Draco's knees dig into the grass covered ground covered with sticks and rocks, but he hardly notices as his lips wrap tightly around the head of the boy's pulsing cock. His tongue dancing along the sensitive tip as he sucks and teases with expert precision. The boy's body trembles under Draco's ministrations, begging for more as his hands grasp desperately at Draco's hair. A wicked smirk spreads across Draco's face as he takes in more and more of the boy's length into his mouth, relishing in the deep moans and gasps that escape from above. The grip on his hair becomes possessive, but Draco can't bring himself to care at the moment as he pushes further down, hitting the back of his throat and triggering a gag reflex. In response, the boy thrusts his hips upward, causing Draco to hum in approval and eliciting a cry of pleasure from above. As the pressure builds within him, Draco continues to suck and swirl his tongue until he feels the boy's cock swell in his throat, bringing both of them to an intense climax.
"I'm close," the boy hisses as his hips thrust out again causing pieces of bark fall off the tree Draco pressed him against a few short minutes ago in a frantic kiss.
Draco dares to look up into the other boys eyes, something he dares to never do because it makes it makes something that will never last feel too real and instead of hazel ones he sees deep green ones.
"Draco?" Potter asks in confusion, waving a hand in front of his face.
Draco blinks as the smell of pine and sex are replaced with the metallic scent of lab equipment. He shakes off yet another strange vison that he fails to recall and grimaces as he registers his massive hard on. He is suddenly very glad he chooses to wear wizarding attire instead of the tight scraps of fabric that pass of clothing among muggles.
"Are you okay?" Potter asks, poking Draco's hand.
Draco flinches back at the unexpected touch and a hurt look crosses Potter's face. Draco can't find it in himself to apologize.
"I'm fine, Swan," he snaps.
"You didn't look fine," Potter mutters under his breath, as he turns away and starts gathering his stuff.
It is then that Draco notices that class is over and that everyone else is packing up. Cedric looks over at Potter, eager to snatch up his attention.
"Harry?"
Potter glances at Diggory a soft look entering his eyes, and Draco bites back a sneer.
"What time are you coming over tonight?"
Potter grins as he follows Diggory out.
"Ten o'clock, same as everyone else,"
Draco bares his teeth at the direction of Diggory's thought, of having Potter over earlier to do some less than savory activities.
"Well, I was wondering if you would-"
Draco shoves between the two, hissing, "Stop blocking the door," ignoring as Diggory's scowl as he wears a grin to gym.
"Luna, we are going to a Halloween party. You are going to be an Angel" Draco announces as he barges into her room ignoring Theo tangled up with her.
Draco exudes a dangerous energy, clad in a sleek Slytherin black snake leather jacket and matching pants. His slim figure is defined by the tight white 'tank top' that hugs his torso. The way he has slicked back his hair, a style he favored back in second year, adds to his overall sense of confidence and allure. A silver choker adorns his neck, its pendant in the shape of a coiled snake with sparkling emeralds for eyes. His slitted yellow 'contacts' give him an otherworldly gaze, without the need for any type of illusion or charm. And when he speaks, his thin, elongated fangs peek out from behind his lips, adding to the seductive and dark aura that surrounds him.
"Oh I have the perfect outfit," Luna says in an excited voice and then disappears into her expansive closet.
Theo sighs, sitting up and raising an eyebrow at him.
"Still unable to accept the undeniable failure of your religious themed plan?" Theo asks with a cackle.
"No, it's not a failure! It is a success."
"But you two never talk anymore, and Harry always feels all mopey instead of mad." Theo says with a confused look.
"No, but he talks to me more than ever. My silence drives him insane, which means it is working because he is interested in me."
Theo shrugs and lays back down.
"If you say so."
What do I know about romance? It's not like I have a longstanding wife or anything…
Draco growls and yanks himself out of Theo's head, as Luna emerges from her closet, Draco's eyes widened in shock. He can't believe what he is seeing - six feathered wings sprouted from her back, each one adorned with intricate hand-painted eyes of different colors. Her white tights are covered in tiny hand-sewn eyes, and the same can be said for the white dress that hugs her body, with a large eye sewn directly onto the chest. The overall effect is eerie, like a creature out of his worst nightmare.
"What are you wearing?" he asks in a faint voice.
"It's a real angel costume, " Luna says nonplussed.
Draco thinks about the effort and time he could waste trying to convince her to wear a sexy and appropriate costume for a teen party according to his internet research. Then decides it's not worth it. Especially since Theo will inevitably take Luna's side. Annoying how he always fought for her to be true to herself and all that nonsense.
"Right," Draco says in a defeated voice.
Theo grins lazily at him, manipulating the air in the room towards a more hopeful feeling. Draco hates it when he does that. It feels like having a Elixir to Induce Euphoria shoved down his throat. Blaise walks by the open door and wolf whistles at Luna. Luna spins around giggling and Draco gives him the finger.
"Oh cheer up Draco, with Luna by your side Harry, won't be able to take his eyes off of you," Blaise cackles.
Harry leans against the wall, nursing his drink as he watches the party unfold. Cedric beside him, dressed as Prince Caspian, a warm smile on his face.
"You know your costume only technically passes the theme?" Cedric asks, his eyes twinkling.
Harry shrugs, offering a small smile in return.
"A book based off a movie is still a book,"
"I think Hermione would disagree," Cedric says with a smirk.
"Too disappointing Hermione," Harry says clinking his red solo cup against Cedric's and downing the rest of it.
"Are you enjoying the party," Cedric asks, his eyes lingering on Harry's lips.
Harry blushes.
"It's... different from what I'm used to."
Cedric chuckles. "Small town parties take some getting used to. But hey, at least the company's good, right?"
As they chat, Harry can't help but feel a sense of comfort in Cedric's presence. Yet, there is something missing, something yet to arrive - a spark, an excitement that Harry can't quite place. He is not entirely sure what he is waiting for but there is a sense of expectation grinding between the twisting bodies of the dark makeshift dance floor in Cedric's cleared out living room. Hermione dressed in a Chesiree cat costume more than a few shots in, gives Harry a loopy grin as she leans over and whispers something in Ron's ear, who is dressed as Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, having lost a bet with Fred and George. Whatever she says makes Ron turn bright red and grab her hand pulling her into the sea of bodies.
Harry smiles at the stunned look on Ron's face as he tugs Hermione closer to him swaying to the new slower song that comes over Cedric's father's expensive speakers. Harry glances over and shares a smirk with Ginny dressed as the White Queen, who dances with Lavender and Parvati who are dressed as the Red Queen and Elphaba. They both knew this was a long time coming.
"Hey, have you heard about the hikers going missing lately?" Cedric asks, breaking the pleasant buzz of the atmosphere.
Harry frowns. "No, what hikers?"
"There've been a few disappearances in the woods around Forks. The police are saying it's probably animal attacks, but..." Cedric trails off, looking uneasy.
"But what?"
Cedric shakes his head.
"Nothing. Just be careful, okay? Don't go wandering off into the woods alone."
Harry suddenly feeling way too sober points to his empty drink, "I think I am going to get a refill," he says, not waiting for Cedric to respond before plunging into the crowd.
Harry's senses are jarred as he feels a sudden rush of cool air brush against his skin.
"Hello," a melodious voice whispers in his ear.
He whips his head to find himself face to face with a breathtaking boy, whose inky hair falls in tussled locks around his pale face. The boy's piercing red eyes seem to glow in the strobe lights. His alabaster skin looks smooth and flawless. He dons a high collared black cape, complete with fake vampire fangs that glisten in the dim light, and a frilly white shirt that adds an elegance to his dark attire.
"Hello," Harry replies in a hesitant voice.
The mysterious boy's lips quirk up in a charming smile, his eyes gleaming with some hidden knowledge.
"I'm Tom, it's a pleasure to meet you," he introduces himself, extending a hand towards Harry.
As Tom's cool hand clasps his own, Harry feels an inexplicable shiver run down his spine. There is something eerily familiar about the boy's touch, reminiscent of... but no, that can't be right. Harry shakes off the thought, chalking it up to the alcohol clouding his judgment."
"Harry Swan," he responds, studying Tom's features closely.
There's something peculiar about him, something that tugs at the edges of his memory like a forgotten dream.
"What brings you to Forks?" Tom inquires casually, his red eyes locking onto Harry's green ones with an intensity that sends a shiver down Harry's spine.
"Just... visiting some family," Harry answers vaguely, not wanting to reveal too much about his true purpose in this secluded town, not that the papers haven't already had a field day inventing a reason.
Tom nods understandingly, his gaze never leaving Harry's face.
"Well, let me refill your drink," he offers smoothly, taking Harry's cup and weaving towards the kitchen before Harry can protest.
Harry just loses sight of Tom when he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns to find Collin standing there, looking nervous.
"Hey, Harry," Collin says, his voice barely audible over the music. "Can we talk? Maybe... outside?"
Harry hesitates, remembering their awkward encounter earlier in the week. "Collin, I don't think-"
"Please," Collin interrupts, his eyes pleading. "It's important."
Before Harry can respond, he feels a cool presence behind him. Tom's smooth voice cuts through the tension.
"Is everything alright here?" he asks, his arm snaking possessively around Harry's waist.
Collin's face falls, his eyes darting between Harry and Tom. Without another word, he turns and disappears into the crowd, leaving Harry with a strange sense of unease. Tom releases him and hands Harry the refilled cup breaking his reverie.
"Thank you," Harry says in a embarrassed voice, bringing the glass to his lips and downing half of it in one go, his heart pounding in time with the music.
"Brave, aren't you to trust a complete stranger to make you a drink,"
Harry laughs feeling a little manic.
"Stupid, others would say," Harry says thinking of Draco.
"I don't know I like your spark," Tom says snatching the same glass from Harry's hand and taking a long drink.
"Are you from here?" Harry finds himself asking, wanting to solve the mystery of this strange boy.
Tom smiles as if enjoying a private joke and says, "I was once. Now I prefer to travel, I've seen most of the world, but Italy was always the closest thing that felt like home,"
Harry raises his eyebrows. Sure in Phoenix people travel, but in Forks, he found it hard to meet someone who had left the state.
"How old are you?"
Another private smile.
"Nineteen,"
"You don't miss your family, traveling as much as you do?" Harry asks, thinking about the summer he spent in Paris dancing for the Paris Opera Ballet.
He had missed Sirius fiercely.
"They are dead," the boy says in a bland voice.
Harry feels his chest constrict in sympathy.
"I'm sorry,"
Tom gives him a curious look, as if observing a interesting chemical reaction.
"Why are you sorry? Did you kill them?" he asks with a dark twinkle in his eyes.
Harry blanches and he forces out the words, "Of course, not"
Tom laughs. Its cold and empty.
"Then why feel anything at all?"
"Because…" Harry starts to say and then stops, unsure how to describe the very nature that calls him to empathize with a complete stranger.
To him it just feels as instinctive as breathing. So he says,
"Death is sad,"
"What a odd way of thinking about a natural phenomenon for all living things," Tom says tilting his head to regard Harry.
Harry lost for how to reply to that, gives him a stiff shrug, his stomach bubbling with unease.
"Death can bring such a feeling of relief, of lightness to people who are experiencing immense pain or who are unable to cope with the heavy reality of the world. Even those seeking justice. Or at least hearing about my parents deaths felt like to me," Tom says with a distant quality to his voice.
"What?" Harry says in surprise, taking a step back.
Tom smirks at Harry's reaction as if he finds his disquiet amusing.
"My father abandoned me at an orphanage at a young age. My mother I learned died shortly after giving birth to me but my father still lived and I thought it suiting that death came for him as punishment for leaving me behind before his time. You see Harry I do not take rejection well,"
Harry feels a flare of sadness spark in him at Tom's tragic tale. To lose your mother before even meeting her and then to have your father leave him sounded like a fate much worse than his. His parents never would have left him if they could have stayed.
"What do you mean before his time?" Harry asks, catching on the one thing about the statement that failed to make sense.
Tom leans forward as if to share a scandalous secret and Harry does too, drawn to the light scent of lavender that drifts off him. Tom's lips brush his ear and Harry shudders.
"He was quite young when he died, for a man of his health and his death confused coroners across the country, because though he was drained of blood there was not a spot on him, nor did it appear that the body was moved post mortem,"
"Oh," is all Harry manages to say, while his mind is racing to make sense of Tom's words.
Tom leans back and smiles as if he just told Harry about his upcoming trip to Morocco. He swipes the drink from Harry's hand and takes another long drink. Harry's gaze fixates on the mesmerizing sight of Tom's neck, where the muscles visibly flex and relax with each movement. The sight gives him an irresistible urge to move his own body in time with the music, to fully lose himself in ecstasy. Malcolm always teased him about having no rhythm unless he is wearing his pointes, but in this moment, Harry is perfectly attuned to the pulsing beat of the music and Tom's captivating presence.
Tom smirks at Harry's admiration, the hint of danger in his eyes sending a thrill down Harry's spine. Tom holds his hand out to Harry in invitation,
"Do you want to dance?" he asks in a velvet voice.
"I don't know," Harry says hesitating.
Harry thinks this might be wrong, that he is betraying Cedric somehow, but the allure of Tom's sinister charm is strong. Cedric and him weren't dating, they hadn't even kissed…
"You came to this party to let go, didn't you? To have a little fun?" Tom asks, his voice low and seductive.
Harry nods, unable to tear his eyes away from Tom's mesmerizing gaze. Then he shakes his head trying to focus his thoughts.
"I came for Cedric," Harry says, a hint of guilt creeping into his voice. "He's my…friend,"
Tom chuckles, a dark sound that sends shivers down Harry's spine. "Oh what a pity it is to only be a friend," he murmurs, the words hanging heavy in the air between them.
"I don't know I'm a loyal friend," Harry says as Tom laces their fingers together.
Tom smirks again drawing Harry into the pulsating crowd and against his cool body, his hand weaving through Harry's wigged hair to cradle his head.
"I'm sure you are, Harry," he whispers, before he presses his lips against Harry's and he forgets his own name.
Tom's mouth morphs into a ravenous creature, ripping aside his collar and leaving a trail of hot kisses down Harry's neck. Waves of icy pleasure shoot through Harry as Tom's tongue ravishes his pulse point, causing it to beat erratically and his breath to come in desperate gasps. Tom's hands roam hungrily over Harry's back, muscular fingers digging under the fabric of his boxers and tracing teasing circles on the skin beneath. With each passing second, Tom's touch grows more daring, inching closer and closer until he is gripping one of Harry's cheeks firmly in his hand. His thumb presses into Harry's crease, teasing him before plunging inside to brush against his sensitive hole and then dragging it out again. Harry is kept on edge, trapped in Tom's grasp as he nibbles and sucks at his neck with a maddening intensity.
As Harry loses himself to Tom's touch, a part of his mind drifts to the bizarre events of the past few weeks. The impossible speed of the Cullen's, the strange golden eyes, Draco's inexplicable mood swings...
For a moment, the world seemed to tilt on its axis. Is he losing his mind? Or is there something more to Forks than met the eye?
Tom's voice cuts through his thoughts. "You seem distracted, Harry. Should I stop?"
Harry blinks, focusing on Tom's hypnotic gaze. "It's nothing," he lies, pushing away his doubts. "Just... enjoying the moment."
He startles when a hand touches his shoulder. Harry pulls away from Tom, his eyes widening as he sees Collin standing there, looking more manic and unhinged than ever before. His eyes are wild, his clothes disheveled, and his voice trembles with urgency.
"Harry," Collin pleads, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please, come talk to me. Alone."
Harry's initial instinct is to refuse, to pull away from the chaos that seems to follow Collin, in case he asks him out again. But as he looks into Collin's desperate eyes, a pang of pity tugs at his heart. Collin looks so lost and Harry is familiar with that feeling.
Reluctantly, Harry nods to Tom, excusing himself from the dance floor. Tom smirks knowingly, his gaze following Harry and Collin as they move away from the pulsating crowd.
As soon as they are out of earshot, Collin grabs Harry's arm with a surprising strength and pulls him out of the house and towards the dark woods that ring Cedric's backyard. Harry stumbles along, caught off guard by Collin's sudden burst of energy. His heart thuds in his chest as they enter the shadowed woods, eerie and foreboding in the moonlight. Branches claw at his skin, snagging on his clothes as Collin drags him deeper into the darkness.
"Collin, what's going on?" Harry asks, his voice tinged with a mix of concern and apprehension. The air grows colder, sending a shiver down Harry's spine as he struggles to keep up with Collin's frantic pace.
Collin's breath comes in ragged gasps as he drags Harry through the labyrinth of trees, their shadows stretching across the ground like ghostly fingers. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, the only sound the rustle of their footsteps and Collin's hoarse breathing. They finally come to a clearing, bathed in silvery moonlight that casts an otherworldly glow. Collin turns to face Harry, his eyes wide and pleading. There is something feral about him in this moment, as if he is driven by forces beyond his control.
"You don't understand, Harry," Collin gasps, his breath coming in ragged bursts. "I saw… I saw Draco standing on the other side of the parking lot before I lost control of my car. Then he is suddenly right next you. It's like he teleported or something. You should be dead."
"He was right next to me, Collin I promise, you just must be remembering it wrong. You look stressed it's been a long week, maybe you should call someone to take you home and sleep it off," Harry insists unsure why he is protecting Draco's lie, but unable to stop himself.
"You don't understand, I have proof, you just need to follow me," Collin says in a distressed voice, before taking off and running into the woods.
"Collin! Wait," Harry yells as he runs after him stumbling every few feet over the uneven ground.
Harry curses his alcohol-induced clumsiness as he stumbles over a root and crashes to the ground. He winces in pain as he feels a sharp rock slice through his palm. Struggling to get back on his feet, he realizes that Collin has disappeared into the darkness of the forest.
"Fucking great," he mutters, taking in his surroundings for the first time and realizing he is much further from the safety of Cedric's house than he thought.
He squints, trying to clear his blurry vision and curses again when he notices that his glasses are gone. He regrets wearing them just for his Austin Powers costume. He shuffles around some more not seeing the comforting light from the Cedric back porch light shining through the branches. He has no idea what direction to walk in to get back to it.
As his prey disappears into the woods with the weak human, Tom's charming smile morphs into a predatory grin. This is just too easy he thinks, like a wolf luring a trusting sheep from the herd. His red eyes gleam with anticipation as he melts into the shadows, stalking the tantalizing smell of their combined fear.
"Oh, my little lost lamb," Tom muses to himself listening to the frantic pitter patter of their heartbeat, "you have no idea what's in store for you. This game of ours is just beginning."
Tom licks his lips, savoring the moment. Soon, very soon, he would make his move. And his prey's pathetic life would shatter.
"Draco?" Cedric asks in a confused voice as he regards Draco and Luna standing on his porch in the dark.
"Hello, Cedric, we came for your party," Luna says in a bright soothing voice, that causes Cedric's eyes to glaze over.
Draco gives Cedric a dazzling smile, as he pushes his way past the brunette, his face so full of life still causing Draco discomfort.
"Thank you so much for inviting us to your gathering, Diggory," he says, in his lulling voice that always works wonders on Potter, as he shoves the three bottles of expensive wine from their cellars into his arms.
Blaise told him it is essential to bring alcohol to any party you plan on crashing. Cedric seems too stunned to protest as they disappear into the crowd.
Draco's gaze scans the pulsing crowd, his sharpened senses picking up on every movement and sound. His sharp gray eyes dart from group to group, searching desperately for a familiar messy-haired figure amidst the throngs of costumed party-goers. The overwhelming noise and laughter only add to his growing frustration and concern as he navigates through the lively gathering, Luna at his side.
"Any sign of him?" Luna asks.
Draco shakes his head, a scowl deepening on his face. "He should be here by now. Something's not right."
Luna's eyes glaze over, her body going rigid. In her mind's eye, he sees flashes of Potter in the woods, surrounded by darkness. A pair of gleaming red eyes appear, and then... nothing. Luna gasps, coming back to herself.
"Draco," she whispers urgently, "I sense danger, but it's hard to tell where it is coming from,"
Draco's fists clench at his sides. The urge to tear through the house, to track Potter's scent, is almost overwhelming. But he forces himself to maintain his human facade, even as worry gnaws at his insides. If something else kills Potter before he can…
"We need to find him," Draco mutters, more to himself than Luna. "Before it's too late."
Spotting Cedric by the refreshment table, Draco strides over, his eyes locking onto Cedric's with intensity.
"Diggory, have you seen Swan around?"
Draco's tone is clipped, betraying his unease.
Cedric glances around before turning back to Draco, a puzzled expression on his face.
"I haven't seen him since the beginning of the night," Cedric replies, furrowing his brow.
"Some girl named Bella has been clinging to me and won't let me talk to anyone else. I just got away from her. Doesn't seem to get the message that I'm gay," he adds with an irritated edge to his voice.
A girl with wild black hair and familiar face flits through his mind, but he pushes the image away as unimportant. Draco's jaw clenches in worry as he tries to parcel through the many scents mixing in the air. He catches a faint scent of Potter on the wall next to the bathroom mixed with a strange but familiar scent. Luna appears behind him her face creased with the same defeat he feels.
Luna's eyes suddenly widened, her body going rigid. Draco turns to her, instantly alert.
"What is it?" he demands.
"Other vampires," Luna whispers, her voice barely audible over the music. "They're here, Draco,"
Draco's eyes dart around the room, his nostrils flaring as he tries to catch an unfamiliar scent. "Are you sure?"
Luna nods solemnly. "We should be careful. The future is... uncertain."
Draco hesitates, torn between investigating Luna's vision and continuing his search for Potter. In the end, his concern for Potter wins out.
"Keep an eye out," he told Luna. "I need to find Swan."
Before Luna has a chance to a scream rips through the air. Draco barely controls himself enough to stay at a human paced run as he dashes out of the house and into the forest tracking Potter's scent.
Draco runs through the dense forest, his heart pounding in his chest as he follows the trail of Harry's scent mingled with a metallic tang of blood. The trees loom overhead, casting eerie shadows in the darkness as he rush deeper into the unknown.
As he pushes through a thicket of brambles, Draco's sharp eyes catch a glint of silver on the ground ahead. He skids to a halt, his breath hitching in his throat at the sight of Harry's spectacles on the ground. Panic seizes Draco's chest, and he rushes forward, dropping to his knees to pick them up. They reek of him. He carefully slips them into his pocket and follows Harry's scent, all the while picturing Harry's dead body laying broken on the ground while a vicious vampire sucks greedily from his neck. Draco growls like an animal as he pushes through the foliage. He starts to see red until he hears branches breaking up ahead and spies Harry's ungainly form.
"Swan," he breathes as he rushes to him and wraps his hand around his boney shoulder, spinning Potter around to face him.
Potter yelps in fear as his eyes meet Draco's, his heart beating in his chest like a hunted rabbit's.
"Draco?" Potter asks tentatively, seeming to relax slightly.
Draco smiles in amusement at Potter's ability to recognize him even without his spectacles.
"Missing these?" he jokes as he slides them back on Potter's face.
But as Potter moves to adjust them, Draco's gaze falls upon the gaping wound on his hand, dripping with blood. The metallic scent hits him like a punch to the gut, overwhelming and intoxicating. He takes a step back, grimacing as the smell assaults him worse than it ever did on that first day in the too warm classroom. Draco feels his control slipping. His vision tunneling as he focuses solely on the crimson liquid seeping from Potter's palm. The monster inside him roars, demanding to be sated.
"Draco, are you okay?" Potter asks in a nervous voice, taking a step closer to him.
Draco clenches his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he fights against his instincts. He can feel the venom pooling in his mouth, his muscles coiling, ready to spring. It would be so easy to give in, to taste just one more drop...
"Draco?" Potter asks again, the worry in his voice more pronounced as his hand reaches out for Draco's shoulder.
No, he thinks, forcing himself to take a step out of Potter's reach and hold his breath. He focuses on Potter's face, his bright green eyes, his beating heart, anything but the blood.
"You need to cover your cut, it could get infected," Draco says in a strained voice.
"But if I bind it, it definitely will get infected," Potter argues.
"Lick it," Draco finds himself saying.
Potter looks at him like he has lost his head.
"What?"
"Human salvia is a natural disinfectant," Draco recites from on of Severus's medical journals he started reading when he ran out of chemistry textbooks.
Harry gives him a doubtful stare, as he raises his hand to his mouth and gives a tentative lick.
"Hurry up, Potter," Draco growls, mesmerized by the way the red droplets stain the tip Potter's wet tongue.
Draco's urgency must have finally sunk into Potter because he rushes to clean up the blood and dirt, his movements quick and efficient. He tears off a piece of his costume fabric to wrap around the wound, but cheap material barely holds together. Draco growls in frustration, the sound causing Potter to jump and drop the flimsy fabric. Draco stomps forward and tears off a long strip of his costum and snatches up Potter's hand. He wraps the fabric tightly around wound before tying it off.
He takes a tentative breath, the scent of blood still lingers in the air, but thankfully he no longer feels the overwhelming urge to attack and drain Potter. Taking this moment to calm down, Draco finally drops Potter's hand and takes in Potter's appearance. He is dressed in a cheap polyester dark blue velvet suit, with a ghastly ruffled lacy spilling out at the cuffs and the collar. A wild reddish-brown wig sits atop his head, even messier than his usual hair. And perched on his nose are a pair of clunky black glasses that Draco remembers seeing in Potter's room during one of his "visits". The whole ensemble remains him of Weasley at the Yule Ball.
"What are you wearing?" Draco asks choking on a snicker.
"You're one to talk, you always look like you are wearing a costume," Potter says looking red and flustered.
"There's nothing wrong with my clothes," Draco snaps.
Potter's dazed look turns into a wicked grin.
"Sure if we were still living in the fifteen century. Anyways how could you not know that I'm Austin Powers? I am the American equivalent of your James Bond."
"James who?"
"James Bond, 007, the best secret agent in the MI6,"
"You're a spy, how fitting," Draco scoffs, "And what do you mean by, my James Bond?"
"You are English, aren't you?" Potter asks, looking confused.
"Well I am certainly not American," Draco huffs, deciding once he gets home to look up this ridiculous Austin Powers character already knowing Bond will prove better .
A thoughtful expression crosses Potter's face and Draco wants to make a quip about how rare it is, but realises this isn't true. Potter in this world is much smarter than the one in his world. Without a doubt due to growing up without Granger to do everything for him, forcing him to work for himself.
"I wonder what you would sound like as an American," Potter says, sounding genuinely curious.
"Is that a kink of yours, Swan," Draco asks before he considers his words.
Before Potter can answer another scream pierces the air, this one shorter and cut off after just a few seconds. Potter meets his eyes and takes off after the sound before Draco can grab him at a human speed. Draco has no choice but to follow Potter or reveal his secret and tackle him. Minutes later Potter bursts into a clearing ahead of him and stops, his breath coming in quick shallow gasps. Draco slips in beside him and freezes at the smell permeating the air.
The putrid smell of burnt flesh and blood that he wishes he didn't know so well.
Collin's lifeless body hangs from a sturdy tree branch, swaying gently in the breeze like a macabre pendulum. The rope around his neck has left deep, raw imprints in his scorched skin, evidence of the intense agony he must have endured. His emaciated frame is a gruesome sight to behold, with tattered shreds of muscle hanging from his bones like torn fabric. Blood drips steadily onto the ground below, pooling at the base of the tree. The once vibrant shock of hair on his head is now completely gone, revealing charred and blistered flesh where his eyes should be. His lips are burned off, exposing gnarled and blackened teeth in a grotesque grin. Through his mangled hands, nailed in place with rusted spikes, hangs a crudely written sign that bears a chilling message: "Will you go to Prom with me, Harry?" The scene reeks of death and despair, a stark contrast to the innocent teenage romance it was meant to represent.
A broken sob breaks through Potter's throat and his shaking knees give out under him. Draco rushes forward before he falls to the ground and catches him under his arms.
Draco wraps his arms around Potter, a sense of protectiveness swelling within him as he tries to shield him from the horrific scene.
"Don't look, Potter," he whispers urgently, trying to spare him from the ghastly sight by pulling his head against his chest. "Stay with me."
With a firm grip on Potter's trembling body, Draco takes a cautious step back, his keen eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger. He can't afford to let his guard down, but he also knows he can't stay rooted in this spot forever. The distant sound of approaching footsteps sets him on edge as he frantically tries to come up with a plan. Suddenly, the shrill scream of terror pierces the air, followed by more anguished cries that rise in intensity. Accusatory glares fixate on Potter's hunched figure, their harsh whispers cause Potter to flinch.
People rush into the clearing as their curiosity overrides their fear. Draco feels himself being pushed and pulled by the crowd, his head spinning from the influx of scents.
Voices rise in a cacophony of shock and horror:
"Oh my god, is that a body?"
"Someone call the police!"
"It can't be real, right? This has to be a prank by the twins..."
Draco tunes them out, he knows this is no prank.
"Cullen?" one of the partygoers sneers, pointing an accusing finger at Draco. "What are you doing here? Wait is that Harry?"
"Doesn't that sign say Harry?"
"Do you think it was him?"
"It must be! Remember Collin asked him out last week and Harry turned him down."
"Didn't Harry yell that he rather go out with anyone, but Collin and that he would kill him if he tried again?"
"Yeah, I think that's what Rita wrote,"
"That's why Harry's been missing for so long. He must have murdered him for revenge when Collin tried again at the party!"
"Poor Collin!"
"Poor Cedric, his land will be haunted now!"
"What a freak!"
"I always knew there was something off about him…"
Draco tenses as the whispered accusations spiral into something far from the truth.
He shakes his head vehemently. "No, it's not him," he insists, his voice shaking. "I don't know who did this, but it's not him,"
A murmur of disbelief ripples through the crowd as more people approach, their faces twisted with horror and disgust. Police sirens blare in the distance and Draco figures someone must have called the them. Draco can feel the weight of their judgement, but he knows he can't let it show.
He turns his attention to the grisly scene before them, his eyes taking in every detail. The once vibrant emotions in the word "Prom" belied by the dark words scrawled beneath.
His heart sinks further as his mind registers the true nature of the scene - it's a trap. Someone wants to frame Potter for Collins' death.
With a frenzied rage in his eyes, Potter's uncle storms into the forest. His presence is immediately reinforced by a team of grim-faced police officers, their strong arms wrapping tightly around Potter's struggling form. They yank him away from Draco with brutal force, their grip unyielding, Potter's voice hoarse as he screams that he's innocent. Draco rushes to his side, pleading for his release. But it is all in vain as Potter's uncle barks orders at the top of his lungs, commanding the officers to take them all into custody. Granger, Weasley, and the fierce Weaselette put up a valiant fight against the overpowering cops, but their efforts only result in being forcefully restrained and dragged alongside Potter, their fate now intertwined with his.
Draco follows the cop car discreetly through the woods, listening to Potter's quiet sobs as a cuffed Weasley leans against him in comfort. Potter mutters it wasn't me, it wasn't me in a desperate voice over and over again. Once in the station Potter and Weasley are thrown in one cell and Granger and Weaselette in another. They interrogate Potter for hours but after they conclude Potter will only keep telling them the same information they are forced to stop. Weasel, Granger, and Weaselette are equally tight lipped, only giving away the barest of facts to the cops questions about Harry's past history with violence and his motives to kill Collin. Draco hears something about them keeping the group overnight for resisting arrest and underaged drinking. He decides that there's nothing else he can do and heads home.
He comes back to a mad house, not dissimilar to the one in the forest.
"This is your doing!" Pansy accuses as he walks into the living room to see them all gathered around on the couches, with blank faces.
"So I guess the news has already reached you," He says with a sneer and a glare at a guilty faced Luna.
"Don't bother blaming her, Draco, father was already called to identify the body and the cause of death," Theo says in a edged voice.
"And?"
"It was vampires," Blaise says in a somber voice, his usual jovial spirit crushed under the air of death in the air.
"How do you know?" Draco demands wanting so badly for it to be wrong.
"The body was completely drained despite there not being a speck of blood at the crime scene. The wrists were slashed and the body was burned. Common signs of an expert hunter, who leaves little evidence. The humans will assume the blood burned up or shake their heads at the lack of it but won't pursue it further. Then there's the clear signs of the venom, invisible to the human eye, but not to our superior senses. Father and mother have been studying the effect of vampire venom for years to attempt to develop medicine, so it's not something they would miss even with all the fire damage to the body," Pansy snaps.
"How is this my fault?" Draco demands.
"You've driven other vampires here! Made them curious of our presence and your interactions with a human, just ask Luna," Pansy hisses.
Draco turns to Luna.
"It's hard to tell precisely what drew them hear, but they are surrounded by visions of curiosity and a desire to linger here. Their future seems weakly entangled with Harry's but it's so light that it could change at any moment. It could be the result of you saving him from the car crash and not Harry himself. It feels like they could decide to move along at any point and they don't seem to have a plan for any future actions," Luna says.
"My answer remains the same, I am not leaving him," Draco mutters, before, leaving the room to let the chaos erupt behind him.
He trusts in the story to guide it back to staying in Forks, he knows that it can't continue on unless him and Potter are near each other. He rushes up to his room and slams the door shut behind him. As he collapses onto his bed.
He tries not to think about Potter, locked up in a cold, dark cell with only the Weasel for company. The fragments of the conversation he overheard during the interrogation replay in his mind like a broken record. The sharpness of the police officers' voices as they demanded that Potter confess to his alleged crimes echoes through his head. He can almost feel the roughness of their hands on Potter's body as they searched him for any signs of wrongdoing. It reminds him of when the Aurors interrogated his mother and himself after his father's arrest. The overwhelming sense of humiliation and dehumanization still lingers in his memory, along with the fear that they would also take his mother away and lock her up. He shakes off the memories and focuses on the future and what it may bring for Potter and himself. He can't shake off the feeling that there is more to it all.
Then he remembers why that face of the rogue vampire looked so familiar to him. It is the same face from the pictures his mother used to show him from his childhood. The young face of his aunt Bella.