Author's Note: Here you go. Have an update. Also, in exciting news, my first day of senior year was today. Whoo!
Chapter Seven
Harry awoke feeling normal. Hell, he could almost forget the bloodlust. Almost. It wasn't noticeable unless he thought about it. He felt strong for once. With ease and energy he pulled himself from his bed and sprung up into action. His bounds across the room were unusually springy and he felt light.
There was no use in worrying about what had happened with Malfoy. In fact, it was the best thing that had happened to him since being bitten. Harry decided he might as well enjoy it while he could.
Actually, he felt like celebrating. It sounded like clubbing would be fun, and it had been a while since he had gone with just Ron and Hermione. Harry cheerfully walked over to the bathroom. He almost didn't notice his lack of reflection in the mirror, but rather popped in his contacts with ease, humming some made-up melody.
His clothes were more difficult to deal with, though. Harry spent a good deal looking through his closet and sighing. He really hadn't had time to go looking for clothes. He bought what was available and comfortable, as well as in the first line of racks. So, when he found an old pine-coloured button-up, he couldn't help but smile. It would work well with the dark jeans he had picked out.
These thoughts froze in their tracks as Harry shrunk a little. A blush would have accompanied the gesture as well had it been at all possible. He felt oddly flamboyant. He was more of a throw-whatever-on kind of guy. The messy hair had always been the final touch.
But he just felt so damn bubbly. It was as if this was some sort of special occasion. And it kind of was. It screamed, "Congrats on not killing anyone and acting decently normal." Well, something like that, anyway... Harry entertained himself with the thought of some such award being given to him. Of course, it was just a silly, little thought.
It was finally when Harry leaped into the fireplace, Floo powder sifting through his fingers, that Harry took a calming breath. When the warmth and movement halted, he looked up to find Ron jumping up and yelling. "Blimey Harry, you scared me!" Harry stepped out and merely grinned. "It's a good thing we cleaned out all the garlic earlier today," Ron added, strolling across the room and falling lazily back on a couch. "'Mione thought you might pop by."
"I didn't really think of that. Guess it's good she did. She really thinks of everything, doesn't she?" Harry asked, carefully sitting down on a nearby sofa.
"She tries to," Hermione said from the doorframe. "Ready to go clubbing, are you?"
"I can see you are." Hermione wore a simple short dress, and silver earrings dangled from her ears, the leaf patterns glinting from the room's lighting.
"Well, we guessed you would come." She laughed as she looked at Ron. "I see you made a noble attempt to fix your shirt." Ron mumbled something, but Hermione only interrupted him. "Let me do this." She lifted her wand, and all the wrinkles in Ron's shirt disappeared. His open mouth transformed into a grin, and he got up to hug Hermione.
"You really have a spell for everything." As their lips slightly brushed together, Harry couldn't help but feel slightly jealous. Their relationship was so simple. They always had potential to be together, all it took was a little push and a few years to realise it, and they had set off. As for any potential with Draco...
Harry shook his head and smiled. Malfoy was willing to help him, and for now that was all that mattered. It was more than he had expected a few days ago. It would just have to do.
"Impatient, Harry? I'm glad to finally see you in a good mood. I think Ron might have gone insane if he had to listen to another moment about Mal –" She cut off and gave a high-pitched, false laugh. "Well, anyway."
They set off and Apparated into a London street. Harry was unfamiliar with where they were, but he was sure the pub was going to be fine. When he turned around, he immediately saw where they were going. The red neon lights flashed, and a line curved around the corner of the building. It certainly looked impressive and popular.
"Vogue, London's new hotspot, complete with a coconut Firewhiskey waterfall and the finest show of night time dancers. Great dance music and unlimited alcohol for only ten Galleons," Hermione recited as if the magazine lay splayed out in front of her. Some things never changed. Whether it was a textbook or a magazine, Hermione was sure to know it word-for-word. Harry couldn't help but smile. Ron, on the other hand, rubbed his temples and sighed.
"'Mione, it's okay if you don't memorise everything. You know that, right?" Hermione playfully glared at him before skipping off to the end of the line. It was, unfortunately, fairly long, although much quicker than any Muggle ones. A simple spell could determine if you were under seventeen. It was rather like the age line around the Goblet of Fire. Of course, as proven with that, these things weren't always foolproof. Luckily it was a bit less dangerous to get drunk than to participate in the Triwizard Tournament. That was, if a psychopathic vampire didn't decide to go after you while you were drunk. Harry scowled.
When they finally entered, the blasting techno music resonated around them, and people everywhere flailed like semi-epileptic squirrels. Drunk wizards and Muggles alike danced like idiots. And both were amusing to watch. Harry popped himself to the counter and grinned. "I'll have red wine. Whichever's your strongest, please."
"Not an order we get around here often," the barman said, handing him a glass brimming with the thick red liquid. When their fingers brushed, Harry shivered slightly, feeling that cold, unpleasant feeling slightly hit for a brief second. The barman must have mistook its meaning, however, because he gave a cunning smile and winked. "Green suits you." Harry opened his mouth to say something, but a glint of light caught his eye. A gold band glinted on the man's ring finger.
"Sorry, married men aren't really my type." The guy's face started turning red, but his jaw dropped.
"Holy fu – You're Harry Potter. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean t- to..." The guy trailed off, his sudden stutter amusing.
"Am I really?"
"I couldn't tell. Without your glasses on, you looked like someone else. Fuck... I – I'll just mind my own business. If there's any way you can pretend that didn't happen?"
"Wait, what?" Harry's hand reached up to his face. He wasn't wearing any glasses.
"Did you just put contacts on to trick people?"
"Yeah, when I put them on I had you specifically in mind," Harry muttered sarcastically, running off to find Ron and Hermione. They weren't that far off, but Hermione slid up and down against a rather pink-faced Ron. Harry couldn't help but chuckle. Ron's mouth gaped, and he awkwardly moved from side to side.
"Why didn't you tell me I wasn't wearing glasses?" he asked, looking around the club as if someone would call him out as if it were some terrible crime.
"Oh, well, we thought it was part of your outfit, Harry. At least, I did," Hermione said, looking slightly surprised by the interruption.
"I did too, mate. You look different. You had a new shirt and pants, so I thought it was just completing the look or something." He shrugged, and sighed as Hermione sat down. Apparently the grind-time was over.
"Oh..." There was no response Harry could really think of, so he quickly changed subject. "Anyway, figures that someone would flirt with me only after I was incapable of going out with anyone. Not that he was my type, anyway."
"The barman – I thought he was kind of cute. Although, everyone must dim compared to your mate, Harry," Hermione said, grabbing the glass she had set down and taking a sip of Firewhiskey. She said it so matter-of-factly.
"No, not my type in the 'Hey, I'm married,' kind of way. He still had his wedding ring on." Hermione burst out laughing, and Ron merely raised his eyebrows.
"Figures..." He muttered.
Their conversation dwindled quickly. It was nearly impossible to talk over the booming music, and screaming made their throats raw. So, they resorted back to dancing. Harry felt much more at ease with the knowledge that he didn't have to try to impress anyone. His dancing was a lot more rhythmic and decent in comparison to previous times. And when someone occasionally did bump into him, as was inevitable in a club, he felt a brief cold flash every time. It was actually manageable. It was also amusing to see Ron's dancing degrade with each new glass he had. Hermione and Harry would occasionally share a look and laugh, but not much else eventful happened. It was just relaxing.
It was past two before either Ron or Hermione started to become tired. They began to swing more to the beat, Ron happy mumbling to himself. Even Hermione would occasionally giggle in a manner uncharacteristic to her usual self. Of course, Harry knew she was a giggly drunk, and decided finally it was enough when she actually knocked Ron over. She had run into him, giggling hysterically, and only continued, her face turning red, when she saw him sprawled out on the floor.
He couldn't help but wonder if it was possible for vampires to get drunk on anything other than blood. It didn't seem so at the moment. He had drunk only a little bit of wine –all given to him by someone other than the original bartender, who carefully seemed to be avoiding Harry – but it didn't seem to affect him. Actually, the effects could be described as nothing other than the warmth of the alcohol minus the inhibiting bit. He didn't even have a light headache. But then again, two glasses of red wine was hardly enough to get tipsy without the vampire bit.
So, as he helped Ron and Hermione out, he chuckled. For once he wasn't the one being babied. He was the one doing the babying. Yet they seemed to become a lot more relaxed and normal even after simply leaving the club. Apparently there was something almost intoxicating about Vogue's atmosphere.
"I am not going to like this headache in the morning," Ron grumbled, clutching his head as if it already hurt. Hermione replied with a somewhat coherent thought. It was something about having a potion about that. Still, the ginger seemed to understand what she had to say because he nodded and said something back just as incomprehensible.
"Oh, speaking of which, Harry, I need to talk with you about something. I guess now is as good of a time as ever. I should – oh, just let me find it." Hermione reached into her purse and found what Harry knew to be a sobering potion. With a gulp, her head cleared and she groaned, suddenly drained from the strange strength of drunkenness. Handing Ron the bottle, she managed a half smile. Clearly she was tired. Hell, Harry was even starting to get tired. He was ready to curl up in his bed and sleep the day away. Still, he trusted that Hermione had something important to say. And now was almost as good a moment as any other, as she had said. So, with a single, wandless wave of the hand, he gestured that they should continue.
They all Apparated into the peaceful night, Ron moaning about his head. A rabbit scampered off, frightened, and after a brief pause, the night stilled again. The streets remained as quiet as they had been all those years ago – on that night Harry didn't remember when Dumbledore had set him down on another doorstep, far away on Privet Drive. It was Ron's groan that broke the silence. They seemed to snap out of some sort of trance, and all three of them simultaneously moved toward the doorstep. Harry unlocked the door and soon they found themselves upstairs in his kitchen. He handed Ron a migraine pill, and the ginger grumbled something about Muggle medicine before swallowing.
"I usually take the pills. Ron opts for potions most of the time." She affectionately pulled him over and nuzzled into his shoulder. "Let's just wait for the medicine to take effect. I want Ron to hear this too." Harry nodded.
"You haven't told him yet?""
"I thought it would be best for all three of us to discuss this."
"So, something to do with my –" Harry motioned to his teeth – "current situation." Hermione nodded. "Alright, but do you mind if I take my contacts out first? They're starting to annoy me." He walked over to his room, yet before he reached his contacts case, he noticed something was off.
In fact, he immediately spotted the letter on his bed, and recognized the loopy, elegant handwriting. "Malfoy," he muttered to himself. Smiling, he opened the letter, relaxing immediately as Malfoy's distinctive whiff filled his nose.
Potter
I came by to see
if you were doing alright, but
clearly you weren't here. If you find yourself in the
need of me anytime soon, simply ask Weasley to contact
me. It shouldn't be too much trouble.
Draco Malfoy
"Harry, you alright?" Hermione's voice breached through the happy white noise overflowing from Harry, and he heard her shuffling in the kitchen.
"Fine, coming!" Quickly he pulled out the contacts and ran over to the kitchen, grinning sheepishly. From the way he fiddled with his thumbs and slouched over slightly, Ron knew something had happened.
"What?" he asked, watching his best mate roll on the balls of his feet.
"Malfoy was here waiting for me." Something about that image made him happy. Malfoy seemed to genuinely care about him. It was a miracle. Or he was just dreaming. There was no Pureblood "I'm too good for this" attitude, or a childish refusal to help a Gryffindor. The grin on Harry's face was ridiculous.
"Oh, Harry, I'm glad he's not being a prat about this." Hermione began to make a move to hug him and awkwardly disguised it as some sort of a motion of excitement as her arms started to raise up from her waist.
"Me too. Oh, wait, what was it you wanted to tell me?"
"I – Just promise me you won't interrupt me until I'm done."
"Well, that sounds promising," Harry said, deflating a little.
"No, I know you're gonna like the first half of what I have to say, but you need to hear me out. It's important."
"Geez, 'Mione, and you didn't think to tell me any of this?"
"It's nothing certain, so I didn't want you blabbing to harry pointlessly."
"Blabbing to me about what, though?" Harry crossed his arms and slid into a chair.
"Okay, remember how I heard something about curing your – err – predicament?" Harry and Ron both nodded. "Well, we're not doing that."
"What – but that could be the only way to get him back as a human!" As he jumped up, Ron knocked his chair over. Even Harry felt rather shocked. Was Hermione trying to be an advocate for vampire rights? As admirable as the gesture was, it didn't seem to have worked so well with S.P.E.W.
"No, but that's the thing. I might have figured out an alternative cure. I was doing some research –"
"In the library, no doubt."
"Yes, Ron, in the library. Some of us care about Harry enough to actually look inside and read books. Anyway, I may have come up with something. It's more of my own creation than anything else, but it might just work. But it's not positive that it will work..."
"Why can't we do the ritual?" Harry asked after a moment of hesitation.
"Trust me, Harry. You wouldn't want to do it."
"I still want to know why. There is a reason, isn't there?"
"It's... Well, it's a sacrificial ritual. You're supposed to sacrifice your mate." Harry's skin prickled, and suddenly he felt on edge. Whatever happened, he knew he wouldn't take that path. Malfoy's life was worth far too much. His poor Draco – he shuddered.
"You're right. I wouldn't want to do it." An uncomfortable silence fell over them heavily like a woollen blanket.
"So, Hermione and I are going to be busy tomorrow," Ron said, smiling awkwardly.
"Oh?"
"Yeah, I bought tickets for a Weird Sisters concert. It's going to be totally awesome."
"Yeah, I'm sure." Conversation continued on for the next hour at ease. Everyone relaxed, and soon any worries or tension was dropped. It was almost as if nothing was wrong, as if they had come back after a long day at the Ministry to hang out.
Harry finally waved goodbye as they went home and watched them disappear in the flames. He was exhausted, but he felt so damn happy. At least that...
His bed had never seemed more comfortable, and his eyes fluttered shut moments after he had slipped beneath the blankets. As his heavy breathing filled the room, his fingers gently came undone. A crinkled letter with Draco's handwriting fell out and rested next to him. Even as he slept, Harry's smile persisted.
Tell me what you thought if you so desire, my lovelies.