Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N:Um...hi? I know i said i would update quicker this time, but guess what? School work came up and wow, wad'ya know? All my time just dissapeared. I've written this chapter all in one day, helped along with the constant badgering of my Beta, redbull07, who is extremely impatient- be thankful. At any rate, here is the chapter, and i think its alright, i just really need to get the plot moving now, read and enjoy!

Warnings: Blood about, oh and more Ginny too.

In the Light of Dawn

Draco beat out a fast pace against the polished floors, uncaring to the two women who took one glance of him, and his scowl, and promptly fled from sight.

Suffice to say, that Draco was at this moment more than a little 'unhappy'. Really, if his mood had to be described, it would probably be most amply described as 'pissed off'.

…

At any rate, he was severely irritated. And not just by his last conversation. Everything this evening seemed to rubbing him the wrong way, getting him horribly frustrated.

The fact that he had just spent the last hour of his time, dealing with an exceptionally irritating cousin, a Nymphadora, who did not even hold his mother's maiden name anymore, who had just happened to know he was there that evening, and who decided to try to wrangle some influence over him for something or another.

He hadn't deigned to actually listen to her, bloody ingrate descendants. Her strangely vibrant purple hair had been more intriguing than anything she had to say, which wasn't exactly saying much about her conversation skills.

And now, he had to return to his mother's inquisition and complementary scolding. He reminded himself of why he had tried his best to avoid the woman at all costs for the past century or so. When he had been younger, he had been very appreciative of her guidance, but now, at well over three hundred years old, he most certainly could make better decisions for himself; she was always trying to meddle in some aspect of his life or another.

He growled almost imperceptibly as he made his way through the ballroom and began to climb the stairs, intent on satisfying his mother with pointless conversation and then leaving as soon as possible; it had been both a long night, and an unnecessarily trying one as well.

As he turned down a corridor he felt an unfamiliar sensation of guilt; he had left Harry all alone by himself after all. But Harry wasn't a child either, he didn't need to baby sit him.

Still, Draco would be glad when he could pick up his wayward minuo and return back to England; more pointedly, away from his overbearing mother.

With a sigh he swept back into the side parlour, meant for private discussion, though was more usually filled with the meaningless tête-à-tête of voracious social predators, namely of the female kind.

As he entered, he stopped short, eyes scanning the room, finding it to be very out of place.

His mother, in all her poised grace, was sitting quite innocuously in one of the green upholstered chairs, sipping on some spiced tea; the fragrance was tickling his nose. She had not been there when he had left.

Another passing glance ascertained that, indeed, Harry was nowhere to be seen.

His fingers twitched slightly, as his mood darkened further.

"Mother," he acknowledged with a tight smile. He did, however, remain standing where he was, next to the settee instead of moving towards her.

Narcissa merely made an odd sort of hum in reply, still daintily sipping at her teacup. She seemed determine not to have to meet her son's eyes, seemingly more fascinated with maintaining her immaculate posture.

"Mother, I was not aware that you had finished feeding."

"Yes," said Narcissa in a somewhat distracted tone, fingers once again trailing the edges of her enamel teacup, "it did not take nearly as long as I thought it would."

The fact that she seemed to be talking to herself at the same time as to him, coupled with Harry's uneasy absence, was enough to raise his suspicion.

"Mother, may I ask, as to where Harry is?"

Narcissa finally met his gaze, lifting her heavy head, earrings jingling slightly, "Hmm? Oh, when he and I talked, the poor dear seemed to be a little distressed, I think he may have gone for a little fresh air-he did seem awfully pale."

"And I am sure that you would have had nothing to do with that?" asked Draco warningly; leaving his mother alone with Harry was surely a recipe for disaster.

"Oh no Draco," replied Narcissa frostily, her voice as sharp as ice, "no, that is all down to you."

Draco's eyes flashed silver for a moment, in anger towards the subtle reprimand. Without another word, he left the room, stalking down the corridor with a metaphorical black cloud hanging above his head.

He growled once again, would he ever just be able to get out of here?!

He paused as the smell of blood began to twirl its way through the air. It was heavy and musky, the distinct flavours of metal and alcohol permeating through it. It also, worryingly, held the scent of his own charmant.

His previous ire and irritation vanished quickly, images of other vampire's feasting on the new Fledgling, or of Harry getting himself cornered by another Death Eater flitting through his head briefly as he made the final steps round the corner, finding himself in a dark, cold, and rather dusty unused hallway.

The heady scent of blood was permeating the area in a worryingly large amount, causing something akin to worry to settle deep, apprehensively on his chest.

He heard a strangled sob as the scent of blood peaked, causing him to look down.

Draco felt his heart lurch at the pathetic sight of his minuo, hunched down on the dirty floor, covered in his own blood and tears. He felt a stab of resentment, wondering what his mother had said to him, to cause him to get into this state.

Though, at the same time, he was inordinately glad that the spilling of blood was self-inflicted, rather than from other more…heinous activities; one could never be too careful when surrounded by vampires.

He kneeled down gracefully next to the shaking bundle, and with a regretful sigh, reached out and carefully extracted the man's teeth from his own arm, releasing another few trickles off blood.

Harry lifted his head as he felt someone touch him.

Draco felt something catch as he saw the descended fangs, the pearly white marred with dark red, and the usually dark green eyes brightened to an almost feral verdant in colour.

Their eyes locked, both staring at the other, neither moving forward or away. Harry's bleeding had stopped, though the tears were still resolutely sliding down his face.

There was an unearthly silence for a few, tense moments, before it was broken with a harsh whisper.

"I hate you," murmured Harry brokenly, eyes still glistening in the grey light of the approaching dawn.

Draco felt himself go a little colder at the words, the chill seeping into his flesh from the cold stone below his feet suddenly achieving a much finer bite.

"I hate you," repeated Harry once again, sounding desolate in his conviction.

Draco broke their staring first, and gently reached down to disentangle Harry from his uncomfortable position on the floor. Harry did nothing to resist, merely continuing to haunt him with that accusing gaze of his.

When he had finished with that, he silently brought Harry's forearm up for inspection. The fangs had gone deep; the wound was still trickling a little blood onto papery white skin, wider, thicker trails had already mostly started to dry, the colour caking into a more rusty red.

Slowly, Draco bent his head, and started to lick the wound closed, taking care to clean the surrounding stained flesh as well in his ministrations. He was a little startled to find that Harry felt cold, very cold.

Too cold in fact, to ever be considered alive.

For the first time, Draco felt some regret, some guilt over his selfishness; he was the one who decided that Harry shouldn't die yet; he was the one who decided that Harry should become one of the dark creatures of the world-without prior permission. And Harry hadn't said a thing about it. Did he really have the power to decide that for somebody? He was the one who couldn't let Harry go, for reasons that at the time were inherently, incredibly selfish.

Draco frowned slightly. He was not used to feeling emotions like these, guilt, perhaps even some twisted sort of remorse. He had never thought of his own selfish habits, which he readily admitted to, as something for him to be sorry over. It was…disconcerting, not to mention wearisome.

Feeling Harry's cold skin under his hands, looking into those bright green eyes, Draco knew he wanted him. In every way he could possibly think of, or devise. And he also knew, that he would never give that up, strange guilt or no. But, it would be best, he decided to himself, to make Harry just as selfish as himself, and never want to ever let him go either.

With another tired sigh, Draco pulled Harry towards himself, with a soft, "Come here."

Harry let himself be hauled into the embrace, and even turned slightly, so as to fit more comfortably. He buried himself in the other man's shoulder, wanting to push him away, but being too weak to do so.

He shut his eyes tightly, a few more rebellious tears slipping out from between closed lids, small droplets clinging to his eyelashes.

"I hate you," he mumbled once again into the vampires collar.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I HATE YOU!"

He ended up shouting, rubbing his already rough throat raw, but he didn't care, nothing really mattered to him at the moment.

But it had done it's job all the same, and with the shout, went the rest of all of his energy; he was just so tired. He only wanted to just sleep, and wake up, and have everything better again.

The tears ran freely once again as he collapsed against the blonde's shoulder, ignoring the soft hushing that Draco was lavishing him with. He finally fell into unconsciousness, with the ghost sensation of Draco nuzzling his hair.

Draco, for his part, was silent as he passed out in his arms. He knew perfectly well what had passed unsaid in Harry's exclamations.

He gave another sigh, and lifted the younger vampire off the floor. Shifting slightly to get him in a better position, Draco quickly stalked off down the hallway.

As he left, it did not once occur to him to say goodbye to Narcissa.

When Harry woke up, his first impression was of acute disorientation. His head pounded from his earlier breakdown and his eyes felt a little puffy from falling asleep while still crying.

Not to mention that the light was having a similar effect on his retinas at the moment as if he were waking from the most terrible hangover ever.

His limbs felt weak as well; causing him to flail instead of move over the silk sheets he was currently lying upon. He wondered, in his hazed state of mind, why he was feeling quite so awful; surely he couldn't of done this to himself just from last night?

It was when he collided with the form of a half-awake Draco that he suddenly realised he was experiencing nausea as well, but this one he could identify; it was the same sort one achieved when they hadn't eaten for far too long.

He felt his stomach cramp, and his mouth felt dry; obviously, these were the more unpleasant signs of him needing to Feed.

The only word Harry could use to sum up his situation was with a rather heartfelt: urgh.

He tilted his head slightly on the downy pillow his head was situated on, allowing him to view the drowsy vampire beside him.

He most certainly felt better than he had last night; mentally anyway, and he felt some embarrassment for overreacting so much; he bit into his own arm! For no true reason at all! Cry, yes, that was fine, but to actually hurt himself?!

Harry sighed to himself, remembering that everything usually seemed a little better in the light of the morning. On the other hand, however, he felt no remorse for his little confession to Draco either; he truly had felt as if he hated the vampire last night.

But, Draco had come for him, and had comforted him, and had not pushed him away at his words either. He quietly decided to himself to not bring up last night again, he didn't want to think about it, and it was so much easier to just get along with Draco, and not start a fight with him, which he knew he would if he brought it up.

That wasn't to say, however, that Harry had just suddenly decided to forgive the vampire for his blatant disregard of him yesterday. Oh no, would have his own say about that, but later. Revenge would be better when presented with the best opportunity possible, and besides, at that particular moment in time, Draco smelt really, really nice.

Almost nice enough for him to forget the growing ache in his canines, and the headache and the cramps that were becoming more frequent. He had Fed last night, but he supposed, what with the blood he had lost the previous night, it had accelerated his requirements.

Which, Harry thought, was most inconvenient. With a huff, and determined to ignore the rising discomfort, he snuggled deeper into his pillow, intent on falling back to sleep, unwilling to face sun.

Unfortunately for Harry, it didn't work, the growing pain preventing him from slipping away again. He shifted slightly on the bed, vainly trying to ease the torment through some movement.

Suffice to say, the only help that did, was to rouse Draco from his greatly appreciated slumber. Harry froze as he felt the vampire next to him stir, uncertain just what he could say to the other man, despite his decision not to say anything from just a few minutes ago.

Casting around for something to direct his attention away from Draco, Harry dimly registered that they were back in Draco's bedroom at the house; it appeared that the blonde had taken them back from Paris in the early hours of this morning.

Draco sighed heavily as he saw that Harry was refusing to look at him. He didn't know quite how to deal with this…awkwardness.

After staring intently at his minuo's back for several moments, Draco gave into his impatience and just dragged the smaller man to his side of the bed, unheeding to the small squeak of surprise.

"Harry, I think there may be some issues about your health that need dealing with," Draco murmured, placing his mouth between the soft junction between ear and jaw.

Harry couldn't help the slight shudder that racked its way through his frame at the contact.

"Now, when were you planning on telling me that you needed to Feed, hmmm?"

Harry didn't even try to fathom how Draco could possibly know that he was hungry; it was merely just another one of those unexplainable things about the man.

He did however, try to squirm away from him, feeling a blush made half of anger and half of embarrassment rise as Draco started to nuzzle against his jaw.

"Well, there isn't anything to really do about it at the moment now is there?" asked Harry, becoming more irritated than normal, mostly due to the continuous thumping pain scratching its way through his head to take residence in his temples.

"Of course there is something to do about it, you may be angry with me right now, but there is no need to be purposefully obtuse, now is there?"

Stilling in surprise and mouth gaping in indignation, Harry nearly made his escape from the vampire's hold in his anger, but Draco would have none of it, and held on tightly.

"Now, now, no need to be like that, you're just being more irritable because you need to Feed, so…"

And with that quick reply, Draco tilted his head to the side, exposing a length of pale skin and, with a little more gentleness and care, placed his hand on the back of Harry's head and pushed him gently to his neck.

Harry felt his sluggish pulse rate rise as he breathed in the scent of blood, just underneath the surface. He vaguely remembered Draco's comment a few days ago that his blood would be able to sustain him for a short time, but held less nutritional value than if it were human. Harry presumed this little Feeding session would be just to ward off the hunger until something more suitable could be found.

Sighing half in resignation, Harry let himself bite down on the pale skin of the older vampire, canines descending with far greater ease than they ever had before, leaving the action to almost feel completely natural.

Filing away this slightly disturbing piece of information for later perusal, Harry let his eyes slide closed in ecstasy as the blood hit his tongue.

He had forgotten what Draco tasted like; the other blood he had consumed recently had overshadowed it. But, as much as Harry was unwilling to admit it at the moment, Draco did supply by far the best.

It was brief, and Harry quickly pulled away, licking somewhat absentmindedly at the puncture wounds, feeling oddly detached as he completed the process as if he done it every single day of his life.

Harry had to remind himself that this was a good thing; considering that he would be doing it every single day of his life from now on.

Ginny tapped her pen impatiently against the half-finished crossword that was spread across the cheap plastic tray that folded down from the seat in front.

She sighed, and turned her head, gazing unfocused out at the sea of white fluffy clouds that covered the entire expanse outside the small round window.

She glanced irritated out of the corner of her eye toward the boy sitting next to her. Colin was fast asleep, head lolling onto her headrest as he snored in the most obnoxious way he could possibly achieve.

If she didn't know any better, she would have sworn that he was doing it to her on purpose, his sole aim to make this flight the most annoying and tedious she had ever had to endure.

In fact, so far, this one was turning out worse than the flight to Tahiti when she was suffering from acute food poisoning and spent most of the eleven hours bent over a bucket.

At least then, Harry had been there to help comfort her, making it a bit more bearable than this point in time. All right, all of them had taken turns to hold her hair back for her, but really, that was completely inconsequential.

Ginny sighed out loud once again, and shifted in her seat, attempting without success to find some more legroom; how she hated economy class!

She finally gave up and twisted so that she was now kneeling on her seat, facing behind her to gaze out over the sea of passengers. She passed over the crowd, until she managed to pick out bushy brown hair and a tuft of red that matched her own.

She was disappointed to see that there were on the complete other side of the cabin, and several rows up from her to boot.

She fell back down into her chair, resigning herself to wait until Luna got back from the bathroom. She let her head hit the back of her headrest, the itchy blue fabric rubbing against her back.

Her fingers began to tap a rhythm out on her armrest, the metal clicking against her painted nails.

She nibbled on her lip, how long till they landed again? The flight was only supposed to be two and half-hours, and she felt sure that they'd been in the air longer than three.

She checked her watch one last time, registering it as only one o'clock, and went back to tapping the armrest.

She supposed she'd just have to wait.

Harry straightened his shirt, determinably smoothing over any and all creases. He was in one of the bedrooms adjacent to Draco's- it was smaller, and a bit more dusty, but it was private, and much better than the tower room he had first stayed in.

All that seemed like such a long time ago.

He sighed and dug his much-abused phone out from one of his discarded jacket pockets. He absently marvelled at how it had managed to retain so much battery, or that it worked at all really, considering that it had been thrown out a second floor window and into a shrubbery.

He refused to question it any further however, and distractedly checked if he had any messages; he really needed to get back on track of things.

The only problem being, he wasn't quite sure what these 'things' might be.

All train of thought halted however, when he caught sight of the time and date, located in the bottom right corner of the screen.

Friday.

Friday afternoon.

The day that Hermione, Ron and the others would be arriving.

To come check up on him, and see how far he had got with his assignment.

…

Fuck.

Some miles away, at the nearest airport, Ginny was shepherding her friends as fast as possible through baggage claim.

A/N: So, how goes it? I hope you liked it, moving away from some of the spontaneous angst- next chapter going to be fun don't you think? It'll include so many things, it's making me giggle manically just thinking about it :P