Author's Note: Oh hey guys. I'm trying to update regularly as you probably know. So, here's chapter four. Enjoy.

Chapter Four

"Malfoy?" Harry stared incredulously at the blond in front of him. It couldn't be true. His mate couldn't possibly be Malfoy. Harry's eyes closed, and he was glad he couldn't cry. He was going to be miserable for all of eternity because there was no way in fucking hell Malfoy would ever let Harry near him Malfoy smelled so damn good, and he could still taste him. Harry blushed as he felt his body betray him. His pants were getting rather tight. When he dared open his eyes again, Malfoy's face was crimson as well, but only out of fury.

"Who the hell did you think it was? Or were you even thinking anything? Did you just lunge at the first person who walked by without even looking? I guess I shouldn't have expected any better from you. You probably think the whole world wants you just because you're the Chosen One." Harry sputtered at Malfoy's words, starting to feel slightly angry himself.

"I don't think that! You know I don't give a good god damn about that whole 'Chosen One' thing."

"Sure you don't." A sneer was still twitching on his lipson his face. For the first time, Harry noticed what Malfoy was wearing. He had been too busy staring at his face to even notice the absolutely perfect clothes sculpted to Malfoy's body just to – Harry felt – tease him. And upon noticing, Harry's pants seemed to tighten even more. Venom rushed to his throat, and he nervously scratched the wall behind him. It was as if Malfoy had dressed like this to taunt him. He wore tight, dark jeans and a black shirt, the first few buttons undone. Harry couldn't help but notice all the little, little details suddenly. He was handsomely dressed, and even his nails were cut neatly. The only thing out of place was his hair, only recently ruffled by yours truly.

"I - I -" Before Harry could even form a thought, another two people came into view.

"Dray? There's no need to run ahead." As she came closer, Pansy Parkinson's face came into view. Her mouth dropped open and her lips curled into a sneer similar to Malfoy's. Zabini and Nott appeared beside her, followed by some girl who looked rather familiar. "Potter what are you doing here?" Malfoy's hand reached to his hair, and he smoothed it down quickly.

"I wasn't aware that Slytherins owned Knockturn Alley," Harry shot back, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. His hand reached to his front pocket, and he pulled out his wand, holding it loosely in his hands for the chance anything should happen.

"Own? No. I just didn't think the Golden Boy would want to spend his time here," Zabini added, his arm winding around Parkinson's waist.

"I'm starting to wonder why I saved your sorry arses," Harry said, starting to sneer himself.

"Saved our sorry arses? Please..." It came from Malfoy this time. The blond's eyes were just as cold and unforgiving, and Harry almost wished there was some sort of kind of elation hidden in there. Why did he have to be his mate of all people! A married, straight guy would have been less of a challenge.

"Funny, you didn't seem so full of it in the Room of Requirement," Harry muttered darkly. Malfoy's face tinged pink at the memory, and Harry's sneer lightened. Malfoy looked cute when he was embarrassed. Wait, Malfoy, cute? Harry shook his head with a heavy sigh. As the blond tucked his head down, a few strands of hair fell into his face, and Harry chuckled. As soon as the sound escaped his lips, however, he looked mortified. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice, and Parkinson merely rolled her eyes and began walking on, her arm now curling protectively over Nott as well.

"Come on, Dray, no need to waste time on a silly half-blood, even if he is the Chosen One." Draco looked up, his face rearranged into a sneer again, and his eyes narrowed. With that, he sauntered off, leaving Harry to stare after him. The moment the blond was out of view, however, Harry crumpled back against the wall.

"Fuck!" His hands clenched angrily, and he kicked at the dirt, creating a surprisingly large hole. This was just going to be miserable. Harry whimpered, and slid down. Malfoy - of all people. It could have been anyone in the whole fucking world, but it had to be that blond prat. It wasn't that Harry hadn't noticed that he was attractive before. The git was now a model, even. But that didn't make up for the fact that Harry's chances with him were smaller than the chances of Moaning Myrtle to stop complaining.

Harry sighed; he could still feel Draco's silky hair against his fingers. That memory would have to suffice. For now, at least. Harry had no clue how he was going to get another chance to do anything with the blond. Draco was sure to be wary if he ever saw him again. He wouldn't be surprised if he saw a restraining order waiting for him when he got home. Harry pulled himself up, and began to walk toward Diagon Alley, shoulders hunched forward.

The streets were still crowded and filled with cheery faces. It felt wrong that others could be so happy while his world crumbled around him. And Malfoy wasn't even his biggest problem. What was he going to do if Hermione didn't find some sort of cure? He couldn't show up as a vampire to work. Harry Potter or not, wizarding law demanded he be staked. He shuddered at the thought. How many times had he captured vampires without a single guilty thought? He had always thought of them as monsters, but now that he was one, they seemed more human than ever.

Pulling out his wand, he Apparated right outside the ward of his house, staggering a little upon landing. It was still a nice night, and he spread out on the lawn, staring up at the sky. Of course the first constellation his eyes would set on would be Draco. Harry fiddled with a piece of grass. He hadn't really thought about Malfoy too much, but the blond was certainly fit. He was all over the magazines. Malfoy had done a few shoots Harry could remember. There was that one where he had posed with the new Firebolt model. He had been wearing full Quidditch gear, but Merlin, he made it look attractive. And then there was that other one where he was wearing only jeans. He had been curled up, looking so vulnerable and gorgeous.

Harry shook his head and groaned. This was turning out to be worse than he had thought possible. If Malfoy weren't his mate, he wouldn't even remember those things. He had been perfectly happy living in separate bubbles. They hadn't talked a single time since the battle. Who would have thought this was the way they were going to be thrown together? Well, not thrown together. What was it even supposed to be called?

"Fuck," Harry muttered again. "Malfoy's my mate." Saying it aloud, Harry decided, didn't make it sound any less absurd or realistic. He barked madly, and hit head backward into the ground, only causing a slight indent into the dirt. "This is brilliant! I'm a vampire and Malfoy's my mate. Care to throw anything else at me?" His glare was aimed upward at the sky. There were only cricket chirps in response. "I'm sure you'll find something else up your sleeve soon enough," he mumbled darkly.

It wasn't long before Harry began to feel like his teeth were aching. And his stomach felt surprisingly empty. Still, stubbornly, he refused to get up. He wasn't going to let his need for blood rule him. Or, he would try his best not to, at least. He'd just have to think of something distracting. Something like Ron or Hermione or Malfoy. Malfoy. Shit. It was all one vicious circle, wasn't it?

But thinking about the blond git couldn't be any worse than thinking about blood lust, could it? As if to confirm, there was a sudden jolt of pain to his teeth. Harry gasped and reached up, pulling at them, whimpering. He could use a nice human about now. Except, that was all wrong. He wouldn't let it eat at him. He wouldn't! He'd just have to force himself to think of Malfoy. Apparently, nothing else would do it for him.

Closing his eyes, he tried to visualise Malfoy. Harry could picture him blushing - how adorable he had looked. The red had just spread to his neck and across his face. And then his bangs had flopped down. He had just looked so...shaggable.

"Merlin, this is a mess." He read Malfoy's face darkened in his mind, and suddenly the adorable qualities vanished until they was only red trickling down his neck. Harry moaned as he imagined licking at it, and pressing against him, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him closer. Malfoy would give him a half-hearted smirk, and nuzzle backward, intoxicated by the venom. Harry felt his cock twitch as he imagined Malfoy's responses when he would start nibbling, lapping, pulling his fingers through that hair.

It would be wonderful. It would be perfect...

HDHDHDHDHDHD

"Harry, get up!"

"Five more minutes," Harry mumbled, nestling his head into the grass. He had been having the most wonderful dream, and Hermione had interrupted. The specifics were starting to slip away, but he could clearly remember it involved a certain blond barely wearing any clothes. A grin formed across his face and he started to feel drowsy again. But two pairs of hands mercilessly grabbed him and pulled him to his feet. When he opened his eyes, Ron and Hermione were glaring at him. They began to drag him to the door, and he pulled himself out of their rough grips. "Lemme go. I was just taking a nap. No need to get so angry 'bout it."

"Harry, you were outside! If Ron and I hadn't had come, you would've died." Harry blinked rapidly, and his head cleared.

"What?"

"Merlin, he can't honestly be that thick..." Hermione threw her hands up and walked inside. Ron shook his head too, looking more shaken than angry.

"The sun? It comes out in three hours." As realisation began to spread, Harry's stare turned wide-eyed and frightened.

"I wasn't thinking. I -" He didn't know what to say, and just threw his arms around his friend. The smell of blood immediately overwhelmed all senses. It was so close. Harry could feel the pulse against his face. Ron felt so warm, and smelled so good. Before he could help himself, Harry stuck his tongue out, tasting Ron's skin. Merlin, it was delicious. He could instantly feel the fear spike, his heart speed up. It was so tempting. He opened his mouth, and -

Two hands pushed back roughly against him, and magic glued his arms to his sides and his legs together. Harry growled, falling to the ground and squirming. His eyes were narrowed, and he tried pulling himself forward. "Just a little taste, Ron." The ginger backed away, stuttering Hermione's name. "Come back!"

Hermione rushed out and gasped. Harry was writhing on the ground, his face contorted with an animalistic hunger. She was holding an empty glass in her hand. And barely glanced down at it before using her wand to create a small cut in her arm. As soon as she had deemed it to be enough blood, she let go of the glass, letting it levitate. Her hand fumbled with her wand, and she swayed slightly, but managed to close the wound.

"'Mione, what are you doing?" Ron rushed over, pulling out a vial. "I didn't think I even need this..." He shoved the blood-replenishing potion down his girlfriend's throat, oblivious to Harry's desperate attempts to pull himself over. With fresh blood so close to his reach, he struggled against the magical ties. It was there; he could smell it! Oh, Gods, what it would taste like...

Hermione proceeded to levitate the glass over to Harry, who crashed into it the moment it was in reach. Lapping as the blood spilled into him, covering his face. His licking and growling lessened, and eventually he stilled on the ground. Ron's face contorted into a look of upmost revulsion. Crickets chirped around them, but the night was otherwise sound for a moment.

"I'm sorry," Harry croaked. Ron's arms protectively had wrapped around Hermione. Neither of them said a word, and didn't acknowledge Harry's apology other than by staring at him missing there. The bonds eventually fell, and Harry pulled himself up, wincing as Hermione's eyes flickered with further fear.

"Your face..." she started, but abruptly cut off. A mixture of shame and confusion crossed Harry's face.

"Blood," Ron said. Harry pulled his arm up, wiping the sleeve across his mouth and wincing when it pulled back, soaked in red. He walked past his friends, and entered his house, plopping down immediately in a living room chair. After a moment or two, Ron and Hermione followed, both still reluctant. They sat down on the couch, and Harry noticed how Ron's hand reached out to steady Hermione's when it started shaking. He glanced away, and closed his eyes. The pain in his stomach had nothing to do with hunger. It was only out of revulsion.

"I'm a monster," Harry finally said. "Maybe I should just let Kingsley stake me before I actually hurt anyone."

"Don't say that, Harry," Hermione said, her voice uneven, yet comforting. "I'm trying to find something. That's actually why we came here. I actually found a reference to something." She cleared her throat before quickly adding, "It's obscure. But it means that there's a chance." Harry nodded.

"A potion?"

"Actually," Ron said, "a ritual. That's all the book mentioned."

"It said, 'Vampires only hope to redeem their souls lays in an ancient ritual,' and then it just moved on, like it was nothing important." Hermione sounded irritated. "I spent all day reading, today. Nothing else. No other reference." She sighed. "But we'll find it. It has to be written somewhere." Harry nodded again, and Hermione sighed. "I promise you we'll do it. We could defeat Voldemort. We can't let this stop us. We never gave up." Although Harry could feel her fear, the tiniest smile finally blossomed on his face.

"I know you'll find it, Hermione. I'm just worried that I'll do something rash beforehand."

"Like kill your mate?" Hermione asked. Harry was sure she only had the best of intentions, but he froze despite that at the sheer casual manner she mentioned it in. Malfoy - how would they react when he told them? "Harry?"

"Wait, do you know who your mate is?" Ron asked, excited. "Do we know him?" When he saw the painful look on Harry's face his faltered. "Her?" Harry shook his head.

"Straight, then?" Harry shrugged.

"Probably." There was a pause before Hermione repeated Ron's question. "Do we know him?" Harry looked uncertain, and then nodded a second time.

"Who?" Harry hesitated, looking frightened and reluctant to tell them.

"Malfoy." Silence struck the room. Hermione simply sat with her mouth wide open, and Ron looked as if he couldn't decide between horrified and shocked.

"Malfoy, you're joking, right?" the ginger finally squeaked.

"Do you honestly think I'd joke about something like that?"

"But Malfoy can't be your mate. You can't know that for sure. I mean, until you meet them after being turned. Plus, that's just absurd. It can't possibly be true.." His babblings finally ceased, and he stared at Harry with saucer-like eyes.

"I ran into him tonight when I was walking."

"You ran into him? And nothing happened?" Hermione sounded sceptical. "You'd have lost control if it really had been your mate..."

"Does shoving him against a wall and snogging him senseless sound enough like losing control to you?"

"You snogged Malfoy?"

"I didn't even know it was him. I just ran into him, and he was there. He smelled so good, and he - he just tasted so good." He looked up to see Ron's face turn green.

"I think I've got the picture. Sweet Godric, but Malfoy? It had to be the blond arse." Harry felt a surge of anger course threw him upon hearing Ron's insult. It wasn't that Harry disagreed. Malfoy had a nice arse. No, no, no, was an arse. But Ron didn't have the right to talk about his mate that way. He went to pull out his wand, but Hermione was quicker.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry's wand flew back, hitting the wall and bouncing off to the ground. "How thick can you be, Ron? You can't insult his mate." She gave him a disproving glare, and then smiled the best she could at Harry. It looked rather painful.

Harry groaned, and looked away, ashamed. He had stood against Ron for Malfoy. It was appalling. That blond git would be the death of him. "He's rather..." Hermione continued, but couldn't seem to think of a compliment. She just gave up, her shoulders tilting forward in defeat. "You'll be rid of this all soon enough."

"I sincerely hope so, Hermione."

Don't fret; Draco will come back in chapter six again. So, what did you think?