It was only a few minutes until Harry softly pulled back, the blood losing a little of it's addictive flavour as his thirst was assuaged. He licked a little at the wound on Draco's alabaster skin, coming to his senses and blushing heavily, slightly amazed with what he had just done.

"There we go," said Draco as he rolled his head, giving a contented groan as he felt it click, "feeling better now?"

The self-satisfied smirk was back. Again.

Harry merely curled up and buried his head in the nearest plush cushion in response.

A/N: Feed back welcome, read and review! Next chapter will contain...stuff, I guess.