Disclaimer:I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N: You know, I hadn't actually planned to put any of this 'angst' thing you speak of into my story, especially not of the relationship kind. Huh...shows what I know. My beta's going to kill me for this...I think I'll go take refuge in my special 'angry mob shelter'. Yes, that sounds like a fine idea. Meanwhile, I'm sorry that this chapter took so long, especially as it isn't that long (I had to chop into two new chapters it was going to be so long), and then I make it, not only really bad, but then probably make everyone really angry too. I suck...BUT I plan on having the next chapter out much more quickly, so never fear! Please read and review!

Warnings: Unexpected angst...seriously. Oh, and a surprisingly bitchy Narcissa too (another thing I didn't expect).

A Fire in the Blood

Harry shifted uncomfortably, eyes fixed on his clasped hands and vainly trying not to let the tensed hunch of his shoulders show.

He was sitting on a plush settee, upholstered in silk green fabric and embroidery, situated in some sort of side-parlour. They had been directed here as soon as they had left the room where they had met with Draco's mother and that had been about two hours ago.

A very long two hours conducted in absolute silence, even though Draco was only sitting a few feet away, on a matching armchair.

Harry gave a small, stiff sigh, purposefully ignoring the incidental fact that the blonde had taken the seat furthest away from him, and let his eyes roam the area for the hundredth time that night.

It was a small room, but lavishly furnished, almost cosy with its thick soft carpet, burning fireplace and drawn shutters. The walls were surrounded by wood panelling, which in its rich ruby red hue, gave the room a great amount of warmth.

The slightly steaming tea set just reinforced the relaxed ambience.

It was unfortunate then, that Harry couldn't bring himself to be comfortable.

He glanced once more at the vampire sitting in the corner. He was turned away from the light, not that it would impair Harry's vision any, but the angle was so that most of his face was hidden from view.

Thus making it even more difficult than usual to divine the unpredictable man's thoughts. The fact that he had not a said a word to him in the entire time they had been alone wasn't helping Harry's paranoid thoughts one bit either.

Draco had told him that it was better for him not to say anything at all when they visited Narcissa, and Harry had decided, on reflection, to keep up that advice. Never before had Draco looked quite so…unreachable. He had always been somewhat aloof and mysterious, but this-this was just ridiculous!

Harry huffed slightly and folded his arms. Fortunately for Draco, Harry didn't dare say anything about it quite yet; they were still in Paris, and the presence of so many, far more powerful vampires, was intimidating enough for Harry to keep his mouth firmly shut.

And so, he had to content himself with ranting, and circular trains of thoughts in his own head, waiting with a certain amount of unease for Narcissa to return.

Harry's head shot up from its position staring at the floor as the door was abruptly pushed open.

He was disappointed to see that it was just another messenger; he was growing exhausted from all the tedious waiting.

The newcomer, Harry idly noticed, was the same man from before, the Hote. The man appeared to have returned to his palpitations, movements sharp but indirect, his dark eyes dancing with a certain amount of anxiety.

The Hote swiftly moved through the room towards Draco, bending down to speak in hushed tones in the blonde's ear.

Harry felt the unpleasant sensation in his throat tighten once again just a little more, though this time it was also accompanied with a flash of something searing briefly through his veins, before returning to simmer angrily in his stomach.

He caught a few words of conversation.

"My Lord, …unexpected…. I'm afraid that…. new…that. I'm sure…appropriately…problem…yes?"

Harry watched detachedly as he saw Draco nod irritably, before rising and begin to stalk over towards the door. He did not turn to even once spare a glance at Harry, not even when he called out a sharp, "Stay," before leaving the room in a rush.

Harry, half risen from his seat merely stared at the closed back of the door for several moments; mind still processing Draco's blunt command, which one would normally give to a dog.

It took a few moments, and then Harry let himself fall back onto the sofa with a despondent flump, still staring wide eyes at the door, not entirely sure what had just happened.

Didn't…didn't Draco like him anymore? Harry winced at the needy tone of his thoughts; it was really quite pathetic. Yet, the notion that he had been purposefully skirting over the entire past two hours would just not go away.

Harry frowned, mind swirling confusedly.

He was just about to think of something that was likely just as hurtful, when he was fortunately derailed from all thought.

The other side door had opened, and this time it was Narcissa that walked inside.

The only thing Harry was thinking about now was panicking.

He-he couldn't be in the same room, (alone!) with her! What would he do, say? More importantly, what would she do?

As soon as she entered, Harry jumped up from his seat, somehow he just thought it appropriate, and forcibly restrained his outward display of mental panic to just twisting his fingers roughly together.

Narcissa, for her part, held the same dispassionate gaze as before, her pale blue eyes flickering round the room before a small, somewhat tight smile graced her face.

"Ah," she said, moving rather deftly through the room considering the amount of clothing she was manoeuvring around with her, "it's just the two of us for the moment. How convenient."

Harry used the excuse of sitting back down to hide the sudden tremor that ran through him. The mention of 'convenience' was perhaps a little too ominous for his already tired mind to take.

Meanwhile, Narcissa seated herself in a cascade of fabric; her back pulled away from the chair to remain straight. She then smoothly pushed two enamelled teacups from the side of the table to the middle, before gently lifting the equally decorated teapot.

Harry stubbornly refused to let his surprise show when instead of tea, the smell of blood gently wafted into the room, or that the contents that were poured out were steaming slightly.

Narcissa finished, and just as elegantly as all her actions seemed to be, gracefully pushed the second teacup in Harry's direction, obviously an invitation.

Slightly incredulous that he was about to have what he supposed was the vampire equivalent of tea with this woman, Harry could only mutter out a small word of thanks.

He was highly aware of the sharp gaze directed on the top of his head, taking in every detail and feature.

More to have something to do, Harry sipped at the teacup, unable to stop the small scrunch of his nose at the peculiar taste of blood mingled with spice.

Narcissa gave a soft laugh from across from him.

"It's flavoured with cinnamon and cloves, giving it a somewhat of an acquired taste I'm afraid."

She levelled a look at Harry that made him squirm against the back of the settee.

"Especially for the newly initiated."

Harry could say nothing and Narcissa took her own sip of 'tea'. She let slim fingers gently trace the rim as she set it back onto the table.

A poignant silence stretched for several minutes, neither of the two saying a word; Narcissa was busy observing the creature that Draco had actually deigned to bring along and Harry was determinedly trying to ignore the stare.

Finally the woman gave a heavy sigh, her chest heaving with the movement.

"So, Draco has actually Turned you has he?" She did not wait for him to respond with the obvious. "Well, isn't that something, he's never taken in a Fledgling before, he has preferred to remain alone for such a very long time."

Harry couldn't quite stop the shiver at her tone, it was light, but it still held a seemingly endless amount of blasé sentiment. He distracted himself by taking another drink of the metallic mix of cinnamon and cloves from his cup, impressed when he managed to lift it without betraying his tremors of fear.

Narcissa was an incredibly intimidating woman.

She leaned her elbows on the table, apparently disregarding some of her impeccable manners, and laid her pointed chin on entwined fingers.

He saw one of her rings glint in the firelight.

"Now, I think you and me should have a little talk don't you think? Yes, I think so. We should, I suppose, start with your name."

She peered pointedly at him, and Harry swallowed in a vain attempt to find his voice again; he appeared to have left it behind somewhere back in England.

"Harry," he at length was able to stutter out, "Harry Potter."

"Oh? Rather a common name, but, that's not really for me to decide is it?" It wasn't really a question.

"No, I suppose it isn't," replied Harry, with as much poise as he could manage which, while Narcissa was in the room, wasn't much.

Narcissa smiled in an indulgent manner, lips pulling tight. He felt her shadowed eyes glance over him once again, as if she couldn't quite decide what to make of him.

And indeed, she couldn't. As far as she was concerned, this…boy, not even truly Turned yet, was far below what her son should be keeping company with.

Oh yes, the Fledgling had a certain prettiness, but surely not enough for Draco to Turn him and keep him?

Narcissa sighed imperceptibly. Draco had always displayed good taste in the past, with a few notable exceptions; she fiercely hoped this was not one of these times. Perhaps this little slip of a childe would someday amount to something?

Though, from his shy demeanour and unapparent power, she was doubtful on the subject. She sighed again; over the last couple of centuries she and Draco hardly ever saw eye to eye.

She flicked her heavy painted lashes over to the creature sitting rigidly on the settee once again. She had desired for her son to find himself a proper companion for a while now. And not just to have someone else to fuss over said man's health with.

Draco was a powerful vampire and he had spent most of his time in Rest. Not a good combination, gaining power with age, but not the control. And not too mention that the isolation would be doing him no good either. Such actions could lead to a state of lunacy, or worse.

And on top of all that, he had been free to do whatever he wished for the past three hundred years or more.

Simply put, Draco really needed someone who could bring company, but also more importantly, keep him inline.

This little thing that Draco had brought with him did not seem produce any of these qualities.

A disappointment.

But, at least she should be heartened by the fact that Draco had taken an interest in someone, no matter who they were. Perhaps next time Draco would choose a companion better suited to him.

She appraised this 'Harry' once again.

"You appear to be quite advanced in your Turning, it is likely to be fully completed soon, I'm curios as to when Draco Turned you?"

Harry nibbled his lip, thankful that he hadn't started as the silent Narcissa had suddenly spoken, eyes flicking to the side as he recalled the answer.

"Well, its Thursday at the moment, so Friday…six days ago," he answered, words coming out in a bit of a rush due to his haste to respond to the question.

Narcissa leaned back from the table, masking her faint surprise. It usually took up to several weeks for a Fledgling to fully Turn, without extenuating circumstances that is. To Turn in one week, that was very curious.

She gave a tight smile, the lines on her face taught.

"Ah, no wonder I have not heard about you then, Draco usually tells me everything you see, we're very close."

Her words were soft, as always, and yet they had the mysterious quality of sounding like the direst of threats at the same time.

Also, her effect that she seemed to hold over him was seriously beginning to irritate Harry. Fortunately for him, he just couldn't quite work up the nerve to actually say something of the sort to her, though he was sure his tone would say just as much.

Narcissa continued, "Now, I don't know how long you're going to be…accompanying my son, but I would just like to inform you of some things that are required of your station."

Harry blinked in surprise, "My…station?" he repeated blithely.

A spark of irritation lit Narcissa's eyes for a moment.

"Yes, yes," she said irritably, "I suppose Draco hasn't told you anything? I despair over him sometimes."

She exhaled harshly through her nose, though she remained completely unmoved in her ire otherwise.

"You are accompanying my son are you not, you are his company?"

"I-I guess so-I-" stuttered Harry, at a loss as to how he completely lost the thread of the conversation in such a small amount of time.

Narcissa cut across him, her perfectly articulated words slicing through the warm air of the parlour, demonstrating her growing irritation and waning patience with the utmost precision.

"Then I shall enlighten you as to your duties."

Harry never got the chance to interrupt.

"My son is not just some meagre vampire that you get off the street, he has power and influence that goes in regard to his station, that I'm sure you must have at least guessed at by now, and so it is in your description to attend to him accordingly, to act as a combination of servant, confidence and lover, which, I am quite sure, you have been so far inadequate to provide."

Harry could for once, truly only stare. Narcissa, though still retaining almost all of her composure, was most definitely in the throes of a… tirade, the words falling swiftly from between red lips and her eyes were piercing in their ferocity.

"Personally, I do not think you are qualified in the slightest, but, unfortunately, it is not my place to question my son on such matters, and so I must make sure you are up to standard, and please do not gape so, it is most unbecoming."

She finished her speech with another heave of her chest as she breathed in a reflex reaction to her antipathy.

Harry, for several moments was stunned into a shocked silence. Never did he think he would see this woman, say something quite so…blunt.

As the words finally began to trickle in through his mind, and he began to process what the woman had actually said, Harry felt the bubbling anger writhe in his stomach again.

First, Draco seemed to be ignoring him for absolutely no reason whatsoever and being unnecessarily distant, then he was dismissed by seemingly every single person here, and then Narcissa decides to insult him repeatedly for a situation that he had been thrown into barely more than a week ago!

The injustice of the past day and all its frustrations rose to a height. Harry was quite sure that this was a similar level of anger that induced murderous tendencies.

He dearly wished in that moment to be able to shout at that woman, to be able to hurt her equally as much, whether physically or mentally, it didn't matter.

He felt his canines itch as they brushed up against his bottom lip.

However, no matter how much he may desire to suddenly maim this woman, he was acutely aware that this was not possible. But still, there was no way in hell that he was just going to sit there and let her continue to talk about him in such a derogatory manner!

No matter how her words may seem to ring true; why other reason was Draco ignoring him so?

Harry easily overpowered the negative thoughts and let his anger just simmer under the surface and gave Narcissa a smile just as frosty as one of her own, grasping his tea cup in a clenched grasp.

He sat stiffly, but drank the last remains of the bloody contents; purposefully letting the dregs, full of spice, slip over his tongue, uncaring to the burn it caused.

He then set it gently on the table, a dire contrast to his own sentiments.

"I'm afraid, Narcissa, that I shall have to take my leave," he said in a cold, persistently formal tone, "as you seem to detest my presence so much, and I can't believe that I would want to hear anything more that you've got to say."

He felt, for the first time, the odd sensation of his fangs clicking as he spoke. The pressure they caused on his lip, descended as they were, was oddly reassuring.

Narcissa said nothing, her detached gaze returning to sweep across her face.

Harry stood up stiffly, inclined his head with the smallest movement possible and strode swiftly out the door before he had the opportunity to hit something. Preferably Draco.

He was the one that brought him here in the first place after all.

He quickly made his way along the balconies that lined the hall, unfeeling to the splendour sparkling below, and down some steps, to come to an out of the way corridor.

Here, it was dark, cold and silent, with no one else around.

He sunk to the floor, back to the wall as he stared out unseeing through the grey light of the early hours of the morning.

He brought his knees to his chest and buried his head in them, folding his arms.

Where the hell had Draco pissed off to anyway?!

Why wasn't he here now? What-what had he done to push the other man away?

Harry hadn't really thought of it at the time, their relationship just seemed to…happen. And up until this moment, he hadn't quite realised just how much the stupid blonde had actually come to mean to him. Hadn't realised just how much of a stable presence in his life the vampire had become.

And now…

He thought back to that very morning, when he had woken up in Draco's bed, following some very…intimate activities. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Hadn't…hadn't that meant anything to Draco? Did he mean anything to him?

The man was just so hard to read, and he never told him anything and he was always disappearing and never gave an explanation, and now he just did not seem to care at all…

Yet when he had face that Death Eater two nights ago, Draco had been so mad…

Harry just didn't know what to think anymore. This whole situation was surreal. He was only supposed to go to that house because of…of…Hermione! Yes, Hermione, and Ron, and Ginny, and Luna, and everyone else.

God, if this morning felt like a lifetime ago, then they didn't even feel real at all, as if they were merely figments of his imagination, belonging to a dream only half remembered.

He grit his teeth as he thought of what did seem real at the moment.

The house, meeting Draco, his death, the Death Eaters, a broken window, Severus, hearing about his parents from Sirius and Remus, that woman, the gun, the pain, the blood, the unshakable feeling of loss…

The anger and the hurt and confusion was building up in him like a fountain from a spring. It washed over him in a haze, wrapping around his head and making his vision swim.

He couldn't focus, only on the images flashing through his mind, and of the great frustration mixed with sadness rushing to meet him. He suddenly felt hot, and nauseas, and he just wanted to nothing more than scream at the hurt.

In a vain attempt to relieve it, Harry sunk his throbbing canines into his own forearm, teeth sinking deep, thick, dark red blood spurting out over his skin, into his mouth and over the dusty floor.

He winced, as he felt his teeth scrape over the bone and he let the hot tears fall from his eyes and down to join the soft trickles of blood seeping all over his arm.

He sat there, huddled up in a dark hallway, shoulders shaking with silent sobs, and fangs plunged deeply into the flesh of his arm, unmoving from their position.

He just-he just….

He just wanted Draco.

A/N:Oh look! It's me typing away on the next chapter, therefor, you can't kill me...right? Hem ,anyway, sorry bout this, it'll all clear up in no time, and next chapter WILL contain our little sacrifices- I mean 'friends' from Italy, won't that be nice? Hehehehehe...I formally apologise for this chapter, it did not turn out the way I thoguht it would,at all. But if you like some angsting in your lives, then hey, I hope you enjoy it :P