Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N: Hi! I know you're probably all preparing to lynch me, but i'm really, really sorry that this is so late. Over two months! I've just had a really bad block on this chapter, and for the story in general, but with so little left to go, i just had to push myself to finish it. So, here is the next chapter, and thankyou all very much for the reviews, i love them all dearly.

Warnings: SLASH, creepy houses, and hot blondy vampires.

The Glass Tips

Silence.

It echoed around the far reaches of the room, almost tangible as it fell like a heavy weight upon them.

Harry couldn't find it in himself to move a single inch, captivated by the horrified stares of his former friends. If any remaining doubt had lingered, their faces would have squashed it into nothing. As it was, when their voices finally cried out, he felt nothing inside.

"H-Harry…" called out Hermione's voice, shaking in a terrified quaver, "What, what did you just do?"

The whisper broke half way through, like a squeaking mouse as she held her hands to her mouth, staring at him with such an impenetrable look of incredulity. Ron couldn't remove his eyes from the empty blood packet on the desk, his fists clenched and shaking.

Harry didn't even bother to avert his eyes of the girl's as he replied.

"It's- it's nothing. It doesn't matter…"

His words felt hollow even to himself, his mind oddly blank, as if his consciousness had simply decided to float out his body rather than possibly try to deal with the ensuing chaos. All he saw was trouble and pain.

Hermione shrieked.

"What do you mean, nothing?! You just drank blood! That's from a hospital, why would you-?!"

She cut herself off, misty brown eyes rounding in horrible comprehension, and Harry felt at a loss as she drifted back a few steps to stumble into Colin. Away from him.

Ron continued to shake with every word, his head titled to the floor to hide his expression, while Luna stared at him with unusually keen eyes. The usually misty blue full with a dreadful clarity.

Harry let loose a bitter chuckle, folded his arms and stared listlessly at the dirty floorboards. He'd known that he wasn't a part of their human world anymore, but he'd hoped, somewhat vainly, that it wouldn't come so soon that he would have to face such sickened faces. And from people who used to the most important to him. It was a stab in his mind, rather than his heart.

"I guess you could say I've changed- I'm sure you've noticed it," he said absently feeling almost darkly satisfied in horrifying them so much. However, his insidiously calm nature just seemed to set off the bushy haired woman even more, like an insult, he had offended her.

"Changed?! You- you…What the hell happened to you?! You never used to be like this! Why…" she uttered miserably, both raging and sobbing, tears running down her face. It was clear she couldn't comprehend how someone she knew so well, could suddenly so different. There was no logic she could find.

"I told you not to come here…" he muttered, repeating his words to her from earlier. It would have all been so much easier if they hadn't come to retrieve him, if they'd simply disappeared, melded into the background of passing people, barely a passing thought. Where he wouldn't have had to say goodbye, and in such a manner too. His heart still beat, though to a different tune, and being reviled as a monster wasn't on top of his list that he cherished. He felt a distinct unease as he stood there, not being able to bring himself to reply to her anymore. He was almost vulnerable, as he remained quietly where he was, under their scrupulous scrutiny. Not that they could see that, too involved within their own fears.

"You…you're a…a…" stuttered Hermione, having easily caught the lengthened canines when he drank that blood, human blood, as if it where nothing more than water. It all made a sick sort of sense in her head; his odd behaviour and distance, the pale skin and strange new, almost unnatural beauty; the grace about him. She'd never once believed that vampires could exist before, but after what she'd seen that night, being chased by beings she couldn't even begin to name, she was left with the notion that nothing would ever take her by surprise again. Even that now, her friend…was gone.

Simply gone.

"A vampire."

Harry glanced up, towards Ron who had finally found his voice, trembling with anger and rage. He could practically taste it coming off the red head. He said not a word, merely staring silently. The young man was white as a sheet, different connections firing in his head that filled him with the need to storm and rage.

Ron choked, collecting himself as he raised his head to fix a furious glare on his old friend. A friend no more in his eyes.

"You," he spat, shaking from head to toe, his teeth gritted together "You know, don't you? About what happened to Ginny? What happened to my sister!"

Looking him in the face, Harry couldn't bring himself to open his mouth, paralysed with sensations he could no longer name or categorise, but which robbed him of his speech as his former best friend fixed him with a look of uttermost hatred, his expression mutated into an ugly, feral snarl.

"She was so pale…like all the blood was simply drained away from her…" he grit his teeth ferociously as he saw his little sister's image in his mind's eye, pale and cold and dead. The mere thought sent him leaping into sudden movement all at once, rushing the vampire leaning oh-so casually against that bloody desk.

He lunged to reach out and grab fistfuls of the brunette's shirt, jerking the smaller man towards him to growl in his face, murderous thoughts swimming in his head.

"You! Were you the one who killed her? Were you the one who…" his voice peaked and cracked, broken into tiny pieces as he stared with wet, wild eyes, seeking answers so feverishly. For, he finally had an outlet for the blame and guilt that ate him from the inside.

However, somewhere in the back of his mind, a part of Harry bristled to be held by a mortal, to be demanded of; he didn't like it, and the little wedge of pride rose to the surface as anger and irritation, fuelling his ire. He reached up to clutch onto Ron's wrists, easily gripping hard enough to cause the bone to crack ominously. The sound filled the room, and Hermione let out a dry sob.

"Let go of me," he hissed, green eyes gleaming a warning verdant, "I didn't kill your sister- that wasn't me, so remove yourself."

Ron stumbled back; stunned as Harry effortlessly pushed him away, releasing sore wrists. He rubbed them incredulously as he peered at Harry, a new emotion beginning to roll though his eyes; fear. He stumbled and the knowledge that it was a vampire in front of him shook him deeply. Thoughts of Ginny momentarily pushed aside.

The part of Harry that should have been repulsed at such an emotion directed at him was conspicuously missing, as he felt nothing but satisfaction. Uneasy about this revelation, he turned determinedly away from them all, ignoring the way Hermione hiccupped, her voice lodged in her throat for now. They huddled closer together, but Harry paid little attention, for he was now intensely focused on something else entirely, that had been nagging at him ever since he'd left Draco's side earlier that evening.

Had it really only been that long? It felt almost like forever, and his entire body seemed to writhe at the distance. He had been fighting an irresistible pull to return to his sire, which had only been quenched by his need for blood and sustenance. But now that urge had been assuaged (if only temporarily) then the maddening itch was back to hover over his shoulders, the dark feeling in his gut that had been lingering all day refusing to dissipate.

He refrained from the need to pace out the overwhelming desire to go running back to Draco.

"Harry…?"

He ignored the tremulous enquiry, merely glancing to them, before he determinedly walked through the door from which Severus had exited earlier. If the mortals were sensible, they would know to stay put.

Stepping out, he quickly recognised it as the slightly more lushly decorated living room and he just as rapidly spied the older vampire sitting near the fire, muttering irritably to himself as he sat hunched with a book in hand.

Harry approached cautiously, feeling inexplicably nervous and jumpy all of a sudden as he made his way past the towering, overfilled bookshelves to stand by the hearth.

"Severus?" he called, though the older man did not reply.

"I-I need to go and-"

He halted, as Severus rose from the hunched armchair, for one moment reminding all too well of an overgrown bat. However, bat or no, he still cut an impressive figure. Though it didn't hold a candle to Draco, in Harry's own personal opinion.

"Most certainly not. You're not going anywhere, do you understand me?"

Snape's voice cut through the soft crackling of the fire like ice, a deadly velvet.

Harry shook his head and Severus hissed, irritated. How perfectly wonderful he thought spitefully, Draco sends the little fledgling down for him to baby-sit, and said idiot wishes to wander right back. He didn't much care for the Potter in front of him, but he owed Draco enough to keep the boy out of harm's way.

"I don't really care what you say- I've got to get back."

Dark eyes, like black holes swallowed him up in their gaze, causing him to shudder under their impenetrable gaze. He couldn't shake the feeling that those eyes could delve into his mind and have all his secrets bare for the world to see.

"And just why might that be?" asked Severus in a mocking tone that carried over easily.

Harry frowned to himself, but was not dissuaded by the other's attitude, feeling confidence begin to seep back into his spine.

"I don't know the rhyme or reason for it, I just desperately feel that I need to get back to Draco. And you are hardly going to stop me."

The words were braver than he felt, as he had no doubt that Severus could indeed prevent his leave very easily. Half expecting to be forcibly restrained in some way or another, he was surprised when Severus simply made another noise of dissatisfaction that could be mistaken for something deadly poisonous.

"Stupid boy…Do what you like- if you get killed its not my fault in the slightest. And when Draco becomes angered by it, that also has nothing to do with me."

And with that he dismissed him, letting Harry slip out the room, and the door, feeling a distinct rise in annoyance when he remembered the little flock of sheep that nuisance had brought along with him. Hopefully they would remain quiet; or he'd have to force them.

"Harry…? Where, where are you going? Harry?!"

Massaging his temples, Severus cast a wary glance after the younger vampire, feeling an old and familiar weariness wash over him, settling deep in his bones. Draco should have known better, like the boy would be able to resist immediately returning to his sire's side. And he certainly wouldn't be bothered to stop the inevitable. Draco may have bought some time, but his little toy couldn't be kept out of danger, no matter what he seemed to think.

He snorted to himself, it could only be hoped that Lucius was in one of his better moods; that man, once a dear friend had become deeply twisted to gain the power he held. Now so unpredictable that even his own family could barely tolerate his presence. He absently hoped that his old friend from centuries past wouldn't kill his godson's pet. After all, Draco deserved the chance to have a little fun, a little happiness. For despite his distaste of the little thing, he couldn't deny that some company would be good for Draco, much better than he'd been doing so far at any rate.

Severus settled himself back into his armchair, picking up his book only half heartedly, thoughts elsewhere.

This was all Lucuis's fault in the first place he thought cynically as he stared deep into the heart of the fire as it danced in the hearth, his face set in a deep frown.

And that man had a lot to make up for.

The curtains, soft silk embroidered in delicate patterns, now tattered with age quivered against the open window. Though clouds lingered overhead, rain was nowhere to be seen, letting the fabric flutter as gently as a butterfly wing, without the chance of damp.

It cast a corresponding shadow on the wood flooring, the varnish long gone, giving the room an eerie cast. Though the figure that lay unmoving, pristine in the beauty of death upon the stiff couch managed fine all on her own. Her skin was papery white, and just as delicate, empty veins standing out against her skin, her red hair falling like a flash of fire over the armrest in a waterfall.

A silent witness to his entrance.

A clap of thunder bellowed from overhead, the accompanying flash of lightning sending the shadows scuttling out of sight, leaving an imposing figure of a man standing in the doorway.

He stood unmoving, surveying the room with a lucid eye, light breaths inhaling the scent of blood, new and old. This room used to be the main reception room, for talks both formal and idle. With such magnificent furniture, the best of the best, and silks all the way from depths of the Middle East. Yet now, its former splendour was spent, leaving it a dry shell of its former self.

Still, it had its quirks, as his silver gaze settled on the figure resting so delicately. He leisurely walked into the room, gliding on silent feet that sent even the dust scurrying. A long, pale finger, sharp in its keenness, traced the faded cotton, all the way up to fire hair and smooth white cheeks.

Such a pity she was already dead.

He lingered over her form for several long moments; time stretched to accommodate his passing inspection, thick and heavy like a stiff wool blanket.

More thunder rumbled discontentedly from high above, and the mysterious figure raised his head, eyes narrowing in satisfaction as the one of the hand painted doors inched open, to reveal another. Grey eyes met grey, and the silence went taught as a bowstring, ready to snap at a moments' notice.

A tight, yet curved smile alighted stone features.

"Ahh," a silky voice crooned, "Draco, you're here."

Similar silver eyes stared back at him, not a single thought or feeling betrayed on his sculpted face.

"Father."

Lucius's face twisted into an expression of amusement, yet his eyes only held repressed anticipation, which unknowingly sent chills down his son's spine. Such a delight.

"You don't look happy to see me Draco," he sighed, "and to see that pains me so. You used to adore it when I saw you…"

Draco made no move to enter the room any further, or to reply, merely watching with blank eyes. Not even a twitch over bitter old memories. His father appeared to grow bored quickly, when he incited no reaction, turning his attention back to the strewn figure on the sofa, twisting a lock of deep red hair nimbly between long fingers. His dead silver eyes, a cold grey that sucked any warmth from his face, surveyed her dispassionately.

"I'm surprised she's still here, you usually clean up after yourself," Lucius glanced up, "Or perhaps you simply ran out of time…you must be busy after all."

The comment was light, and seemingly innocent, but Draco tensed as if struck, the truth remaining hidden in plain sight, like a serpent in long grass.

"I just hadn't got round to it yet," he replied stiffly, watching with an deep gaze as his father moved slowly, yet at the same time swiftly; a paradox within itself, towards one of the armchairs, seating himself as if upon a throne. He waited patiently as the man inspected the worn and cracked leather before settling down.

Lucius appeared to almost hum to himself as he did so, gently removing a platinum white lock of hair to adjust it from the side of his face.

"Somehow Draco, I don't believe you. Oh, you're not lying to me" he added, upon seeing his son's face move to interject, "you know better than that…but you're not being completely honest with me either…And you know why I'm here. I just want to know how you're doing, that's all."

Draco refrained from shivering, his dead heart forcibly restrained from giving his fear away, despite its furious insistence to beat as harshly as it desired. The look Lucius pinned him with was full of shadows and dark secrets, and most terrible of all, an instinctual knowing that left him as trapped as a mouse in a maze. He wanted nothing more than to turn around and flee. To get away from that unnerving stare that rocked all his doubts and worries to the surface, washing all his power and confidence away till he was nothing more than a vulnerable boy once again, who was powerless to do anything at all.

Instead, however, he merely swallowed, his deepest thoughts and desired hidden and cloistered away behind steely iron walls. He could deal with this; he'd done it before. Lucius would be gone as soon as he came. Just a little patience.

However, what caused him to mentally sweat was the knowledge that sooner or later his darling little charmant would be pulled back to him, like a slingshot of a rubber ball. And if Lucius were still here, things would descend rapidly into a dire direction.

His father didn't take well to those outside the family.

Or surprises.

"So, are you going to tell your concerned father what you've been up to, hmm?"

Draco moved to enter further into the room himself, using the dead form of Ginny Weasley to momentarily distract him, if only for a moment. So far, his father seemed to be in one of his good moods, and he'd hate to spoil it with just a single, ill worded response. Speaking with Lucius was always an exercise in well-structured, well-practiced conversations.

"Nothing much, it's all really the same. I don't know why you feel the need to check on me so, I'm quite fine as it is," he finally spoke absently, turning casually to his father.

Or so he hoped.

"Hmm," Lucius tilted his head, using that stare of his again, seeming to look into him, through and beyond. For all Draco knew, he was.

"Nothing different from usual you say?"

Draco nodded listlessly, hoping his calm would pass onto his father, soothing his psyche like cool water.

"So no new…friends?"

Draco felt something twist in his chest, and no force could prevent his sharp, lightning reply, "Friends?"

Lucius was peering at him unreadably, though his face held something of a satisfied smirk upon it, weaving his face together.

And as he trapped the younger in his keen gaze, Draco couldn't help but compare him to an angered viper, flashing its fangs before an unavoidable strike.

"Why yes Draco, new friends. Or maybe just one in particular…" he trailed off, his lilting voice chilling the room. The man appeared somewhat disinterested with the conversation, as if it held no meaning to him, but Draco had learnt from that past that this simply indicated that his father was less stable than usual, and was most angry.

Which did not bode well for him, but worst of all for Harry.

As Draco met that man's cool gaze, he could only hope that Severus would hold him up.

Harry burst through the door, unheeding to the chirping calls of Hermione that echoed behind him. He snuck looks through the dark night, wary of any of the Death Eaters that were undoubtedly still roaming about, eager to sink themselves into him once again. Their presence, now that he thought about it, would be quite a hindrance in his journey back to the house, and to Draco.

He only had a few more bullets left inside the barrel of the gun, placed safely inside his waistband, and he wasn't sure if he could outrun them if it came down to it. After all, even if he managed to reach the house, they wouldn't stop their chase, and Draco had the rage-inducing habit of being conspicuously hard to find. Even if he did have a houseguest.

So he was forced to remain in the shadow of the door, ideas running through his head nearly as quickly as he discarded them, frustration pumping through him like he breathed it, mounting ever higher as he could find no definite solution to his plight.

The intense need to return to his sire was becoming almost painful in its intensity, gnawing away at his insides. His skin was itchy and he had trouble keeping his legs still as they began to jitter in impatience.

He scowled. He was a vampire for fuck's sake! He should not be impeded by a few mere spirits! Neither Draco nor Severus seemed bothered by them, and it was galling to still need assistance now that he was no longer human. He was a vampire just the same as them.

He growled under his breath, a faint idea coming to him from the depths of his consciousness. Mulling it over, he quickly decided to at least try it, knowing -or rather hoping-that it wouldn't hurt. He backed into the shadow of the door further, still keeping a wary eye on the street.

He'd seen Draco do this plenty of times. It couldn't be that hard, now could it? Even the Death Eaters appeared able to perform something of the like. Just use a shadow to hop into another one. Simple.

Of course, he wasn't exactly sure how he was going to even start to go about it, but he was determined, his green eyes set in a steely glint.

After all, how fucking hard could it be?

He backed into the shadow's grasp, heart hammering and desperately hiding the disappointment that it hadn't been as simple as just 'think where you want to go and get there'. Nothing was ever quite that easy.

He scowled.

He decided to try to focus trying to sense…something, be it from the shadow, or even himself, willing himself to concentrate on simply moving…but without moving.

…Argh!

Fuck, that didn't even make sense, he thought with a contorted frown. Suffice to say, his attempt yielded nothing at all, except increased annoyance. He didn't have the time to just hang around!

He grit his teeth and attempted to focus more internally. Perhaps, if he had an image fixed in his mind of where he wanted to go? Or some sort of force, or something.

Sighing, Harry closed his eyes, and pushed himself as far back to the shadow encroached wall as possible, backing up to the brick, trying to keep in mind with all his might the image of his destination, fuelled by his aching desire to get back to Draco. His cooled, lukewarm body began to heat- if he were human he would have been sweating, teeth grit in consternation as nothing seemed to happen.

On and on, the seconds stretching into forever, he was just about to give up with a shout of frustration when he fleet something ripple over his skin, not entirely pleasantly. It felt more like ice-cold needles prickling across him to be honest, but he didn't dare move, or even open his eyes, just in case it broke the sudden circumstance.

So lost was he in the strange sensation wrapping him up in a decidedly very uncomfortable blanket, that he didn't initially realise that he was, slowly at first, but then faster, blending in to the darkness around him, his form whisping away and out of sight.

Only when he felt his limbs chill to freezing did his eyes snap open just in time to witness the view of the street disappearing in a whirling flash, replaced instead with a swathe of sheer blackness. He could neither hear, nor feel a thing, and for a terrifying moment he panicked, afraid he would be stuck in an endless limbo. But nearly as soon as it'd come, the darkness obscuring his eyes began to recede.

And, gasping, he fell to the ground, dust and dried mud clinging to him, his chest aching slightly from the compression.

Dimly, from somewhere above he heard the flutter and coo of wood pigeons.

Looking up, he let out a breath; amazed to see himself kneeling in the entrance hall of the manor, vine ridden stairway, dirtied marble floor and all. He blinked in dazed relief.

Glancing behind him, he surmised that he'd travelled through the shadow cast by one of the huge wooden doors to the outside gardens. And he'd just, only moments ago, been at Severus's.

Feeling momentarily elated with his success, he scrambled to his feet, a laugh threatening to bubble to the surface. However, before it could be released he felt a menacing chill choke it before it could begin, as it raced up his spine to settle at the back of his neck.

Instantly the foreboding sensation in his stomach returned, and he was refilled with a sudden urgency to find Draco. And as fast as possible, luck willing. Something wasn't right, even more so than he had first thought earlier that evening. It was a cloying sensation, that made his chest tight for breath, even though breathing was a mortal function that he could do without. The walls seemed oddly closer around him, even in the vast entrance hall than they had before and he immediately began to move away.

Without much thought, he instantly made his way across the entrance hall and through a doorway on the right, at a brisk pace with purpose, as if led by some sort of irresistible pull. He paid it little mind as he finally came to a halt beside the door that led to the living room he'd been seated in not a few hours before; where he knew Ginny's body to lie.

He paused on the threshold, unknowing really as to why, the tight feeling rising to a crescendo within him, his throat closed up and his mouth dry. It was then that a silky voice, laden with cold amusement rang out.

"Ah, there he is now. Won't you introduce me Draco?"

As the door seemingly swung open all by itself, revealing him completely to the room's inhabitants, Harry caught the distinct impression that he shouldn't have come after all.

A/N: So, Lucius is finally here, and i hate to leave you all on such a nasty cliffie after so long, but there really was no good place to end this chapter in the coming scene. After all, things are about to get sticky!

Next chapter should not be such a long wait at all, rather a normal update time, and despite my absence of late, i would really like to hear from all of you in the reviews. And yes, i am well aware i'm a bad, bad author for having such a slow update. Apart from that, i hope you enjoyed the chapter!