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

A/N:Uhm...hi? Hehe, no one's gonna try and kill me for how long this chapter took are they? Especially when it ain't that great a chapter..hehe,heeeee. YOU KNOW YOU LOVE ME REALLY!!! Right, moving on, this chapter annoyed me, but that's my opinion only, Draco turned out much angrieri than i thoguht he would and I've added some er, 'Ginny' at the end, which when I reread this morning sounded even more funny than when i wrote it last night, lol. Anyway, please read and review!

Oh, and MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

Warnings: Ginny in a state of consatnt denial. Seriously.

A much anticipated night

The first thing that Harry saw as he stumbled through the double doors, bashing his cracked ribs on the heavy wood as he clumsily made his way through the doorway, was not exactly quite what he would term as comforting.

It was Draco; nice of him to show up.

But…

He did not look happy. At all. In fact, his narrowed stormy grey gaze was more than a little frightening, and the taught line of muscles that were shown by his clenched jaw wasn't particularly reassuring either.

Uncertain with how exactly to proceed with this unexpected situation, Harry could do nothing more than stand there numbly, leaning his back against the door, fighting against a sudden wave of dizziness.

In fact, now that he thought about it, he was also shaking slightly, and was experiencing a sudden bought of lethargy, along with feeling as if he had had a bottle smashed over his head; a headache had appeared with a vicious intensity.

Draco had been most displeased to find that when he had returned, that Harry had not been present anywhere in the house. He had been equally malcontent when he had heard of an odd shuffling from the entrance hall, and, having come to investigate, found his minuo dragging himself inside, trailing small droplets of blood onto the dirtied marble floor as he went.

Watching the man lean back onto the doors behind, Draco swiftly approached, eyes intent on the deep lashes on his charmant's arms.

If Harry had completed his Turning, then the wounds have already healed over by know, as it was, they had barely started to close, and were still leaking deep crimson liquid.

Reaching out with a pale hand, Draco gently let his fingers trail over the nearest cut, pulling away once some red had smeared itself over his skin.

Raising the blood stained fingers to his mouth, Draco delicately licked at them with his tongue, easily identifying the decaying taste of flesh produced by a certain creature he was far too well acquainted with.

Hissing in absolute fury, Draco, eyes flashing a dangerous silver, fixed his glare on Harry's pale face, before running his gaze up and down, observing all the injuries that he had received.

With another guttural hiss, Draco reached out once more and promptly jerked Harry from the wall by his upper arm, before stalking down the corridors at a brisk pace.

Harry just followed meekly, able to sense with ease his sire's festering rage. He could only hope that it was directed at the Death eaters and not him.

…

He could hope, couldn't he? No need to point how stupid he had been to go out by himself in the first place.

Draco pulled him to his study, through the door and flung him onto the couch, before storming round to a cabinet in the corner.

Harry winced as he heard it slam open.

Oh yes, Draco was mad.

Within seconds, the fuming blonde was back in front of him, this time accompanied by a bottle of alcohol and cloth, which he promptly began to dab along his wounds.

Harry was rather alarmed to see his skin hiss at the edges wherever it came into contact with the alcohol-soaked fabric.

"Um…Draco?" he asked in a small voice.

Draco, however, ignored him, merely continuing diligently with his work. Once done, he seemingly snapped some bandages from thin air and sharply tied the white fabric around Harry's forearms, where the gashes were deepest.

"I can't do anything to set your ribs, but they should already be healing anyway," said Draco curtly.

The vampire then threw himself in the chair behind his desk and grabbed the bottle from the table and gave it a quick swig, observing Harry intently over the rim.

Harry himself thought that if he was any tenser, he would fall off the couch. As it was he was already sitting straight upright and so stiff that he felt a lot like a statue.

He waited in uneasy silence for Draco to say something. Anything. He didn't like this uncomfortable quiet; it was driving him insane with expectation.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Harry managed to summon the courage to pass on Severus's message in lieu of having anything better to say.

"Severus-…"Harry bit his lip in anxiety, "Severus said that he would meet with you tomorrow night and that-…that he shall tell you all you wish to know."

Harry had diverted his gaze to the floor hastily when he had begun speaking, but now, upon hearing nothing but silence from the vampire opposite, he lifted his head to chance a quick peek at the blonde's expression.

It was completely unreadable, and with dark grey eyes hooded, Harry couldn't even determine whether the man was still angry or not. Damn.

Shifting slightly in his seat, and still feeling inordinately uncomfortable, Harry suddenly wished that he could be anywhere else but here. How the hell could Draco be so bloody intimidating when all he was doing was staring at him?

At any rate, Harry was beginning to feel very disturbed, and it wasn't the sort of distress he had felt from the vampire's previous lusty gazes either. No, this was far different.

Just when Harry was beginning to contemplate the pros and cons of how to commit suicide using only his own tongue, Draco finally deigned to speak.

"Good, " he said lightly, "I'm sure that Severus will be most informative."

His piercing stare did not waver.

"Now, is there some…circumstances, that you would like to inform me about Harry darling?"

Draco's voice was low and the malicious purr was not at all lost on Harry. He swallowed nervously and licked his dry lips convulsively.

Shit, so not good.

"Well, I-…I, um, well, may have gone into town and, um, may of…met…a Death Eater. Maybe." He said haltingly, so softly he was surprised that Draco would be able to hear it at all. As he spoke, it suddenly dawned on Harry how absolutely idiotic it all sounded, and found himself blushing profusely, this time, he thought wryly, with an actual reason.

Surveying Harry critically from over his bottle of 1879 Merlot, Draco mulled over his options, his initial rush of anger having quelled itself, for the time being at least.

Meditatively sipping his on his wine bottle, Draco leaned back further into his desk chair.

"You are not to leave the house unaccompanied again, it is obvious that what happened on Friday evening was not an isolated incident."

Harry winced slightly at the reference to his…death. It still sounded rather bizarre to him.

Meanwhile Draco continued, "And so, until you can defend yourself properly, it is far too dangerous for you to venture out by yourself, which I am sure you can …appreciate, hmm?"

Draco tilted back the bottle completely this time, having placed his feet up on his desk. He appeared completely at ease, yet Harry knew better; he could see the tense form of his shoulders and the tightness around his jaw, signalling that he was restraining his fangs from descending with difficulty.

Well, Harry thought with some relief, it seemed Draco wasn't truly mad at him after all. Still, Draco most certainly did not look relaxed about the situation.

Feeling inexplicably bothered about this fact, Harry was only aware that he had moved at all when he was directly in front of the blonde vampire, and was gently removing the bottle from his grasp.

Still unsure of what the hell he was doing, Harry let himself straddle Draco's lap, resting himself gently against the other's chest, and nuzzling the other's neck a little before just laying there contentedly.

Though Harry may have been unsure of exactly why he was doing this, Draco seemed unsurprised and merely closed his eyes; letting his hand gently pet it's way through his charmant's silky dark hair.

In his opinion, tomorrow night couldn't come fast enough.

The sun was only beginning to dip under the horizon, shedding an orange light and casting the sky above it pink, but, in Draco's opinion, it was considered late enough to be called evening.

Patience, Harry decided, was another thing that bended its will to Draco when needs suited him.

Harry was slightly sceptical of the vampire's impatience, but he could clearly see that Draco very much wanted to talk with Severus as soon as possible, and really, who was he to question him, when he wanted answers just as much?

Also, Harry wanted to know why Severus, of all people, knew apparently more about the situation than Draco did.

They had wiled away the morning by sleeping, on the surprisingly comfortable armchair in Draco's study. It had been slightly disorientating for Harry however, to find that upon waking that he still had his nose, and by default his mouth, suspiciously close to Draco's neck.

The afternoon had passed with Harry secluding himself off in the library once again, to ponder over the books under the labels in the slanted handwriting and doing his best to ignore the slight ache that had inconveniently lodged itself in his canines.

Draco, meanwhile, had disappeared off again too, and when questioned, had airily mentioned something about 'feeding', which had caused Harry to blush (for reasons that Harry wasn't entirely sure of) and Draco to regain the smirk that had been somewhat lacking from the night before.

Harry was aware that he must have made the absolutely charming trip into insanity when he found that he had subconsciously missed it.

And as soon as afternoon could be at its earliest classified as 'evening', Draco had miraculously reappeared, taken him by the arm and here they were, walking through town at only about 6 o'clock (it was, after all, October).

Draco rapped his knuckles across the wood that constituted Severus's front door, and waited seemingly patiently. In fact, now that Harry looked, Draco appeared perfectly calm and composed.

Damn.

How did the blonde do that?

The door creaked open a fractional amount and they were ushered in, much the same way they had been before, only two nights ago.

Clutching his arms about himself, feeling oddly vulnerable under Severus's stare, Harry swiftly followed Draco, resisting the childish urge to hide behind the other man; Snape unnerved him in a way that he really didn't like. At all.

Leaning against a mahogany table, Draco merely observed Severus as he dug around in a cabinet, before disappearing through a door for several moments.

Harry perched on the end of a black sofa next to him, so tense that his back was completely straight, posture rigid.

Severus came bustling back through the doorway, some mysterious items in hand. He moved swiftly, seeming to swoop into the room, rather than walk. He settled himself at a seat in front of a low coffee table.

Harry was startled when he recognised what Severus had placed down; blood bags, complete with hospital labelling, information and all. He was even more startled when one nearly hit him in the face.

Deftly catching it before impact, Harry brought it down to his lap, staring at it for a moment or so before blinking uncomprehendingly. He glanced back up at Severus, the question on the tip of his tongue.

"You lost a lot of blood yesterday, "said Severus curtly, " and as such you will require feeding. It is high time you started drinking properly anyway- and little nibbles off of Draco do not count." He added, when he saw that Harry was going to interrupt.

Harry bit his lip in reply and peered down at the blood bag in hand once again, feeling distinctly uncertain.

Severus, however, took no notice, and breezed on regardless.

"Now you just sit there and drink that while your sire and I discuss far more important matters."

Feeling his distaste for Severus rise, Harry had to forcibly remind himself who it was that had saved him only the night before. It was obvious the older vampire had only done the act due to his…whatever it was with Draco, but all the same, the man had done it.

So, instead of an angry retort, Harry bit his tongue and only meekly nodded, fiddling a little with the plastic trim of the bag in his lap.

Severus turned to Draco.

"I presume you heard all about the little incident yesterday?" he asked curtly.

Draco nodded in response, his agitation about said incident only showing by the slight tense of his jaw.

Severus sighed and leaned back into his chair, looking oddly weary.

"It appears that the Death Eaters are indeed active once more, what with two popping up within only the span of a mere few days. I had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that it was an isolated occurrence, but a certain…correspondence shall we say, has made that possibility impossible."

Draco remained impassive, though when he spoke his voice was tinged with a similar weary tone as Severus's, much like he had accepted the inevitable.

"Yes, I had expected as much, no matter how inconvenient it may be."

There was silence for a while, as if both men seemed reluctant to continue the conversation, though both knowing at the same time, that it must.

"The Death Eaters were never exactly organised, more alike to creatures to be set loose," said Draco finally, " so it would stand to reason that they are still being controlled."

Severus nodded slightly, dark eyes half lidded in thought, "It most definitely seems that way."

Draco observed the form of the man before him with keen eyes.

"You are hiding something from me Severus," he stated softly.

Severus, in turn, sighed, before agreeing with the statement, "Indeed I am, Draco, though it is more to further my denial than withhold anything from you."

Draco did not answer, merely letting his stormy grey gaze continue to appraise the older vampire.

He did not have long to wait.

"I have come to the most…reluctant conclusion, that your father has indeed returned to England once again."

Draco merely nodded, but paused as he heard a small gasp of surprise from behind him.

Turning around, Draco blinked and felt his lips twitch.

Harry was looking scandalously adorable.

All curled up on at the edge of the sofa, shoulders slightly hunched and green eyes wide, Harry had managed to bite a small hole in the top corner of the bag and was holding it pursed between small hands as he sucked gently at the tip, a slight trickle of dark red blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.

Draco couldn't quite fathom why Harry looked quite so cute at that moment, but he did, and the blonde had to restrain himself from laughing at his poor, unknowing minuo.

Draco was untimely broken from his little vision as Severus gave a small derisive cough from behind him and he was forced to turn, strangely reluctant, back to face the other man.

"Now that you have satisfied yourself," sneered Severus with his usual amount of charm, "I would be particularly interested if perhaps you would give your thoughts on such a matter?"

Draco appraised him seriously for a moment before speaking, "My thoughts are quite my own Severus, but I am wondering, what prompted you so resolutely to your conclusion?"

After knowing Draco for so many years, Severus easily got the hint, and the slight threat behind the man's words.

Severus sighed again, this time rather disconsolately and proceeded to adroitly pull out a letter from seemingly nowhere.

"I received word from your mother Draco."

At this, Draco paled. It was a little hard to tell, considering Draco's already alabaster complexion, but regardless, the blonde's pallor was nearly ashen.

Harry remained wide-eyed at the conversation, eyes flickering between the two other vampires, but remained silent and unconsciously sucked a little harder on his blood supply.

"I-I see." Said Draco after a few moments, noticeably composing himself.

"She is back in Europe then I take it?"

"In Paris in fact," murmured Severus, "she also requests to see you."

Draco closed his eyes, deep in thought; he hadn't seen his mother for decades, and visiting her was not to be the most pleasant of experiences, he was sure. But then again, at the same time, they would have to convene to speak of Lucius anyway.

Draco sighed to himself, why must things always be so difficult?

"Thank you Severus, that was most appreciated, is there anything else you would like to divulge at this moment in time?"

Severus merely stared at Draco with those cold dark eyes of his, expressing no emotion whatsoever.

"No, that is all I know of, I'm afraid."

"Very well, we must be on our way then I suppose."

Severus nodded, but merely turned to gaze into the fireplace, obviously expecting Draco to take his own leave.

Harry, for his part, had only become even more confused by the conversation. Lucius, Draco's father was still alive? Or rather, still existed. And his mother apparently as well. Were they vampires too? And why did the mention of either of his parents seem to upset Draco so much?

Unfortunately the only way to answer any of his questions would be to ask Draco.

And that, thought Harry as he closed the door behind both Draco and himself, still sipping on the remnants of the blood pack, would be about as enjoyable as trying to predict the British weather.

The hotel door opened and hit the beige walls with a bang. Jerking out of a slight daze, Luna glanced to the red head that framed the doorway.

"You know Ginny, you should really close the door before the Wrackspurts get in," she said solemnly.

Ginny blinked, before entering and shutting the door behind her, deciding to ignore her friend's odd comments. She did say them quite often after all.

Ginny walked sullenly to the bed that Luna was sprawled on, reading a rather peculiar magazine titled The Quibbler, and bounced up onto the bedcovers, staring over the other girl's shoulder.

After skimming over a particularly long and detailed article about the dangers of Nargles, Ginny decided it was safe to start the vent she had been itching to release all day, or more like all week, truth be told.

"Luna? Don't you find it odd that Harry hasn't called yet?"

Luna merely made a 'hmm' to show that while listening, she had no opinion on the subject matter. While also informing Ginny that she found her article more fascinating than what Ginny had to say.

"Oh come on Luna! I know you care about Harry just as much as I do! Surely you must be a little worried? Alright, Hermione does normally worry too much about these sorts of things, but really, when was the last time anyone actually spoke to him?"

Luna was silent for a moment, before turning the page lightly.

"I don't think I care quite as much about Harry as you do Ginny," she said vaguely, not pausing a second in her reading.

Ginny merely huffed, folded her arms and fell backwards on the bed, her long red hair getting twisted into tangles.

"But I haven't seen him in over a week! Not even spoken to him. Isn't it alright that I miss him?"

"Well," said Luna lightly, "it is a bit worrying that you miss him so much."

Ginny turned on her side and gaped at her friend, jaw flapping slightly; shocked by her last statement.

"Don't be sad Ginny, it was never meant to be," continued Luna in the airiest tone she possessed.

Ginny sat up immediately, staring at Luna in disbelief, "What do you mean, it was never meant to be?" she spluttered.

Luna merely turned another page, "Well, I was under the belief that Harry was gay, and so didn't like girls."

Ginny went red at the proclamation, all the way to the roots of her hair, "WHAT?! Harry isn't gay! I mean, yes, there was that time when we all walked in on him with that-boy from Norway, but it didn't mean anything."

Luna sighed. Ginny continued.

"Not really. Harry was just curious is all. Probably," her faced creased slightly with worry, before smoothing out again, "And at least, the most he is-is …bi-sexual, and that means it's perfectly okay for him to like girls too."

Ginny nodded at this, mostly to herself, proud of the conclusion she had come to.

Luna still had her nose buried in her magazine, "I've never seen Harry kiss a girl though, or have a girlfriend," she said in that light tone of hers.

"Well, well…" said Ginny nervously, "he just hasn't met the right girl yet is all, when he does I'm sure he'll go out with her."

Luna merely gave another 'hmm' and didn't reply.

A/N:How was that, hope it twas ok, aaah, poor Ginny, oh what shall happen to her...Anyway please review, i din't get many last time, oh and happy christmas:)