Disclaimer: I do not in any way own Harry Potter.
AHH, SORRY FOR THE REPOST, BUT IT HAD SOME ERRORS ON IT, THAT I JUST HAD TO FIX, SORRY!!!
A/N: Woah, this one just kept going! Well, thank you all for your lovely reviews, I enjoy them ever so much, I think some people are starting to see why this is rated M :) It isn't my intetion to weird anyone out, I just want stuff to feel real, is all.
Anyway, BIG IMPORTANT QUESTION! ffdotnet can be a bit odd when it comes to 'inappropriate content', ehm, and I really don't wanna be taken off. Now, Harry and Draco WILL be having sex at some point (...so...hot...nugh...), but I'm just not sure how much my lovely readers are gonna see of it. :( dilemna! So, I've decided to let YOU decide, and then put a warning in the chapter and hope noone complains, you no like, you no read! and all that. So yes, please inform me how steamy you want me to go...hehehe...:P
Warnings: A bit...gore-y, I seriously don't know why I keep doing this, it'll stop, really it will, to be replaced by hot boyxboy action, I proomisssseee!!!
Silver Bullets
The middle of the night usually lent itself to shadows, and that particular evening was no different. The hallways were as silent as they had ever been, with the only illumination coming from the occasional candle or from the moonlight streaming through the intermittent windows.
Draco's footfalls made not a single sound as he stalked swiftly through the corridors, the low light moulding around his features as he walked.
As he turned a final corner, he came into sight of his destination.
The library? How interesting.
His hunt came to a close as he slid without a sound through the slightly ajar doorway, and saw his minuo seated at one of the smaller tables, a book in hand, hunched over his chair.
Unable to resist temptation, Draco silently came up behind him, resting his chin on crossed hands and peering over the other man's shoulder.
Realising that Harry had still not realised his presence, he leaned a little further forward, glancing at Harry through the corners of his eyes.
"Are you avoiding me, Harry?"
Harry jerked forward in surprise, spluttering slightly as the book he had been holding toppled down onto the tabletop haphazardly.
Feeling a blush spread over his cheeks, again, Harry twisted around, still shocked at the vampire's abrupt appearance.
"Draco! When the fuck did you get there?!" he demanded.
"Oh, me? I've been reading over your shoulder for about five minutes now, I'm surprised you didn't notice," said Draco dispassionately.
After blinking a few times, Harry simply reached for his book again in response, using it as a distraction from his small, choked noise of surprise. There was no way Draco could have been there for that long…
Seeing Harry steadfastly return to his reading, Draco raised an eyebrow in question, wondering what could be ever so interesting.
Walking smoothly round the table, Draco leaned over and pushed down the book that was covering Harry's face gently, but firmly, with two slender fingers.
Realising his reading material was disappearing from his line of sight; Harry finally gave up on ignoring the blonde and just let it clatter back to the table, sitting back in his seat with a sigh.
"Ah, so you were avoiding me then?"
Harry didn't reply, he merely bit his lip and glanced away to one of the various towering bookcases. It really was an enormous library.
He had found it while he had been aimlessly wandering the corridors, after he had slipped out of Draco's study a just few hours before. His face had completely refused to cool down, despite being hidden behind a pillow, and he had promptly tried to escape as soon as possible. He had eventually stumbled across yet another pair of irresistibly curios double doors, and had been surprised to find one of the largest collections of books he had ever seen.
His first thought of, 'that's a lot of books', had quickly given way to an odd sort of excitement. He had skimmed past the various bookshelves, a little disappointed to find nothing of any real interest, until his gaze had landed on titles that seemed a bit more…unnatural.
Few of the books themselves had any title, but whoever had organised them had done so with a great amount of care, labelling sections in thin, slanted handwriting, within categories such as, potions, werewolves or the mysteriously named silver.
Letting his fingers trail along the spines, he had randomly pulled a book from the shelf and sat down to read. What had started as something to distract himself from thinking had quickly turned into something really very interesting.
He had almost completely forgotten about Draco.
Almost.
He was jolted from his thoughts as he felt a tinkling breath ghost over his ear.
"Now, now darling, no need to look so morose, I'm not such bad company, am I?"
Harry couldn't help but shiver as Draco's low, silky voice brushed against his skin. Why was Draco always so…distracting?
Smirking at his charmant's reaction, Draco let his arms gently fall around Harry's waist, leaning in gracefully to place a kiss on the juncture between jaw and neck, nibbling a little on the ear, before slowly pulling away again.
Harry couldn't prevent the shiver than ran through his frame as Draco moved away, just brushing against the material of his shirt.
"Now then," inquired Draco softly, "what was it that you found so enthralling, hmm?"
Harry jerked back to reality as he saw Draco spin the book cover about, as to see properly the title.
The vampire merely stared at it intently for a moment, before glancing back to Harry, a gentle smirk lilting his features.
"Ah, I see," he said lowly, his silver hair shadowing his face.
Harry blushed, angry and strangely embarrassed at the same time. Why the hell did Draco have to put it like that?
"Stop making it like I've been doing something incongruously dirty, you stupid vampire!" he demanded, standing from his chair and leaning over the table.
Draco merely chuckled in the back of his throat, before stepping back and allowing the light to bathe his features once again. His grey eyes were glinting with malicious amusement at the red that was dusting his minuo's cheeks, ever so prettily.
"You are far too fun to play with darling, you have the most amusing reaction's to things." He levelled Harry with an unreadable glance, "You also seem to have quite the imagination as well…"
Harry glared in reply, and let himself slowly fall back into his seat, determined not to let the blondes odd ways irritate him any further.
He felt all his ire melt away as his gaze fell to the book laying innocuously on the table. He reached out with his fingers and let them delicately glide over the leather cover.
He suddenly realised how pale his skin was, in contrast to the dark swathe. He let his hand fall limply back to his side.
Draco observed with hooded eyes, having moved to haunt the sill of the nearby window; it was small and rectangular, with small diamond panes and the wood a deep burgundy.
Glancing outside he saw that it was a clear night, but the wind had stirred to nearly a gale, whistling through any cracks or broken windows and causing the candles to sputter.
Harry stared at his pale hands that were lying in his lap, leaning back fully in his chair, his dark green eyes glazed over in thought.
It took him a few moments to realise, once again, that he wasn't breathing, and that there was not a single movement from his chest. He frowned slightly, still gazing fixedly at his twisting fingers.
Silky black locks of hair fell forward, framing his face and caressing his skin gently. He wet his lips with his tongue, suddenly feeling them to be very dry, as his entire frame tensed.
"Draco…"he whispered timidly, "what is going to happen to me… What is it that I shall become?"
Though soft, the question cut through the silence flawlessly, even above the slight rattle of the glass as the wind twisted past the walls once more.
Draco surveyed Harry with dark eyes, his face impassive.
"You shall stay with me," he said seriously, "and that is that."
Strangely enough, the ambiguous answer didn't trouble him.
"Right…" Harry spoke softly to himself, feeling inexplicably lighter for reasons he couldn't quite fathom.
"Right…" he repeated once more just as gently.
"You really shouldn't think about those sort of things though," said Draco casually, as he started to saunter from his perch on the windowsill, "you'll just end up hurting yourself."
And with that, the vampire pushed Harry's head with two slender fingers as he walked right past and out the door, leaving Harry to rub absently at his forehead while groping for his dropped book with the other.
Harry was beginning to get the suspicion that Draco just might be bi-polar.
It would certainly explain a lot of things.
He fingered the spine of his book, briefly contemplating whether or not to continue reading. He bit his lip in indecision and let out a hiss of pain. He drew up a palm to his lip and was taken aback to find blood sliding down his fingers.
He ran his tongue absently over his teeth, and was rewarded with the taste of his own blood from one of his fangs.
Oh.
He looked to the small paned window, it reflected the room from the candlelight; he could distinguish the bookcases, the table, the chair and… an indistinct blur where he should have been.
He glanced back to his bloody fingers; it was enthralling to watch the thick liquid slowly roll down over his skin, he found that he couldn't look away.
Before he was even aware of what he was doing he had leant forward and was running his tongue along them, licking the blood from his fingers with a sort perverse focus.
Once he had finished, his eyes went wide as he suddenly realised just what he had done.
Fuck.
He slumped into the back of his chair, and put a slightly trembling hand to his face and then ran it through his hair. He carelessly noticed that the tresses fell gracefully back into place.
There was nothing…wrong with what he had just done, but…Shit, he hadn't even noticed what the fuck he had been doing! He'd had no control at all!
With an aggravated growl, he roughly pushed himself from his chair and swiftly made his way over to the cases, skimming over entire shelves until he reached a group of books neatly labelled in that peculiar slanted handwriting, vampires.
He cautiously reached out, fighting an inexplicable urge that he was doing something dreadfully erroneous.
He pushed such irrational thoughts away, but only pulled one down nonetheless; he couldn't keep relying on Draco's sporadic little pieces of information. It would have been nice, for example, if the bastard of a vampire had at least warned him about the whole growing his own fangs thing.
He sighed, while vaguely wondering just what Draco could actually do. What he essentially could do.
He frowned as what felt like a million questions that he had stored away for the past couple of days screamed to the forefront. He frowned slightly; it wouldn't do to be completely unprepared for what was happening to him, now would it?
With that thought in mind, but still feeling irrationally surreptitious, he settled himself down on a couch, below one of the larger windows, curling up to the end.
He had reading to do.
Meanwhile, Draco had his own business to attend to. He silently slid through the shadows to his study, the unease he had pushed away earlier returning.
He steeped out from a corner and as he strode past his desk, allowed himself a slight glance to the thin silver sword that was lying on the leather.
He sighed and looked away; why did everything have to be so complicated?
The sword wasn't the only object that was giving him cause for thought; the white, cracked mask lay not too far away either.
Draco went to one of the glass-door cabinets, removing a rather thick tome with care. He placed it on his desk and wasted no time flicking through the pages, lithe fingers tracing faded words.
He finally stopped about halfway through, the book itself seemed to be a set text, but the previous owner had scribbled various comments in the margins, and had even written an entire paragraph at the bottom in miniscule characters.
Grey eyes skimmed over the transcript, growing to a dark silver by the end of the passage.
Draco slammed the ancient book closed with a snarl. He pushed it away from him and let himself fall back into his armchair, resting his head on a clenched fist, his fangs piercing his lower lip.
He couldn't completely contain the hissing growl that issued from between his teeth.
He had hoped that perhaps…ka, it didn't matter anymore. The blonde closed his eyes and sighed deeply, distantly aware of his bleeding lip. He rose, and quickly slid through the shadows again.
He had people to see.
Harry huffed and continued to stare forlornly out the window. He had finished reading, well, he finished reading as much as he really wanted to at the moment, and he was growing distinctly, well, bored.
It was an odd sensation, considering he hadn't experienced it in quite a while, and he was therefore at a bit at a loss with what to do with himself.
He had read as far as what the book had detailed on Turning (which was minimal) and he just couldn't bring himself to continue to read on any further.
He was feeling…restless, and it was becoming a pain attempting to keep still. He felt as if he had far too much energy, and it was just itching to have a release.
Thus leading to the staring out the window with the despondent expression.
Harry sighed to himself.
The last time he had been outside by himself at night, some sort of possessed spirit-mask had attacked him and he had managed to kill himself by rusty impalement.
No wonder he was just a tad nervous about journeying outside without Draco by his side. And Draco wasn't here.
But…
At the same time, he really, really, wanted to go outside.
Harry groaned and let his head fall against the glass with a satisfying thud. Great, now he sounded like a whining child from the age of five.
Despite that though, he truly did feel as if he was going to go insane with just standing there; he needed to do something!
Where the fuck had Draco disappeared off to anyway? It really was getting incredibly frustrating.
Harry suddenly had the oddest feeling; as if a stray thought was ghosting through his mind, just touching his awareness, leaving the overwhelming thought that, Draco isn't here. He didn't know where it had come from, but he was sure that it was undeniably true, like an instinct.
Harry huddled his arms about himself as the wind blew through the halls once again, sending the candles guttering out.
It was a strange sensation, Harry decided, being able to see in perfect clarity when he knew there was no light source to see by.
Feeling oddly vulnerable staying inside the house, he strode purposefully through the dim corridors down to the entrance hall, and then, with only a slight pause of hesitance, right out the front door and beyond.
The night sky was like velvet, and the world was cast in a slight purple hue, with only the wind rustling gently along the ground.
Harry scowled at his own cowardice. He was getting all agitated about practically nothing.
He briefly wondered, as he made his way off the grounds and onto the paved road, if Draco would be angry with him for leaving without informing him, but just as quickly pushed it aside.
No matter what happened to him, he was still his own person, and he still had the same freedoms as he had merely days before, when he and come and gone, completely by his own compulsion.
He continued to walk silently down the lane, the boughs of trees hanging vigilantly above him.
The wind danced across his face, mussing his hair and sending a tingle through the scar on his forehead.
Harry absently wondered where he was going, into town obviously, but was there any real reason to do so?
He sighed, and decided that at the moment that he just didn't care.
Just walk and think.
It was 3 o'clock in the morning when the bar door opened and closed for the last time that night, or rather, morning.
A woman dressed in far too high stilettos and swathed in a large grey overcoat stumbled out, her hells catching slightly on the latch and causing her to skid down onto the pavement.
Sighing with exasperation, she straightened up and turned back to bolt the door, making sure to secure the catch.
Once satisfied that she was all locked up for the night, Miss Tracey Davis huddled further into her coat and set off down the street, head bowed low as she made her way home.
Working behind a bar hadn't exactly been her first choice in the job market, with little pay and having to deal with ever more sleazy patrons. But, it served her purpose; funding her future exploits.
She huffed to herself as her shoes clicked rhythmically against the pavement, thinking longingly for the bed and the accompanying sleep that awaited her once she got back to her flat.
Little did Miss Tracey Davis know, that she would never reach her front door.
She suddenly broke stride, coming to a halt as she felt eyes watching her.
Feeling an inexplicable fear race up her spine, she slowly turned her head, just a little to the left.
The alleyway was dark; the streetlamps above her head not reaching the dim passageway and leaving it full of shadows.
Her breath blew out in a billowing cloud of white in front of her face, when had it got so cold? And as she heard something shift in the darkness, she managed to move a step back, stilettos clacking slightly.
At the same time, the streetlamp above her head buzzed a little as it started to flicker.
Her pulse started to quicken as she began to panic, she just had to move, run around the corner, just another couple of roads, then straight down Blackwaters street, round another corner and she'd be home.
Not that far.
Not that far at all.
The streetlight flashed and then went out.
"AHH-!"
Harry's head lifted as he heard the cut off cry. It sounded like a woman and, judging from the slight ringing in his ears, it was from close by as well.
He hesitated for a moment, rocking back on the balls of his feet only fleetingly, before walking, and then jogging in the direction from where he had heard the woman's cry.
He wasn't sure whether it was from a desire to help, or from a fresh sort of gruesome curiosity, but he was going regardless.
As Harry came across the scene, he fervently wished that he hadn't.
He had ended up skidding to a halt outside an alleyway, his sensitive hearing making it effortless to locate the source.
It wasn't until he paused that he had smelt the blood. Harry vaguely wondered how he could have possibly missed it; the fragrance practically perfumed the air with fruity wine and sharp aftertaste.
He briefly felt his jaw ache. He paid it no heed, however, too transfixed with the sight before him; it was far more abhorrent than a vampire.
A woman was lying limply in the clutches of what appeared to be pure shadow, absorbing the light around it to make a dark vacuum, devoid of any light at all.
It was the mask though, that drew Harry's attention; it was the same as the one that had hunted him only a few nights before, a red glow, glinting where eyes should have been.
The disgust came from the state of the woman, it appeared as if something had literally tore into her flesh by shear force alone, the shadow surrounding her seeming to draw in through the wound on her side, crimson seeping heavily through her grey overcoat.
Harry could tell she was still alive, though not for that much longer; he could hear her frenzied heartbeats begin to dwindle and fade.
Staring, he saw her eyes go glassy, and her life was snuffed out.
He continued to watch, unable to tear his gaze away, as the creature dropped her to the ground, like a slab of meat, her glazed eyes staring wide at the sky.
Harry's stomach roiled in revulsion, but he was unable to become properly nauseas. He wished he could; he was sure he would feel better if he would just throw up.
He was jerked from his shock, however, when he saw the shadow move from his peripheral vision. It seemed that Harry had taken the position of next victim.
Fuck.
Wasn't once enough!?
Faster than a human could ever hope to follow, the wraith lunged forward, intent on capturing it's prey.
With an unnatural speed, Harry managed to spin away, though caught off balance by the sudden movement, sending him stumbling back.
Fortunately, the creature seemed to have entangled itself on the lamppost behind him, leaving him a second or two to flee.
Harry wasted no time; he spun around, awkwardly faltering slightly on the pavement, and sprinted as fast as possible round the corner.
Fuck.
He couldn't believe that this was happening, again! And this time, Draco was most definitely nowhere to be seen, and he had absolutely no idea what the fuck to do, or where the hell to go.
Shit.
As Harry's feet pounded hard against the pavement, he made not a single sound; it did not aid him though, as he knew the spirit was merely inches behind him; the creeping chill was evidence enough for that.
Shit, why was that thing chasing him to begin with, he wasn't alive anymore! He didn't have anything left to give!
He stumbled as he felt something reach out with leaching fingers, trying to tear into the prone form of his back.
He fell, and rolled to the side, the uneven surface of the ground below him leaving deep gouaches in his hands, and then slammed harshly up against a brick wall, sending pain shooting through his ribs; he distantly thought he heard something crack.
He ignored it best he could, only then belatedly realising that he had been caught in a dead end. Cursing his luck to hell and back, he attempting to crawl backwards, but was halted as the crushing pain flared in his chest, disrupting any further movement.
He looked up, frantically searching for his hunter, but saw nothing.
He felt a chill creep up his spine as the nearby streetlamp sputtered unsteadily, before dying completely.
"Hu-Ah-!"
Harry couldn't prevent the cry as a masked white face with slanted features appeared not two feet away from him.
He tried vainly to scramble back, but the spirit was fast and descended upon him swiftly. He felt his skin grow cold in a way that was strangely reminiscent; the dark shadows that made the creature's body began to smother over him, slicing through his flesh and causing thick, dark red blood to well up and flow over his skin.
As the wraith fully began to enwrap around him, Harry closed his eyes, breathing shallowly out of reflex… he was really going to die this time.
Bang-click!
Harry's eyes snapped open as he heard something sounding very akin to a gun go off.
Bang-click!
This time, he could feel something embed itself in the shadow above him; feel the shockwave tremor through his own frame.
Bang-click, Bang-click, Bang-click-
Harry felt the creature's hold begin to loosen, and quickly took the opportunity to push it entirely off of him.
Slumping with relief when he saw that it had stopped moving, Harry lay back on his hands, blood trailing down his skin and down onto the dirt from various slashes, which, fortunately were not too deep.
Glancing up towards his saviour, he was startled to recognise him.
"Severus?" he asked, only slightly incredulous.
And indeed, it was he, sour demeanour and all. He seemed to completely ignore Harry, simply striding past him to stand before the masked shadow lying pathetically on the ground.
Harry was alarmed to notice that it was still writhing, though obviously weakened, pinned to the floor as it was. Severus merely sneered, the snarl twisting his features to appear particularly menacing.
With complete disdain, the older vampire cocked the gun a final time and shot the thing straight through the mask, the white porcelain shattering and falling in pieces, softly clattering to the ground.
Harry watched, enthralled, as the shadows seemed to shrivel, leaving only an innocuous black cloak behind. He could now see the bullets that had pinned it, sticking through the material, they gleamed silver through the night.
Harry snapped back to attention as Severus turned to face him. His dark eyes were virtually spitting with venom.
"Take that," he spat disgustedly, throwing Harry the firearm that had been in his hand, letting it spin across the floor, "and hurry back to your sire. Inform him that we shall meet tomorrow night, and that I shall tell him all that he wishes to know."
Harry nodded dazedly, feeling a blush rise as sudden embarrassment hit him hard.
He had needing saving, again.
He slowly dragged himself up, the pain from his ribs already greatly diminished. He diffidently fingered the cool silvery metal of the weapon laying on the ground, uncertain whether to actually pick it up or just leave it where it was.
"Well? What are you waiting for? Get going!" snarled Severus, impatient for Draco's little Fledgling to be gone. Draco was going to be…extremely displeased about these turns of events.
And that did not bode well for anyone.
Harry flushed a couple of shades darker, and hastily swept the weapon into his hand and half-stumbled, half-jogged out of the alley, intent only on finding his way back to the house as soon as possible.
He was never going out without Draco again.
A/N: I hope people didn't get too grossed out. Next chapter will be fun, chats with Sevvy, Draco going all twitchy about Harry's little 'adventure', is all good. And finally some more (hopefully non-blood related) HarryxDraco action! Oh, and feel free to PM me for any questions (you know who you are :).