Harry leaned his head into Draco's lap. His skin tickled as Draco moved his hand down, stroking his hair. His stomach dropped and his smile widened.

"I really miss being an Auror."

"Hm?" Draco looked down and raised his eyebrows.

"My job, I miss it." He nuzzled closer and Draco rolled his eyes, although his lips did twitch upward.

"I wish I'd done something other than modelling at times." Carefully he lifted Harry's head off of his lap and stretched out on the couch behind Harry. It was strange how boyfriend-ish the whole situation was.

"Why? You always were the narcissistic type."

"Hey!"

"Well, it's true..." Draco could only grunt, but he looked slightly upset.

"I was going to go into medicine. I wanted to be a Healer, but Father thought it was a bad idea. It wasn't fit for Malfoys. After what happened with him, though, I wasn't about to get a position in the Ministry. So, I just went with modelling."

"I could've helped you get a job at the Ministry. Surprisingly enough, helping save the world gives you a little weight." Harry laughed and tousled Draco's hair. Draco pulled back and glared. "You care too much about how you look."

"Some of us have to. And, anyway, would you have at that point?" Harry opened his mouth, but closed it. Not then, probably not. "Thought so."

HDHDHDHDHDHD

Draco's lips slid against his. Harry gasped, pulling him closer by his shirt. But then Draco switched positions, straddling him and pressing him against the back of the couch. He groaned as Draco pushed his hands behind his back and nipped at his neck.

Arching upward, he ground against Draco, eliciting a rare moan from the blond. It was almost like a present. That was what he strove for, that moment where Draco let out some involuntary sound. Immediately, however, Draco corrected himself. He pulled back and jumped into the armchair.

"Don't..." His voice was shaky and his fingers shook. "I'll leave you if you push it, Potter."

"Harry."

"Whatever... Harry." Harry couldn't help but smile.

HDHDHDHDHDHD

Harry's stomach grumbled. "Maybe you should leave." He hated having to tell Draco to go, especially now that they were really getting into the conversation, but it would be even worse if he truly started craving blood.

"It's really that bad?" Draco propped his chin up on his knees and looked over at Harry with a sympathetic expression.

"It's not really like thirst. I don't know how to describe it. It's more..." He couldn't seem to find the right word.

"Instinctive?" Draco asked.

"Well, yeah. I guess that pretty much sums it up. It's not like I have a choice. I just start feeling like if I don't get it I don't know what I'll do. Does that make sense?" Looking down awkwardly, Harry scratched at his nail. He suddenly was at a loss for words.

"You start feeling angry and irritated, like you're going to attack someone?"

"Well, yeah. How did you know?" Draco rolled his eyes.

"I read Potter. I'm not going to go help a vampire without clue about them. I just was curious whether it was true."

HDHDHDHDHDHD

Harry sighed. It was only two days in and he already missed the blond git. It turned out that there was more to him than arrogance and selfishness. It didn't exactly help his situation. Over the past there days he had come to like Draco. It wasn't just the mate part of him saying that either. He could distinguish the two. One was almost like an instinct, a greedy desire to reach out for Malfoy or drink his blood. The other part of him just wanted to talk with him a little longer. There wasn't the hint of lust. It was worse than the vampire part of him. What would Ron and Hermione say?

Leaning his head on his knees and closing his eyes, he tried to picture Draco sitting beside him. Of course, Draco had no feelings toward him. Perhaps he viewed him a little less hostilely, but it wasn't like he would even consider them mates, or, to say, friends.

Mates – unfortunately or fortunately, they already were. But Draco's life had been so much less simple than Harry had ever imagined. Who had William been? Clearly he hadn't gone to Hogwarts. Or, if he had, Harry didn't know him. Maybe it was another gorgeous model.

Whoever he was, why had he died? How had he died? He had wanted to ask, but he knew how touchy the subject of death was. He didn't want to make Draco relive any awful feelings, and there certainly were those... He looked like he felt guilty, although, from what he saw, there was no reason to be. From sixth year he had known that Draco wasn't capable of killing anyone. The only reason he seemed imposing was because of the proud way he held himself upright and his easy-to-quip mouth.

Maybe it was his defence system.

Shaking his head, he pushed himself up and strolled over to the living room. Ron and Hermione had sent some blood earlier. He hadn't bothered drinking it yet; he'd been too busy thinking about Draco. But maybe a little bit of blood would get his mind away from Draco. He popped open the vial and took a sip. It tasted as amazing as usual, but somehow it left an unpleasant aftertaste. It wasn't Draco's blood. Any blood was adequate, but Draco's... Harry shuddered. Blood seemed to have the adverse effect of what he'd hoped.

The kiss – maybe he should think of the kiss... kisses. Draco hadn't held back on those. The thought alone made Harry quiver. The way Draco's hand had slid on the back of his neck – Harry could feel his warm skin sliding against his. Maybe it was just the vampire within him speaking up, but there was something sensual about it, beyond the whole kissing aspect. The fact that they were kissing did augment it, but Draco made something bubble up within him, and he savoured every second of it.

Good on you, Harry, he thought, groaning. Why did everything have to suddenly be so confusing? Everything had been easy when it had been more black-and-white. Draco kept his distance and Harry had kept his. They lived in different circles; they were like a mixture. He was the oil and Draco was the water. Or maybe it was the other way around. It didn't really matter. The point was that they didn't belong and that the two of them were about as likely to happen as Ron and Hermione breaking up.

Harry's head hurt. He quit pacing and decided that sleeping seemed to be the best option.

At least he was able to escape while asleep. Well, escape to a certain extent. His dreams were still dotted with Draco, but they didn't have to make sense. And in them, Draco didn't have to be aloof. He could – he could do all sorts of things. It was nice to have a place where Draco didn't have to croon over William; he could croon over him instead. Harry smiled smugly, but it quickly faded. Draco wouldn't be crooning over him anytime soon. He was probably having a blast wherever he was, glad to be rid of him.

All Harry had done was pace back and forth all night. He might as well do something useful. At this point, sleep was useful. Harry went back to his room and fell backwards on his bed before cocooning himself in his blanket. At least that still had the scent of Draco in it. He inhaled and closed his eyes, dreaming of a certain blond in a world where neither was a vampire.

He woke to shaking hands. Someone was throwing him around. Harry's eyes snapped open and he growled, flipping over the person on top of him. It turned out it was Ron. Hermione stood by the side, and she quickly cast a spell, sending Harry flying back. "No time to explain. We didn't mean to wake you up during the day, but you need to come; there's no other choice."

"Come? Choice? What are you two talking about?" Harry rubbed his eyes and stood up. Hermione waved her wand again and Harry's trunk formed itself with clothes.

"Just run, Harry." Shaking, he grabbed the trunk and jumped in the fire. There was the familiar feeling and his stomach seemed to drop to the floor when he landed. He stumbled out into Ron and Hermione's apartment, just in time, and Ron came out after him. Harry noticed the curtains were all pulled. They had been quick but thorough in making sure Harry didn't get hurt in any way. There wasn't even the scent of garlic.

"Hermione did some quick spells," Ron announced as Hermione appeared.

"This way, Harry." She ushered him toward a bookcase. "It's a bit cliché, but I had to think up a place to hide you on the spot." She said a few words in a language Harry didn't understand before walking straight through the bookcase. Harry stared, stunned, but Ron gave him a push. Even when inside the room, he could still see Ron standing on the other side.

"Hide me? Will someone please tell me what's going on?"

"You go, 'Mione. Someone needs to tell him. I'll call you if anyone comes knocking. And, anyway, you need to set up those spells."

"Right, the spells," Hermione muttered. "Alright, Harry, give me a moment. I need to cast a few spells. Just unpack your things and relax for one moment." Relax? How could he relax? They were freaking out, which certainly gave Harry reason to freak out as well. Still, he glanced around the room. It was fairly small and dungeon-like. The walls were made entirely out of stone, and there was very little. The only furnishings were a bed and a mix of a chest of drawers and a desk. A small bathroom stuck out to one side.

"Please tell me what's going on." Harry glanced around worriedly, and Hermione finished one last spell before she pulled back. There were tears in her eyes.

"Harry, I think we were wrong about Malfoy." What was that supposed to mean? Harry's mouth opened, but he never asked the question. Hermione continued, brushing her eyes on her sleeve. "Th – They found out. They know you're a vampire. I don't know who else would've told. I mean, maybe it wasn't him, but..."

"No." Draco wouldn't do that. Harry felt his heart turn to paper and tear. "He cares. He wouldn't." Suddenly the grip in his chest expanded. He couldn't breathe. Harry fell to his knees. "You'll see," he wheezed. A dry cough pulled out of his throat, and his fingers dug into the stone floor.

"We can't be one hundred percent sure, but who else would have ever said anything?" There had to be some other explanation. Draco wouldn't just give him the best three days of his life and then abandon him.

The three best days of his life? Was that even true? For the first time he felt like he had connected with some guy who wasn't one of his friends. Those days had caused him to completely re-evaluate Draco. And when Draco had kissed him – well, he had already gone over this a million times. Behind the joy, the thought that this was his mate, he felt like a little kid chasing his crush again. When they had talked about more serious things – about death and the war – Draco had understood him better than anyone else, even Ron and Hermione. So, why would he have said anything to the Ministry?

Rage and fear and horror and hope – everything blossomed inside of his chest and he curled his eyes shut. It was worse than a Cruciatus. Everything conflicted. He didn't know what to feel, what to choose. Were those three days just to break him, just to make it harder?

The denial began to set him. Not his mate – his mate wouldn't do this to him. Rejection was one thing, but turning him in, building him up just to laugh at this like it was a sick joke – it was impossible to take.

"Harry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Hermione hovered, her hand just over his back, trying to comfort him.

"No." Harry looked up to see Hermione crying. She opened her mouth, but shut it as a sick smile twisted onto Harry's face. He looked like he was in pain, and he simply pulled himself up and sat on the bed, refusing to move a centimetre. "I need to hope."

"Hope? Harry, you can't be overly optimistic. I'm all for optimism in some situations, but with Malfoy..."

"It can't be him. I can't let myself think it's him."

"But –"

"No. If it's him..." Harry shuddered. "Merlin knows what will happen. When Draco left me for a day and told me he wasn't coming back I broke down. If he's – after all that – I don't know what I'll do to you and Ron." Hermione nodded, but before she could form a response, the doorbell rang.

"Don't move, Harry. If they know you're here... They can't find out. To die because someone else bit you and ruined your life – it wouldn't be fair." Harry had to agree. She scurried out and answered the door. Kingsley Shacklebolt walked in, looking more scared than Harry had seen him since the war.

"You got my message?" Hermione nodded and Ron's arm wrapped around her as she broke down into tears again. At least she didn't have to pretend about being distraught. If only Kingsley knew the real reason. "Harry wasn't there. Someone warned him. You have to understand, I feel terrible asking, but we have to search your house. Our source suggests that you might have helped. I know this is heard enough without us poking our noses around. You probably just want time alone. I'm so sorry..."

"It's okay. Not really, but we understand," Ron said. His voice was quiet and trembled. Harry could tell he was holding back tears as well. He moved out of Kingsley's way, shifting Hermione as well. As few people followed behind Kingsley and Harry held his breath as they pulled out their wands. If Hermione's wards didn't hold he would be... Oh, God, he would be killed. He wasn't ready for that.

He had spent almost all his life trying to help stop a psychopath from taking control of the world. He had barely had time to adjust to his new life. And then there was the fact that he hadn't even had a proper boyfriend yet. Hell, he hadn't even had sex! What if he died a virgin?

Alright, Harry, this is much more serious than that. Just think straight. Taking a deep breath, Harry steadied himself. This was not the time to break down. Just don't think about Dr - The thought cut off as Roberts, one of the Aurors he worked with, stepped in front of the bookcase, waving his wand enthusiastically. It was now or never... Why did such a simple gesture determine whether he lived or died? He had faced tens of Death Eaters, yet if Hermione's wards didn't hold, he was as good as dead.

"Nope, nothing." Roberts strode over to Kingsley's side, and Harry sighed quietly. Today wasn't the day he was supposed to die, apparently. Hermione relaxed slightly and wiped away her tears.

"What are you going to do with him when you find him?" Ron asked. His voice remained unsteady, and Harry could tell that he was gripping Hermione hard.

"I'm not sure there will be much to do. We'll probably have to have a hearing or something. I don't think we can easily stake Harry Potter without showing he's a threat first." Kingsley's shoulders slumped and suddenly he wasn't quite as formal. "I'm so sorry. Of all people, Harry deserved this least. His entire life he's been fighting something. I thought he was finally going to get a break." He sighed before regaining his composure.

"Thank you," Hermione squeaked. "And you can't tell us who this 'source' is?"

"I'm not sure if he wants others to know yet. If so, you'll find out in one of the Prophets." With that he strode out, the others at his heels. As soon as they were out of sight, Hermione shut the door and rushed over to the bookshelf.

"Harry?" Ron followed her into the hidden room and collapsed on the floor. Harry felt sick. At least he wasn't caught. There was just one thing he wanted to do now...

"I'm going to write a letter to Draco."

"What!" Both of his friends looked shocked.

"I'm going to ask him if he did it. If he did, he'd have no reason to lie at this point."

"But we don't even know where he is," Ron said, lifting his head up and looking concerned.

"His father can send it to him. We'll just seal it in an envelope so that only Draco and open it, and then place that one in another."

"And how will he know what to do with it? Harry, you're not making any sense."

"We'll add a note simply saying to send it to Draco. Please, for once, don't question. I just need you to do this for me." Harry felt his stomach cramp, and he leaned over, eyes screwing shut. Please, Draco, you didn't do this. Just tell me you didn't do this.

"I – alright," Hermione finally said. "But I'll have to do a different sort of spell. I'm not sure how to make it stay shut unless it's held by him, but I can make objects sealed for a few days. It's useful around Christmas." Harry nodded.

"That will do. He'll give up if he realises he can't open it, I'm guessing."

"This is a bad idea," Ron muttered. "But if it'll help you, I can't say no."

"It will."

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Harry paced back and forth in his room. There still was no reply from Draco. He had sent the message almost a day ago. There still hadn't been any sort of reply. He had told Hermione to seal it for three days. Hopefully Lucius Malfoy had no clue what they were up to. He felt a sudden cramp again, and kneeled over. They came and went. He just needed to know that Draco had nothing to do with this.

"Harry? I..." Hermione's voice rang out. She ran into the room, Ron chasing after her. They both looked frightened. In fact, Hermione was trembling. Something was wrong. Harry wasn't sure he wanted to find out what it was.

"What?" The words came out sharper than he meant, and he struggled to his feet. A pang hit him hard, and he began to shake. "No..."

"It was Lucius Malfoy. Draco must have told him. I guess he didn't want to do it outright. Harry, I'm so sorry."

"It's our fault. We never should have told him," Ron added.

"Draco wouldn't tell. He cared." Harry let out a dry sob and dug his fingers into the floor. As his middle fingers scraped against it, the nail snapped off. His sob transformed into a scream, and Hermione clung onto Ron. "Chain me."

"Can't we just –"

"Chain me!" Harry weakly attempted to lunge at them, and Hermione's wand instinctively snapped up. Magical chains bound his arms upwards and his feet to the ground.

"I'm so sorry. I just wanted to help you. I'm so sorry," Hermione blubbered. Her phrases repeated as if she was a broken record, but Harry blurred them out. Draco had told. It hadn't mattered. None of it mattered. Those three days probably were just a joke to Draco. And those conversation – well, he had been a good actor. Maybe he had wanted to believe him at first, but Draco truly had sounded sincere. Those kisses...

Harry wailed as his chest compressed. He couldn't breathe. Part of him wanted to find Draco and tear his throat, rip him to pieces. Another part just wanted to pretend this wasn't happened. Ron and Hermione suddenly seemed insignificant, and he angrily tried to throw himself at them. It could have been their fault; perhaps they were right. The chains yanked him back, but Hermione still jumped before running away.

"We never meant for this to happened," Ron added. And then he sprinted away as well, calling Hermione's name.

And I end on an unhappy note. Again.