Author's Note: There, I didn't leave you in suspense for long this time, did I?

Chapter 16

Harry had barely caught his breath when Draco started screaming. He remembered the insurmountable amount of pain. It had felt as if his bones were shattering and someone had poured liquid fire into his veins. There was nothing he could do now. The process was taking place. When Draco began having spasms, Harry felt his breath catch in his throat.

"Draco, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry..." He grabbed Draco, feeling his body twitch beneath him. Dry sobs wracked him, and he collapsed on the bed, burying his head into his knees.

Draco would never forgive him when he woke up. The last thing anyone wanted was to be a vampire. And yet he had managed to fantastically fuck everything up. And who would his mate even be? Harry would chase after him, but Draco would only have eyes for someone else, wouldn't he? Screaming into the cloth, he tried to decide what to do.

Was he supposed to tell Ron and Hermione? How would they react? And how would he even explain it? See, Draco wanted me to fuck him, and then I kind of lost control – my bad! Growling, he reached for the wall, punching with all his might. The stone broke, and Harry felt his entire hand and wrist shatter. His scream echoed around the room, and as he pulled his hand out, he yelped at the bloody mess.

Pain shot up and down his arm. He didn't need to even attempt to flex to realise that he had managed to break a good deal of bones. Looking back down at Draco – who had now become still, despite his face being scrunched up – he used his good hand to prop the blond's head on his lap. Slowly he stroked his hair, staring down at him.

"Why did you have to push it? I'll never be William." He didn't by any mean blame Draco, but he just wished he had thought it through. Draco had been so desperate for William's comfort that he had jumped at Harry, knowing it would be impossible to push him back. After all, he would have had to be crazy to say no to his mate.

But then again, maybe he had been crazy saying yes. It wasn't like he could have resisted. When Draco had wrapped his hands around him and looked at him like that – Harry shuddered. It made his cock twitch just thinking about it. And now was definitely not the time to get a hard-on. He looked back down at Draco and clenched his eyes shut. In just a few hours he would be waking up with newfound powers and a certain fury at him. Of course, it was a well-founded one. Now I'm just going in a circle.

Harry lay down, careful not to put pressure on his hand. It throbbed and shook. Just looking at it – skin peeled and bone sticking out – he felt and urge to vomit. But then he looked back at Draco and sighed, shifting again to an upright position. It was difficult trying to do everything with one hand.

Sighing, he reached over, picking up Draco with both. Pain shot through him and he screamed, but he didn't let go. He merely lowered him slowly onto the floor. Then, he uncovered the blankets Draco had been lying on. Now he had to pick him up again. It was almost impossible not to drop him. It felt as if all the bones were re-shattering when he laid him down on the bed again.

Whimpering, he cradled his own arm before lying down next to the blond. Using his good hand, he covered them with the blankets. At least now Draco wouldn't be cold. That had been worth the pain.

Oh, God, he was lost. Here he was, turning Draco into a vampire and worrying about him being cold... Life really had it in for him, didn't it? As Draco started whimpering, Harry began humming, stroking the blond's hair again. He could feel Draco relaxed under his touch and smiled, placing a kiss on the back of his neck.

"You silly, gorgeous boy – why did you have to tempt me?" Of course, it was more than that. Draco's best friends had been killed. He couldn't imagine how he would have reacted if he found out that Ron and Hermione were dead. Harry shuddered, shoving that thought away. That was the last thing he needed to think about right now.

Slowly Draco eased into sleep. He was calm, and his breathing was deep and steady. A small smile formed on his lips, in fact. Harry couldn't help but smile as well for a moment, ignoring the pain and the fear. At least Draco could enjoy himself while he was still oblivious to what had happened.

Harry couldn't sleep. Every time he went to close his eyes, he pictured Draco gasping beneath him, blood pouring down his neck. Then it'd flash to him dead, flash to a gravestone. Had he done the right thing? Would it have been better to let him die?

Now he was stuck in vampire form forever, dangerous with a second death looming above his head. What if the Ministry found both of them? How would it look for Ron and Hermione then? Kingsley could probably understand them protecting Harry, but two vampires, and a Malfoy on top of that... Harry stifled a sob.

That was it. He had to do something. He had put them through enough shite already. Draco had vowed to help him, and look where it got him. He couldn't wait until he hurt either Ron or Hermione. When would he decide he had done enough damage? What would it take? He had to go to the Ministry and turn himself in. There was no other way. If he didn't do it now, he would keep on putting it off. And he didn't want to be there to see Draco swooning over someone else. He had enough with William's constant mentions. If Draco's could bear to even touch him...

"I'm sorry, love." With that Harry got out of bed, reaching over for clothes. He found something decently respectable, but before he could put it on, he pointed the wand at himself. "Scourgify." That would have to do for now. He had no time to take a shower, and it would wake someone up. If Ron and Hermione found him, they would try to stop him, and he couldn't have that happening.

Quietly he got dressed. Waving his wand, he muttered, "Tempus" under his breath. 5:49 flickered in front of him. The sun would be up soon. Well, not too soon, but soon enough. There was enough time to run to the Ministry and get there in time before Kingsley, still.

Grabbing his invisibility cloak, he threw it over himself, and cast a spell around him to block muffle the sound of his footsteps. The door opened without a sound, and he carefully shut it. No one seemed to be awake. That was a good sign. He opened the main door and slowly eased out.

With an unfortunately loud crack, he Apparated to the telephone booth in front of the Ministry. The booth slid down, and when he stepped out, there was no one in sight. There would be guards, but they would be easy to get by like this.

When the elevator door opened in front of him, he glanced around just to make sure one final time that he was alone, and slid in. Automatically he grabbed on, making sure he didn't get jerked about too much. This was like routine to him. I work here. Worked.

It was strange seeing the Ministry lacking it's usually energy. Without any of it, it seemed empty, and not just in its lack of people; it had an abandoned feel to it. He remembered last time it was like this, when he had come with his friends. When Sirius had died... Harry swallowed heavily as he left the elevator.

The Minister's door was only a bit over. It creaked open, and Harry slipped in. The room was empty, although papers were scattered all over the tables and floor. "Tempus." It was now 6:17. Kingsley would be here soon. Harry placed his wand and invisibility cloak down at the door and moved over by the desk. Slowly he slid down, sobbing again, dryly into his hands. "Fuck." He never thought it would come down to this. There had been no goodbyes, although maybe it was better that way.

Why had he been drunk that one night? It had introduced him to Draco – the real Draco – but it had also been the beginning of the end. Here he was, ready to get captured by his friends. Ready to get killed by his friends. Of course, they wouldn't trust him if he said he was safe. He had staked a good few vampires who had said that.

Only, they probably had been safe. How many lives had he ruined? How many people were only looking for their mates, trying to escape the constant fear of becoming something they had never asked to be? Harry shuddered. He was no better than the Death Eater; he had murdered innocents as well.

Only he wasn't innocent. He had almost killed Draco. Worse than that, he had transformed Draco into the same thing he was – the same thing he loathed about himself. "Just try to forgive me," Harry muttered, pushing his knees up to his chest. Just as his eyes closed, there was a sound behind the door. Footsteps were approaching, and Harry could smell Kingsley. Oh, God, this was really it. He might as well face them standing up. Jerking up, he winced as his hand rattled. It hurt like hell.

"But we'll need to –" Kingsley froze as he saw him. There were two other Aurors next to him, and both immediately reacted, wands pointed at Harry. He simply raised his hands in the air.

"Shite, we don't have any stakes," one of them muttered. It was Roberts. Apparently he was trying to becoming Kingsley's new right-hand man. Still, Kingsley ignored him and glanced down, seeing Harry's cloak and wand.

"Curious," he muttered.

"Sir, he's still dangerous." The other man came into view. It was Thomas, another Auror Harry knew. Harry scowled, waiting for someone to attack.

"If none of you are going to do it." Harry instantly felt himself bound, and fell to the floor, screaming in pain as he fell on his crushed hand. Whimpering, he tried to shift the weight off of it, but found himself immobile. It shot up his arm, stabbed him. He could feel it fall apart.

"He just turned himself in," Kingsley said, looking at Harry as if he didn't understand. "No vampire has ever done that."

"He's probably just extra clever," Roberts said. "Aren't you, Potter?" Roberts spit on his face, ignoring his whimpers, and Harry screwed his eyes shut.

"No! I don't care what he is or how dangerous he is. You will not spit on anyone's face." Kingsley was angry. Roberts shrunk back.

"But sir –"

"No."

Why couldn't they just kill him? Hadn't he been humiliated enough? And Draco – oh, God, Draco.

"I'm so sorry," Harry choked out before he could help himself. Kingsley's eyes immediately swivelled back toward him.

"Sorry for what?" he asked, leaning over, although he stayed at a safe distance. Harry shook his head, refusing to open his eyes. They were so close to doing it. Where was the fucking stake? He had to convince them to do something. Harry's eyes shot open, and Kingsley's jumped back. That's right. See the red. Remember I'm a monster.

"He – We're going to need a trial. I don't think we can just kill Harry Potter and get away with it." No! He had come all this way to be denied death – of all things?

"But, sir, I think Roberts is right," Thomas muttered. "He's a vampire. That's not Harry Potter anymore. I mean, you even saw his red eyes." Kingsley shook his head.

"But the public will still. We'll need to take him to Azkaban to keep him somewhere safe. There's something wrong. He turned himself in." He cut off Roberts who was about to speak. "I know he's a monster, but I know how Harry functions. If he had wanted to fight us, he wouldn't have let us get him that easily."

"That isn't Harry Potter anymore though! Sir, I can get a stake, and we can just say that he attacked us –"

"Lie to the public, Roberts? That's your genius solution to this? Clearly you've learnt nothing here. No. The boy will be taken to Azkaban until I figure out what to do with him. If I here of any 'accidents' on the trip, I'll make sure to it that you lose your job. Am I clear?" Roberts nodded.

This was absurd. All he had wanted to do was die. It was standard procedure. You find a vamp, and then you stake it. But yet again, he was deemed "special". Yet again, his "Golden Boy" status got in the way of everything else. He couldn't just be treated normally, could he? It had to be complicated because of something he didn't even ask to do. It was absurd.

Harry felt a tickle in his throat, and before he could stop himself, he started laughing. Roberts, Thomas, and Kingsley all jumped back, staring at him, bewildered, but Harry didn't even notice. He couldn't stop laughing.

HDHDHDHDHDHD

Roberts grabbed him and continued pushing him forward as if he had to be led. Harry felt an urge to simply tell him that he could walk fine on his own, but that would require talking to him. And that was the one thing he had vowed not to do. Kingsley wanted to prove that he was innocent – that much was clear. Roberts had been trying to ask him questions all the way down the halls.

"This place gives me the fucking creeps." Roberts shivered, giving Harry a shove. His hands were tied firmly behind his back with magic, so when he fell to the ground, he couldn't catch himself. Roberts chuckled. "But I feel better already."

Harry's jaw clenched, and he felt an urge to shut Roberts up forever. The thought scared him. Of course, Roberts had practically licked his shoes when they worked together. That's how it went, Harry supposed.

"Here it is. How do you like this for a brand new home?" Roberts picked him up and turned him around to face a jail cell. Harry said nothing. "Look, I don't know what you're trying at. Maybe you did this because you like the attention. All I know is you're a monster, and it's my job to kill you. I was hoping you'd give me a reason to, but, then again, we know that Kingsley wouldn't believe me. You little shite, you took my job when you were alive. Now that you're dead, you're still his favourite." Roberts sneered, opening the door and shoving Harry in by his broken hand. Again, pain hit him, and he screamed.

"There. That's better, isn't it?" He smirked, slamming the door behind him. Harry felt the bonds release, and he scurried back against a wall. He had known Roberts wasn't the nicest guy, but this was a side of him he hadn't wanted to know. Of course, he had been in Slytherin, but he had fought on the right side of the war from the beginning. Yet now he was acting like a right prick. Harry's eyes clenched shut, and he pulled his legs up to his chest, resting his forehead on them.

Someone came over, and muttered something into Robert's ear. Roberts looked back at him. "So, Dementors don't affect the un-dead, do they?" He smirked as if this was the best news he had heard all day. Although, Harry didn't quite understand – if he was so keen on hurting him, why wouldn't that just make him angry? "Garlic. We're going to need lots of it. Line up the doors with it. Make sure he suffocates a little. It can't be enough to kill him though. Shacklebolt wouldn't want his precious boy dead." He smirked and walked off, his shoes clicking on the tiles behind him.

A shudder went through Harry. He could remember the burning in his throat last time he had smelt garlic. He had thought he was going to die. He felt as if he were wilting and drowning. If they lined the doors, he could only imagine what it would do. Harry pushed back further against the wall, staring wide-eyed as the guards glared at him.

"Harry Potter in Azkaban – times certainly do change," one of them muttered. Then they continued to silently stand.

Harry waited, horrified that every second brought the garlic closer. It took a good hour for it to come, but when it did, Harry smelled it before it was even in sight. He let out a sudden yelp, and the guards glanced back at him, confused. "What's he playing at?" one of them asked. But then it got closer, and even they noticed Roberts carrying it.

There was a decent amount. Harry's nostrils began to sting, and it was suddenly hard to breath. His eyes became blurry, and he barely could watch as they hung it up. A gentle thud in his head slowly expanded until it felt as if someone were pounding a rock steadily against it. Every part of him screamed. He had to get away, but there was nowhere to move. His sobs were ineffective, only drawing more air into his lungs, spreading the feeling through him. It was hard to focus. He could hear Roberts chuckling to himself...

"Not so tough, now, Potter." He wanted to retort for once, call Roberts a coward, but his jaw no longer knew how to function. Everything was getting a little dark at the edges. He just needed to close his eyes for a little bit and everything would be okay. Harry felt pain, and then only saw black.

HDHDHDHDHDHD

"Harry!" He slowly blinked. Someone was calling his name. It barely pierced his conscious, but it was still there. He had to wake up. It sounded an awful lot like Draco, actually. Something started to come into focus in front of him, something pale – a person. Harry breathed in. There was the garlic, but beyond that, there definitely was Draco as well.

Harry's eyes opened as everything came into focus. He felt like hell, but Draco was standing in front of him. Flinging his arms around him, he squeezed, burying his head into his shoulder. His hand, oddly enough, didn't hurt, and Harry flexed, feeling it whole once again.

Draco was here in front of him. He had to be dead. Otherwise Draco wouldn't be here. Harry yanked his chin down, pressing a desperate kiss to the blond's lips. He could taste the vanilla and another, unfamiliar bitter taste. But it didn't matter what he tasted like. What mattered was that he was here. Pulling his fingers though Draco's hair, he noticed the blond moan quietly, and he responded by pressing Harry's shoulder's back against the wall. But before anything else could happen, a voice interrupted.

"Curious," Kingsley Shacklebolt muttered. Draco pulled away.

"I told you I was his mate."

Curious indeed. (Nine chapters left, guys!)