Author's Note: So, I finished the next chapter for Seasons of Love if you're a fan of that as well. I just need to get it edited, reply to those reviews, and it'll be up. In any case, it's time to get this fanfic on its true path. So, here's chapter three.

Chapter Three

Harry whimpered as he pressed his head into a pillow. He had spent much of last night pacing back and forth around his house. At some point where logic momentarily overtook fear, he had cast a spell to block out his windows, cover them completely. No sun could seep in, even during the day. Then fear had taken over again, and until five, he curled up against his bed, tossing and turning. Even without seeing the sun, he knew it had to have been rising because as time progressed, he could barely keep his eyes open. Again, he lapsed into dreamless sleep.

It was only when the sun had perished and the moon blossomed in silver in the night sky that his eyes opened again.

The pain of his insatiable thirst was more than he ever could have imagined. Every part of his body screamed for blood. His dry throat burned with every breath. He quivered at the effort not tojust storm out of his house and grab the closest person. All he had to do was leave the house and it would be a buffet. But other than the monster within him, he knew that was the last thing he wanted. Still, as he pulled back, staring at his living room, he noticed now unusually red the wilting rose in his room was.

Before he could help himself, he had sat up, dragging his finger down the silk-soft, still red part of the flower. All he had to do was bite down on one neck. It couldn't be that bad, could it? It was just one life, nothing more. And he didn't even have to kill that person. All he would do is drink a little bit of their blood. He sharply inhaled and licked his lips crimson of the rose seemed loom with the sensual colour in a dull room of grey.

There was a sharp tap on the window and Harry jumped, pulled out of his thoughts. A brown owl stood at his windowsill, holding a letter in his beak, a small package tied around its leg. Harry hastily opened the window, stiffening as the smell of blood overwhelmed him. It wasn't as appetizing as Ron or Hermione's had been, but it was, after all, just an owl. The owl hooted softly and dropped the letter down on the couch.

As Harry slowly untied the package, he swore the owllooked at him fearfully. It seemed to furrow its feathers, and although he couldn't be sure, there seemed to be alarm in its black , it was hard to decipher any emotions in the black depths. As soon as the string fell from its foot, along with the package, the owl shot out of the window, and Harry closed it behind him. His hands shakily ripped open the envelope of the letter. A postcard of Egypt fell to the ground. Harry swooped down to pick it up, only to discover that it was blank. His nose crinkled and he stared at it in confusion.

When he unfolded the paper, he immediately recognized the neat handwriting to be Hermione's.

Dear Harry,

I sorry about leaving so abruptly yesterday. I have to admit that I was shocked and I still am. I'm determined to find this vampire, although I'm not sure how I'm going to alert the Ministry of him without giving away that you're a vampire. Which brings me to my next topic, I don't plan to tell anyone about your situation. Well, other than Luna. Before you start to overreact, as I'm sure you will, just hear me out. I completely forgot – don't know how! – about inviting her over for dinner. We hadn't seen each other while. She immediately knew something was wrong, and she vowed not to tell Ginny, Rolf, or anyone. I told her of your condition, and she was very understanding. She mentioned a few cures that she knew of, but I wouldn't get your hopes up. She mentioned Dirigible Plums having multiple uses among other things. In any case, I wouldn't fret too much about it. I've started looking at books.

It's fascinating the things I've already learned about vampires. I didn't know that the reason garlic hurts to breathe in so much has to do with how sensitive vampires are. They can smell everything around them, and sometimes things that have stronger smells tend to burn. Due to garlic's overpowering 'stench,' a vampire can't stand it! They also can't be around onions and rosemary. Oh, and funnily enough, they can't stand steaks either because cooked meat sickens them.

I'm determined to find some sort of cure for you, Harry. I won't stop until I do. And as for your job, I've told Kingsley that you're going on vacation, but I think he doesn't believe me. Enclosed I've sent a postcard from Egypt. I'd write something brief on it and send it to him. It's a little suspicious for me to say you've suddenly gone on vacation. In any case, I told him that you needed a little rest and that since now you didn't have a major case to work on, you thought it was perfect timing for that sort of a thing.

Just take care of yourself, Harry. Don't do anything rash. Oh, and open the package. It's a gift from Luna.

Love,

Hermione

As Harry set down the letter, he looked down at the package with worry written across his face. Luna would never mean to cause him harm, but the girl was so eccentric, who knew what she had sent him. As the new editor of the Quibbler, it was sure to contain the latest thing she thought could cure him. But as he broke through the seal, before he even saw it, he knew what it was. The smell hit him hard, and he tore it open to reveal a small, carefully sealed bag containing blood. There were a few other things in there and a small note. Anxiously running his tongue along the edge of his teeth, Harry read it.

Harry,

I thought this may be useful. Don't worry about me. It's easy to make a blood replenishing potion. In fact, I packed you several inside. You'll need it when you go out tonight. I know you're going to hate being bottled up, so I've given you just a bit of my blood. It should ease your thirst long enough for you not to have to urge to kill everyone you walk past. Cheers!

Luna

P.S. The other package contains contacts and a set of glasses with plain glass. It would be slightly obvious if you wandered around with red eyes.

Harry smiled, and could wait no longer. He sunk his teeth into the thick, plastic wrapping, tearing small holes into the bag. As the liquid spilled into his mouth, Harry swore he had never tasted anything so delicious. Every single taste bud seemed to be lit on fire, overwhelmed with taste. The metallic taste blended together with something lighter, something so...Luna-ish. It was impossible to describe, but was a bit like copper coins mixed with moaned, squeezing the bag and licking the last remaining drops. His throat didn't hurt as much, and he could suddenly think clearly.

Harry finally stopped lapping at the empty bag and set it down on the table. He felt unexpectedly stronger,better. In fact, he was sure he wanted to go out tonight. He just had to maintain a low profile. But first, he grabbed a quill, scribbling on the back of the postcard: "I needed a break. Thanks for accepting the short notice. The pyramids are truly beautiful. Tell the other Aurors I'm sorry for disappearing, but I'm sure they'll do perfectly fine without me. Harry" It was personal, yet brief enough to seem like he had written it pressed for time. Harry smiled, and at that exact moment, the owl tapped at the window again as if it knew he needed to mail something.

Attaching the postcard to the owl, Harry grinned. The owl's feathers puffed up a little, and he immediately took off. Harry bounced over to the bathroom, contacts and contact solution in hand, wondering how he could've been so depressed and angry only minutes ago. Blood truly did work miracles on a starved vampire. Grinning, he stopped in front of the mirror, and the smile slid off of his face. How was he supposed to put these contacts in if he couldn't even see himself?This was ridiculous. They looked hard enough to put in while looking at yourself – it seemed like poking your eye repetitively.

Unceremoniously, he put the right one in his hand and tipped the contact solution bottle over. Liquid poured into the cup of his hand and he rubbed the contact around. After deeming it cleansed enough – he had only seen people do this after all – he placed it on the tip of his finger and moved it toward his eye. And blinked. Dammit.

It took thirty minutes of persistent eye poking for the right one to finally stick. It felt weird, and he blinked rapidly several times before closing his left eye and looking around the room. He smiled when everything was fully in focus. Now he only had the left eye to do.

After another twenty minutes, he was looking around the room beaming, wishing someone was there to applaud him. He felt as if someone should have been there to witness that. It had been as hard as it was for Neville to remember a Gryffindor he was proud. His eyes were a little uncomfortable from all of the prodding, but it would be worth it. He was sure he looked just like the average Harry. No one would be suspicious when he went to –

Where did he want to go to? A pub sounded nice right about now. If he couldn't have blood, some wine would at least be luckily enough, the Muggle drink was currently possible among witches and wizards. Most places did serve it. Doing a little happy dance, he strutted back to the living room and put on the other pair of glasses Luna had sent.

He wished he could see what he looked like. It struck him as an impossibility – he'd never see himself again. It wasn't that he was particularly fond of seeing himself, but it was just something he was used to. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed and plopped down on the couch. It was no use to worry about it, and quickly his mind wandered back to where he was going out.

There were pubs around Diagon Alley. A few extended into the very edges of Knockturn Alley. He was sure to find some place he wanted to go to. Now he only had to choose what to wear. There was a strange bubbling feeling inside of him. He had never been great in Divination, but he just knewsomehow that something good was going to happen. He felt ridiculously lucky. Finally, he settled for a pair of black low-riding jeans and a wine-coloured, button-down shirt. He hadn't really worn it before. It had always seemed too formal, but now that he looked down at himself, he saw how tight it was, outlining his body. Some guy was bound to notice, right?

With that final though, he walked out of the house, just outside of the limits of the Apparation charms, but still obscured from view from any Muggles. With a loud crack, he disappeared.

Diagon Alley was lively, especially for a Monday night. People walked in groups, chatting animatedly. The lights from the open bars and restaurants as well as the street lamps cast a fire-like glow. Even alone, Harry felt at ease. He just hoped no one came up to him, gawking and trying to start a conversation. Those sort of things usually started with some girl or kid calling him her hero and mentioning that they had a poster of him in her room. How the hell was he supposed to respond to that, anyway?

He pulled through a crowd and walked into the nearest pub. The rhythmic pulsing of techno music hummed behind a slur of people's voices. It wasn't as filled as the one yesterday had been, and he made his way easily to the bar. The lady working behind the counter walked over and gave a tired smile. "What can I get you, dear?"

"I'll have a glass of red wine."

"We have a bottle of Tinto Fino. Would that work?" Harry nodded and smiled, his eyes turning to look around the room. There were no especially attractive men in site. There was one with a tan-blond hair a few feet away who was decent, but he was dancing with some girl, anyway.

The lady behind the bar walked up and placed the glass down on the counter. Harry smiled and slid over a Galleon. "Keep the change." Her smile widened, and she suddenly seemed to recognise him.

"You're Harry Potter." Harry's smile became slightly tense.

"Indeed I am."

"Rumour has it you're single."

"Well, you must have heard wrong, then," he snapped back somewhat angrily. It couldn't have been a guy who had heard that rumour. A countless number of girls had said that to him since the war ended. It was always girls.

"Oh, well, I mean, tabloids, huh? Can't trust them." Her face fell, and Harry sighed. This wasn't the way he wanted the night to go.

"Sorry, yeah, they tend to make things up." He took a sip of the wine, and he immediately relaxed. It had strong flavours of dark berries and spice, as well as a touch of smoke. And even though it wasn't blood, it still tasted absolutely amazing. Before he could help himself, he let out a small sigh of happiness. It was only when he set the glass on the counter with a small click that he opened his eyes again. The girl was still standing there, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Merlin, you really like wine, don't you?"

"Wha –" Harry blushed, and pulled his hand through his hair. "Erm, yeah." He waited for the girl to leave, but she just stood there, staring at him. It was becoming increasingly more uncomfortable. If she would say something at least...

"Are you going to take another sip?" she asked, too eagerly for Harry's taste. In response, he took another gulp, careful to keep curb his expressions. She pouted, but still waited as if he would suddenly decide to put on a show of some sort.

"I have to go," Harry muttered, more to himself than to the girl. With a final giant gulp, he drank the rest of the wine and got up, suddenly thinking that this wasn't exactly quite the brilliant idea he had thought it would be. He had been so sure it would have been a good night, but there wasn't even any attractive, single guy in site. Pulling himself by several dancing couples, he pushed open the doors and sighed.

Harry suddenly felt a tug. It was as if someone was pulling him forward. His heart seemed to buzz with electricity, and every part of him tingled. There was someone near. Someone important. And Harry was willing to bet his second life that it was his mate.

If his heart had still been beating, he was sure it would have drummed a syncopated rhythm by now. Harry pulled his way through crowds, and his smile increased as he felt himself get nearer. Merlin, whoever it was, they were close. He didn't even seem to notice when he started pulling into Knockturn Alley. The tugging led him like a compass, and with each step, the tingling in his body increased. By now he was practically running. They were somewhere just beyond this corner. He could feel it. Turning he –

Harry ran straight into someone. And not just anyone. His blood boiled, and he reached out his lips pressed against their neck. His tongue eagerly lapped at it, and underneath, he could feel their heartbeat echo into his body. Oh, Gods, he just felt so good. Harry reached out, warm, and ran his fingers through the person's hair. It was silky. Harry smiled into his mate's neck, and his hand reached lower, cupping the man's face. Every part of him hummed. Whoever it was, he was wearing cologne that smelled like pomegranates. And beneath that, his natural scent – he smelled amazing. Just from tasting his sweet skin Harry knew he'd taste thousands of times better than Luna. There was the urge to bite him, just to taste. Harry moaned at the thought. Was it even possible to resist. His teeth began to extend.

Two hands roughly pushed back, and Harry hit the opposite wall of the alley. Harry looked directly into cold, grey eyes. He knew those eyes. That platinum hair. That sneer.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Potter?"

Malfoy.

You know where the button is.