Draco's heart pounds as he creeps through the shadowy corridors of Hogwarts, his footsteps muffled by a carefully cast silencing charm. Ahead, the tall figure of Albus Dumbledore moves with surprising swiftness for a man of his age.

For weeks, Draco has been searching for a weakness, any vulnerability in the old wizard's routine. The weight of his mission presses down on him, making each breath feel like a struggle.

Dumbledore pauses at an intersection, his long silver beard gleaming in the moonlight streaming through a high window. Draco presses himself against the cold stone wall, hardly daring to breathe.

The Headmaster seems distracted, muttering to himself as he reaches into his pocket. Draco's eyes widened as Dumbledore pulls out a small object, turning it over in his gnarled hand.

Suddenly, a loud crash echoes from a distant corridor. Dumbledore's head snaps up, his attention diverted. In his haste to investigate, the small object slips from his fingers, landing on the stone floor with a soft clink.

Draco watches, scarcely believing his luck, as Dumbledore hurries away without noticing the dropped item. He waits, counting to thirty in his head, before creeping forward.

There, on the floor, lays a simple black stone set in an old ring. It looks unremarkable, yet Draco feels a strange pull towards it. He glances down the corridor where Dumbledore has disappeared, then back at the ring.

With a quick movement, he scoops up the ring, surprised by its warmth in his palm. Whatever this is, it has to be valuable to Dumbledore. And that makes it valuable to Draco's mission.

As he pockets the ring and slips away into the darkness, Draco can't shake the feeling that he's just changed the course of everything. If only he knew how right he is.

At ten minutes to eight, Harry emerges from the Gryffindor common room and meets Luna in front of the bronze eagle knocker that guards the entrance to Ravenclaw tower. She greets him with her usual dreamy smile, her radish earrings swaying gently from her ears. Her robes are a patchwork of fabrics, each one vibrant and unique as if she had sewn them together. He can't help but imagine Malfoy wearing a similar outfit, their blond hair and sharp features making them look like siblings. To avoid any misunderstanding, he stifles a laugh and smiles warmly at Luna instead.

"Your outfit is as unique as you, Luna," Harry says for lack of anything better to say.

He really is pants with girls. Miraculously Luna beams softening any resemblance she bears to Malfoy and says,

"Your outfit suits you too Harry."

Harry smiles. Hermione helped him pair his black dress robes with an emerald undershirt that she said brought out his eyes. She also taught him some of the spells she used to wrangle her hair into place during the Yule Ball and let him borrow her Sleazy Hair potion. He must admit he looks pretty good for him.

"Thanks," Harry says as they make their way to the party.

Harry immediately feels overwhelmed when they step into the party and Slughorn yells as he embraces Harry,

"Harry my boy! So glad you could make it."

Every eye in the place looks at him with great interest and people start clamouring around him to talk to him. Harry does his best to smile and nod at everyone, trying not to grimace as they ask insensitive questions about his scar and what he remembers from that night. They poke and prod at him like a museum display until they realise they won't get anything interesting out of him. Girlish giggling draws his attention away from his fervent admirers, his eyes catching on a umber-skinned boy that makes his mouth unhinge. The boy, as if noticing his effect, gives him a knowing smirk, his fingers playing with the ends of his garnet ponytailed hair that looks like someone soaked in blood. All the while Harry drowns in his deep reddish-brown eyes that seem to take the measure of his soul.

"Oh wow! That's a vampire. I don't think I've ever seen one in person. They are supposed to be very alluring, but he looks pretty boring to me." Luna says breaking the spell on him.

Harry laughs as he steals his eyes back from the devilish beast, only Luna would see a dangerous vampire and call him boring. The vampire seems to have heard her and frowns in response.

"Oh, Harry that is Sir Hippolytus, he is the leading expert on

Gulping Plimpies. Let's go greet him." Luna says in an excited voice, pulling him further into the crowd.

During the first half of the Slug Club party, Harry uses Luna as a shield to keep people away from him. People who come up to talk to him get thrown off by the strange things that come out of her mouth and quickly find other conversation partners. This works out well until Lady Equoren, a centaur decides to stick around starting a discussion about a celestial story involving two snakes and a hunter that Hermione would find fascinating but goes right over his head. Harry endures it until Luna turns to him with a smile and says,

"Draco is a Gemini."

"Okay," Harry says with a shrug, thinking this is the only safe response. He didn't want to know what Luna might say if he said I know.

He still feels a little wary about the topic of Malfoy around her after the incident in the Great Hall on their first day back. The centaur looks at Harry with curiosity not usually seen in their in humans, especially wizards.

"You two must be friends then." the centaur guesses.

"Yes, Luna is a great friend," Harry says only half listening.

The centaur looks at him in confusion, "I meant the human named Draco. Luna informed me that you are a Leo. Leos and Gemini are known for the tight bonds they form between each other."

Harry startles at the mention of him and Malfoy being friends. It's the strangest idea ever, belonging better in an alternate universe.

"We are not friends," Harry spits out when he recovers himself, "We are nemeses."

"Are you referring to enemies?"

Harry frowns at the distant way that word portrays their relationship. Voldemort and he were enemies, but Malfoy and him were something much more complex.

"It's more personable than just two people fighting against each other," Harry says.

"I'm not familiar with this human concept, then." the centaur says with a bland face.

Harry shrugs, not sure how to describe to an outsider their volatile relationship that his closest friends at times struggle to understand.

"Draco is the moon to Harry's sun," Luna says simply.

To Harry, those strange words make little sense unless she means that Draco is bound for a path of darkness with Voldemort and Harry is bound to a path of light with Dumbledore. It seems to clear things up for the centaur though because she nods, and they fall back into an easy discussion about the stars. Harry listens for a moment before giving in to boredom. He drifts away and finds a closed door that opens into an empty sitting room filled with couches. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves cover the walls with cracked leather covers. He feels his heart rate slowing down and lets the noise of the party fade into the background as he wanders around the room exploring the contents of the shelves and nursing his butterbeer.

"I could help you with your little problem." a soft voice whispers in his ear, causing cool breath to caress his neck.

Harry jerks, dropping his drink with a smash of glass and turns in surprise, taking in the stranger who regards him with a dark expression of mirth. His eyes follow the lines of thin, tight black pants and a high-collared white frilly shirt that emphasises the dark colour of his skin. Soft garnet braids tumble from his head and frame red eyes. Harry instantly recognizes him as the boy surrounded by all the girls when he and Luna first walk into the party. He wonders which 'little problem' the vampire refers to. Voldemort, or his failing grade in Defense. The raw uncontrollable power slamming at his inside, desperate to get free, his all-consuming loneliness despite being surrounded by people on all sides.

"I believe I owe you another drink," the boy says with a soft laugh.

The mischievous boy scrunched up his face in disgust at the mess before darting forward and snatching the wand out of Harry's pocket with lightning speed. With a flick of his wrist, the shattered pieces of glass began reassembling themselves into the shape of a bottle. The once-spilled liquid flowed effortlessly back into its container, leaving the floor spotless. Handing a stunned Harry the newly restored bottle, the boy's cold fingers brushed against his, causing him to shiver.

"You are the vamp-ire" Harry stutters.

"That's what I am, not who I am, sweet one," the vampire says, extending his bloodless hand, "My name is Sanguini Ashe, it is a pleasure to meet you, Harry."

"Don't call me that," Harry growls.

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he realises that maybe it is not a good idea to back-talk an all-powerful vampire wizard without a wand, but as Hermione says foresight is not one of his strengths.

To his luck, the vampire just smiles, instead of draining him.

"This is where you say the pleasure is all mine." the vampire mock whispers at him, in a laughing voice, "Or have human customs changed since I last spoke to one?"

Harry frowns at him as he hesitantly takes his hand, a shock of cold goes up his arm and he yanks it back. He pulls it to his chest, with a wary expression on his face. He longs to cast a warming charm, or better yet a shield.

"I do apologise, I forgot about our difference of temperature and the discomfort your kind feels upon touching us," Sanguini says with a small smile impish on his luscious predator lips, making Harry doubt him.

Harry's distrust is further sparked the longer it takes the vampire to return his wand.

"Give me my wand back," Harry mutters.

Sanguini shakes his head as if to say no can do. Harry seethes in frustration as he lunges to grab it, but the vampire holds it out of reach, setting it on a high shelf.

"You don't need to defend yourself. I just want to talk to you."

Harry glowers, not believing him for a second and crosses his arms against his chest.

"What do you want?" Harry asks, feeling cagey beneath those all-seeing eyes.

"To offer myself as an ally sweet one and to grant you a boon." the vampire says in a mysterious voice.

Harry regards him with suspicious eyes.

"What sort of boon?"

"A mutually beneficial one," Sanguini says, taking a step forward towards Harry, the fabric of his pants straining against the powerful muscles in his legs with every movement.

Harry in turn takes a step back.

"Why would you, a dark creature, want to align yourself with me?" Harry asks, with wary curiosity.

"Dark times are approaching for humans, and that affects my kind when you are our main food group."

Harry feels a thrill of unease, pounding through him and takes another step back. His eyes narrow, not appreciating being called food. Sanguini tracks his movements with a playful smile.

"I still don't understand what it is you are offering me?"

Sanguini takes another step forward and Harry moves back again in a strange dance.

"I think it would be better if I showed you, preferably somewhere out of sight of so many students, sweet one," the vampire purrs.

Harry takes one wild guess at what the boy is offering. Or more likely what he wants from Harry.

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm good," Harry says, trying to move away, back towards the crowds of people.

Sanguini lunges at Harry, trapping him against the dungeon wall with a hollow thud. He cages him in with his overpowering strength, slamming his hands on either side of Harry's head and pressing their bodies together in a suffocating grip. Despite feeling his magic surge to protect him, Harry knows he is defenseless without his wand - risking not only his own life, but the entire school's destruction if his powers overwhelm him. Sanguini hungrily sniffs at Harry's neck, causing him to writhe while the vampire groans against his skin,

"Mmmm…. You smell like golden syrup and butter cookies."

"Get off me." Harry hisses in a hoarse voice as his own senses get assaulted by the mixed scents of coppery blood and roses.

A sharp growl cuts through the scene causing them both to freeze.

"I knew you fancied dangerous redheads, but isn't a vampire a bit overkill, Potter?" Malfoy draws in a lazy voice from the doorway.

Malfoy's body is tense, coiled like a venomous snake ready to strike. His face contorts with possessive rage as if daring anyone else to touch his prized possession. Harry can't help but think of his cousin Dudley, who would fly into a violent frenzy whenever someone challenged him. It's a familiar pattern that makes him wonder how Malfoy would react to the realization of their shared similarities.

The vampire raises his eyebrows at Malfoy in amusement, his nostrils flared. His face moved into an exaggerated look of disappointment.

"I didn't realise you were spoken for, sweet one. I was looking forward to getting to know you better, but such is the way of life. A waste though really, I'm not sure how I'll replace you." the vampire says in a mournful voice, a lingering hand running down the side of Harry's chest.

Malfoy follows the movement with narrowed eyes looking like he wants to rip the limb clear out of Sangini's body. It's a strange emotion for the Slytherin Ice Prince to wear in regard to Harry, almost like he cares. Then Harry remembers how much of a blood purist he is and thinks Malfoy must be angry that a wix is mingling with in his eyes inferior blood.

Or is it the fact that it is a boy that presses up against Harry that bothers Malfoy. Harry grew up around muggles who tormented anyone with different tastes, so wix like Malfoy being the same way wouldn't surprise him.

Sanguini laughs, leaning closer to Harry until their chests touch.

"I'm not-" Harry starts to say, before Sanguini cuts him off, running a cool finger across Harry's lips.

He recoils under the vampire's gentle caress, his skin crawling with a mix of fear and desire. No one has ever touched him like this before, and as much as he tries to resist, he finds himself getting lost in the crimson haze of his gaze. Malfoy stiffens, his body radiating tension as if he struggles to keep himself in check in.

"Shush, the adults are talking, sweet one." Sanguini murmurs.

Harry scowls and Malfoy snorts, trying to look causal and uncaring and failing.

"Drain him dry if you want, but Potter won't make a very good meal, he's too malnourished, and skips too many meals. He's a joke of a Saviour when it comes to taking care of himself." Malfoy says in an unaffected voice.

"That's rich coming from you. When's the last time you ate, Malfoy?" Harry mutters.

They both ignore him.

"As curious as I am to see how you would react to someone else sampling his blood, young one, I don't think I will tempt it," Sanguini says with a smirk, cupping the back of Harry's neck with a cool hand, his thumb pushing against his pulse point, "A bit of advice moving forward if you do not want others to go after his neck, consider not leaving it so bare."

Harry feels the suppressed strength behind the gesture and knows it would take nothing for the vampire to gouge a hole in his neck. Malfoy must sense it too because he stalks across the carpeted floor and snatches up Harry's hand, squeezing it tight. Sanguini releases Harry with a light chuckle and Malfoy yanks Harry close to his side. He almost falls into Malfoy but his battle-practised feet keep him from tripping. Malfoy reaches up with his superior height and grabs Harry's wand from the shelf before dragging him through the room, muttering a vampire, really Potter, could you be more of an imbecile the entire way? If Harry stopped and thought for a moment, he would have fought against Malfoy's punishing grip but the events around him swirled too fast for him to consider a sane thought.

"We will be waiting for you, Draco, when this all ends." the vampire says, giving Harry a sad look, the first genuine expression to grace his features, "You belong with your kind."

The shock of the statement brings Harry back to himself. He will never like Malfoy or ever reconsider being friends with him, but he resents the clear ownership in that statement. It reminds him of the expectations of the Order of the Phoenix pressing down on him and before he knows it the words that he never musters up the courage to speak for himself slip out of his mouth.

"He's not yours to claim." Harry hisses, as he tries to pull out of Malfoy's grasp.

Malfoy tightens his hold and Harry stops fighting lest he lose the rest of his circulation. Malfoy shoves his reclaimed wand into Harry's hand and pulls him the rest of the way out of the room.

The vampire's responding hollow laugh follows him out. Malfoy, so intent on leaving the room, doesn't notice a familiar dark-skinned individual in front of him until he runs smack into him. Zabini turns to berate whoever dared to knock into him and then spots Malfoy. His eyes widened in shock.

"Draco, what are you doing here?" Zabini's suspicious voice asks.

Malfoy immediately drops Harry's hand and steps away from him, in an obvious attempt to put distance between them.

"Crashing the party of course," Malfoy says in the same bored drawl as before.

"Did Potter sneak you in?"

A wicked smile spreads across Malfoy's mouth, "No Potter has been too occupied offering his neck up as a hors d'oeuvre to a vampire. Shame I walked in before it finished him off."

"Oh, piss off, Malfoy, he wasn't going to eat me," Harry says trying to convince himself almost as much as he is Malfoy.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Malfoy says with a wink.

Zabini watches their exchange with a fascination that Harry knows bodes badly for future him. Malfoy scans the party with disinterest and yawns.

"As riveting as this is, I have better things to do," Malfoy says with an apathetic smirk.

He sends Harry a parting glance as he walks out of the party, tossing over his shoulder,

"Try not to attract the most dangerous thing in the room while I am gone, Potty."

Harry is too stunned to come up with a proper reply.

"That was strange," Harry says to no one in particular.

Zabini narrows his eyes at him.

"Gryffindors," he says with a shake of his head, "I pity the whole lot of you."

He walks away leaving Harry even more confused than he started.

Draco's blood boils with rage, each step he takes away from the vampire only increases his desire to unleash his anger on something, anything. He paces back and forth in front of the come-and-go room, imagining it as a duelling room. When the door appears, he yanks it open with such force that it nearly breaks off its hinges. Slamming it shut behind him, he can already feel the adrenaline in his veins. Without hesitation, targets materialize on the wall in front of him - each one adorned with a braided wig of blood-red hair and sharp, fangs. A wicked smile spreads across Draco's face as he reaches for his wand and stalks towards them. It's almost comical, really - the supposed Saviour of the wizarding world nearly brought down by a mere creature of the night. But in this moment, all Draco can focus on is exacting revenge. His grip tightens on his wand as he envisions the monster teasing its elongated fangs along Potter's unmarked throat. Sensing Potter trembling under the unnatural press of his body. Hearing Potter sound more and more aroused with each hitched breath and tell-tell whimper. The thought makes Draco growl with frustration and shakes his head vigorously, trying to rid himself of the sickening images.

Potter better thank his lucky stars that it benefits him to keep the Chosen One alive for now, otherwise Draco doesn't like Potter's chances of making it to the end of the year. Draco brandishes his wand as he stands across from the targets, letting his anger burn through him as he mulls over what spell he wants to use. Then he remembers the last spell Aunt Bella taught him during the summer holidays.

"Quinque pilas ignis." he barks, his mouth a hard determined line.

Five fireballs appear in the air in front of him, and with a wave of his wand, they hurtle towards their targets. They go up like flash paper, missing only the unnatural screams of the real creatures. He imagines one day soon he will get the opportunity to use this spell on Potter. Then he will know the consequences of wronging a Malfoy.

Draco sneaks back into the Common Room at midnight, greeted by the not so surprising sight of Blaise and Pansy cuddled up on one of the couches, snogging. Draco gives them a disgusted glance wondering how they summon the desire for that in the middle of a war. When they see Draco they break apart neither one looking embarrassed and narrow their eyes at him.

"Where have you been?" Blaise asks in a suspicious voice, "The party ended hours ago."

"That is none of your business," Draco says in a cold cut-off voice.

Pansy casts a silencing charm around them before she asks her next question even though they are the only ones here. One could never be too careful in the Slytherin Common room.

She gives him an imploring look, "Draco, I know we don't always have the most Hufflepuff way of showing it, but we care about you and we are worried."

Draco feels the low simmer of icy anger in his stomach and resists the urge to hex her for her hypocrisy. He still remembers, fourth year after the Yule Ball all too vividly and how she told everyone what he got up to with the Durmstrang boy.

"I'm fine, I have everything under control," he says dismissively.

"But what do you have under control, Draco? Is it something to do with your family?" Pansy says.

She always reads him too well for comfort.

"My parents are as safe as they can be with our…. houseguests," he says in a snide voice.

"Potter then?" Blaise asks, "Don't think I forgot that I saw you at the party holding his hand."

Draco scowls in disgust remembering Potter's warm sweaty hand crushed between his fingers and his nervous green eyes. The one-time Draco needed Potter to be the quick-witted and self-reliant Saviour and he failed him.

"Is something going on between you two? Is that why you are always disappearing from meals at the same time and why you stop any other Slytherin from going near him?" Pansy asks, her voice dangerous and low.

Draco fights back a frozen laugh at how far off the mark they are.

"Congratulations you uncovered my nefarious plot, I'm buggering Potter. There's just something about that rat nest hair and those slime-green eyes that do it for me" Draco says in a frigid voice.

They relax noticeably and Draco scowls, irritated that a part of them really believed he could sink so low as to pursue the Boy Who Lived.

"Oh, we know how you feel about his features." Blaise says snorting despite himself, "You wrote that adorable little love note in second year and then tried to pass it off as the girl Weasley's."

"I did not."

"Oh, I remember that" Pansy says with relish, "Didn't it go something like, his eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,"

"His hair is as dark as a piece of coal." Blaise chimes in.

Blackboard Draco, mentally corrects him, then berates himself for playing along even in his head.

"I wish he was mine, he's really divine,"

"The hero who conquered the Dark Lord." Blaise finishes.

"How Potter ever convinced himself she wrote it is beyond me. All those cowardly plebeians call him You Know Who. Only one of us would be respectful enough to call him the Dark Lord."

Draco thinks the title is more out of fear than respect, but he keeps that thought to himself.

"You two laugh it up if you want, I am going to bed." he mutters, heading his dorm, as they both break out into a fit of giggles.

Once in the dorms Draco heads to the boy showers and lets the hot water pound into his skin washing away the scent of Potter that lingered in his nose. He massages his familiar spearmint scent shampoo into his hair letting himself relax for the first time tonight while surrounded by empty stalls. As he changes into his nightclothes he glances at Theo's bed. He still hasn't talked to him since that incident on the train, saying that he wants an apology first before he forgives him. It's such a Hufflepuff sentiment it makes Draco sick. Love he decides is the most dangerous emotion of all, posing an even greater risk of death than the Dark Lord himself.

A couple weeks pass with no new movements from Malfoy which leaves Harry on edge. Malfoy still sneaks around the castle disappearing off the map during meal times and late at night, but despite following him, Harry feels no closer than before to figuring out what he is up to. What's odder still are Malfoy's constant interventions anytime anyone on Slytherin tries to approach him or talk to him. On Thursday in Defense, Dora Murk of Slytherin eyed Harry hopefully when Snape called everyone to partner up, but then Malfoy swooped in to take her place.

Snape gave Malfoy a strange look, but otherwise left it alone. While Malfoy left him sweaty and bruised a niggling part of Harry felt like he held back for some reason. It happened again in the Great Hall before dinner when Owen Pandit, a Slytherin fifth year, asked him for help in Transfigurations and Malfoy stalked up to where they stood, insulted Harry's ability to tutor and demanded that he help Owen instead. Owen had tried to refuse, but after the look Malfoy gave him, he relented. Harry didn't know what to make of it to say the least. It was after Slug Club that the third strange occurrence took place.

"Harry my boy, why don't you stay back for a moment, I have something that might interest you." Professor Slughorn says as the rest of the Slug Club comes to a close.

Harry watches in envy as the rest of his classmates leave to return to their warm dorm rooms. Slughorn shuffles behind his desk, rearranging his no doubt large assortment of gifts to find the one he wants to show Harry. He pulls out a large wicker bastle stuffed to the brim with small glass bottles, each pictured with different desserts drawn on their colourful labels.

"An entire basket of limited edition butterbeer flavours!" Slughorn exclaims radiating excitement. He looks at Harry in expectation and Harry tries to summon some sort of emotion when all he wants to do is lay down. "Umm…cool," he says.

"Very cool, my boy! I have been collecting these for many, many years now, and my students often send them to me whenever they come across a new one during their travels." Slughorn continues.

Harry stifles a yawn wondering how long he needs to stay to be considered polite.

"Which ones are your favourite?" Harry asks, pretending to be interested.

"Oh, goodness, Mr. Potter, you can't just drink limited edition Butterbeer. It is for display only."

"Oh." Harry says, losing his last bit of hope that this staying back will at least get him a cool story to brag about, preferably to Malfoy.

Slughorn's eyes soften and he pulls one of the bottles from the basket handing it to Harry.

"I'm sure just one won't hurt. I've heard through the grapevine that you favour Treacle Tart."

Harry holds the bottle in curiosity, looking at his favourite tart pictured on the label. He pops open the cork and is amazed by the familiar flavour that slides down his throat.

Warm and sweet with an edge of something else, something almost minty with a hint of apple. Harry dumps the rest of it back in one gulp hoping it means he can leave sooner.

"Delicious." Harry says, licking the last drop off his lips. Slughorn nods with a creepy calculating smile.

"I agree, Mr. Potter. It was very generous of Mr. Malfoy to gift it to me. I think he will make a fine addition to the Slug Club."

"Mal-foy" Harry sputters, fighting to not gag on his name, the taste of the butterbeer sour on his tongue.

"Yes, yes fine boy, unfortunate what happened to his father." Slughorn tuts as if Malfoy senior caught a rare illness instead of winding up in prison.

His stomach gives an odd gurgle and Harry frowns at the sharp pain starting in his head, feeling lightheaded. He bets the contents of his Gringott vault that whatever Malfoy added to the drink caused it.

"Sir, please excuse me. I think I need to go to the hospital wing." Harry says, stumbling towards the door.

Slughorn jumps from his seat after him.

"Mr. Potter, allow me to accompany you…" Slughorn starts to say, before Harry's vision blurs.

His legs turn to jelly and he feels himself start to trip. He throws out his arms to catch himself, only to be caught against a strong warm chest emitting the most amazing smell. His heart, which started to feel slow and sluggish in his chest, picks up its pace, his blood pumping in his veins. Feeling overwhelmed, Harry buries his face in the soft fabric he rests on, breathing in the heady scent of spearmint, apples and the musk of dried plants. In the back of his mind, he registers how taunt the body he leans against feels.

"Mr. Malfoy, how peculiar we were just talking about you," Slughorn says in surprised delight.

At the name Malfoy, feels a deep longing awaken in him, like a magnet attaching him to the boy in front of him. He takes a steading gasp of air, the heavy scent from before further clouding his senses.

"Is he okay?" Malf-Draco, his mind corrects, asks, his forbidding voice tinged with concern.

Draco isn't mad at him, his mind assures him, just worried for his well-being. He wants to protect Harry and to do that Harry needs to give his full trust to him. Draco would never hurt him or lead him astray. Harry smiles in contentment at his thoughts, cuddling deeper into Draco's gentle warmth.

"He was feeling unwell and mentioned going to the hospital wing a second ago and I of course offered to accompany him, but when you walked in he collapsed." Slughorn answers.

Draco's arms tighten around him and the awakened part of Harry explodes with power, spreading giddy light throughout his body. He feels accepted and desired, and his prick grows heavy and stiff, as if wandering fingers caress against its length.

"Professor, allow me to escort him," Draco says in a quiet protective voice.

Harry's eyelashes flutter with the vibration of Draco's voice against his cheek and he opens his eyes to gaze in adoration at Draco's stubborn face. He feels a wave of oppressive warmth overwhelms his chest at the perfection of his features.

"I'm fine, Draco," Harry says, pushing himself away from him, ignoring the drunken way the room sways.

Draco's expression shutters for a moment, hate flashing across his features, before pulling into an effortless smile.

"Good, I was worried about you," Draco says reaching out a hand to clasp his shoulder, steadying him.

"Professor I will take P-Harry back to his dorm, he needs rest," Draco says, guiding Harry by the shoulder back to the door.

"How kind of you, Mr. Malfoy, I know he's in good hands with you," Slughorn says.

"A strange grin quirks on Draco's mouth and Harry finds it hard to look away.

"I'll make sure he gets back alright," Draco says his voice sounds more like a threat, as his fingers dig into Harry's shoulder.

Once the door shuts Draco sidles up against Harry and wraps his long thin fingers around the top of his tie. Harry feels his face grow hot as Draco slips it out of his shirt and starts stroking it.

"Potter," Draco purrs close to his ear.

"Hmm?" Harry manages to choke out, his nerve endings frying.

"I could tuck you safe and sound back into your dorm and that will be the end of it, or you could meet me after curfew for a….continuation of the evening," Draco says with a cruel seductive smile, his implication clear.

"Umm…" Harry says.

With his head full of thoughts of Draco he finds it difficult to concentrate.

"I don't want to pressure you, of course, pet. Think it over and if you decide to, meet me outside the Slytherin dorms after curfew." Draco croons into his ear in a silky sweet voice, the tip of his tongue tracing the shell of Harry's ear.

He releases Harry's tie and walks towards the tower, with Harry stumbling behind him, feeling a deep appreciation for the bagginess of wizard robes with every step.

Pansy swears as she rips the bottom of the page in the potions textbook in front of her with the force of her turning it. Blaise gives her an amused smile and Draco signs in frustration, pulling out his wand and repairing it.

"Are you still worried about Potter's potion being better than yours, dearest?" Blaise asks with a smirk tearing his eyes away from Greengrass's skirted bottom.

Pansy gives Greengrass's skirt an interested once over as she flips her hair. She meets Blaise's eyes and gives him a noncommittal shrug.

"If it was just once it would be a fluke, but Potter has bested me at Potions every class. It's inconceivable. He must be cheating; I must figure out how." Pansy growls flipping another page.

Draco would love to blame the improvement in Potter's grade on their senile professor, but even he sees no fault with Potter's potions.

He leans his head back against the emerald armchair letting the fire blazing in the Common room hearth soothe his nerves. Perfect or not his potion still affected Potter, enough to convince him he felt attraction towards Draco. He couldn't afford to lose focus on insipid mysteries now that he was so close to his prize. A first-year interrupts his thoughts by casting a shadow over his book. Draco raises an annoyed eyebrow at him, preening with satisfaction as he shudders in discomfort.

"Speak," Draco commands in a bored drawl.

"H-harry Potter is outside looking for you." the first-year whispers in his ear.

With a lazy flick of his wand, two galleons appear in the hand of the first year. His eyes grow as big as the coins, and he hurries to pocket them and get back to his friends. Draco shakes his head, so easy to impress these days he thinks in disdain. Blaise and Pansy look at him in suspicion.

"What was that about?" Blaise asks.

"There's a book in the library I want tonight, and I paid the firstie to watch the hallway until it was clear," Draco says.

Pansy narrows her eyes at him.

"Draco, if that were the case you would have paid the boy to take the risk of retrieving the book for you, just tell us what's going on. We can't help you if we are in the dark." Pansy insists.

Draco is tempted for a moment and then thinks of his parents' faces when he was assigned these impossible tasks and how he only has one slim way out. He knows he doesn't trust Pansy or Blaise not to take advantage of the knowledge to secure their own families against the Dark Lord's unpredictable moods. His only luck in this entire situation was Blaise's family's neutrality, Pansy's family's low ranking that kept them in the dark and Theo's father's ailing health that caused him to miss many meetings.

"Some tasks can't be trusted in other's hands," Draco says in a dismissive voice, his implied double meaning clear enough.

He ignores the hidden looks of hurt on their faces as he takes his time sliding off the chair and putting his books away. Pansy and Blaise's eyes stay glued to him the entire time. No need to appear too eager, he rather keep the saviour on his toes.

He looks around in confusion as he enters the empty corridor.

"Potter?" he hisses in a harsh whisper.

Potter appears out of thin air inches from him and Draco stumbles back with a curse. Potter smirks as he takes in Draco's stunned expression.

"Did I scare you, Draco?" Potter asks with a chuckle.

Draco glares and fights the urge to shoot a sting hex at his face, thinking it might not fit the behaviour of a paramour.

"That wasn't funny, Potter." Draco says scowling.

Potter only laughs.

"Potter? What happened to, pet?" Potter asks with a sarcastic pout.

Though Draco suspects it isn't completely put on, he remembers how red Potter turned at the use of the endearment earlier. A slow smile unfurls over Draco's face as anticipation and intrigue settle in next to his usual feelings of abhorrence. It had been a while since he got to enjoy yanking Potter's strings around in all this keeping him safe nonsense. Draco almost misses the familiarity of humiliating the Chosen One and no one ever said he couldn't have fun while he served up Potter on a silver platter to the Dark Lord. He closes the distance between them with a few steps forcing Potter to tilt his chin back to meet his eyes.

"You would like that, wouldn't you? For me to call you that again."

Draco asks in an enthralling voice leaning closer until his breath brushes Potter's lips. He watches feeling drunk with power as Potter's eyes glaze over.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about." Potter manages to stutter out.

He knows it's the potion causing Potter to act like this, but Potter's refusal to meet his eyes and the blush creeping up his neck makes it feel all too real. Draco leans further into Potter's space with a predator smile that grows sharper as he hears Potter's breath stutter.

"Are you lying Potter?" Draco croons.

Potter seems unconscious of his movements as he sways even closer to Draco and lets a yes slip out of his lips in a rough voice. Draco pats him on the cheek harder than necessary and says in a sweet voice,

"Then stop acting out, endearments are earned."

Potter gasps in surprise as Draco slips his hand in his and pulls him along down the corridor.

"Draco, wait." Potter sputters out, and Draco almost swats at him, not used to his given name falling out of the golden boy's mouth.

Potter digs into his pocket, pulls out a blank piece of parchment and points the tip of his wand at it.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Draco sucks in a startled breath as ink swirls across the page, creating a map of the castle complete with moving footprints of all its occupants. Potter and his dots stand right next to each other a little way away from the Slytherin Common room. Severus's dot appears about to turn around the corner to where they stand.

"Quick!" Potter whispers under his breath tossing the same invisibility cloak from the train over them both and crowding Draco against the opposite wall.

Neither dare to say a word as Potter leans into Draco under the cloak, his face pressed into Draco's neck. He scowls as he feels Potter's toned chest muscles shift against his, resenting how muscular Potter is despite his skinny frame. Draco holds his breath, counting the seconds as Severus walks past, not glancing at them. He distracts himself by examining Potter's appearance, or at least the parts not pressed against him. Potter's hair still looks like a home for birds and his clothes under his robes are muggle and too big on his skinny frame, but it does appear neater than usual. Like some effort was made for his sake. He wonders if he is supposed to feel touched. Mostly he wonders if Potter tries harder for Weaselette, the girl he is trying to woo.

He breathes out in relief as his godfather disappears. Potter noses the hair behind his ear, sighing in a rush of hot air. A spike of aversion shoots through Draco and he feels uncomfortable, like his skin is on fire with Potter's powerful heat burning through him.

"You smell so good, fresh, almost herbal with hints of apple."

"It's called shampoo Potter; you should try it. Maybe then you won't smell like the Quidditch changing room."

It's a lie of course that Draco only admits to in the confines of his head. Potter smells…well not good, but not bad. His scent possesses a certain golden caramel sweetness that Draco finds fitting for the goody goody Saviour. Instead of moving away and getting mad, Potter chuckles, giving him a love-sick grin.

"I love it when you get prickly, darling, it's cute."

"Don't call me that, I am not your darling."

He suppresses a groan of frustration. Of course, the love potion Potter is more unbearable than the usual one. Draco shoves him away as he feels Potter's lips graze his neck. He grits his teeth and snarls in frustration,

"Stop that, Potter."

Unperturbed, Potter kisses the skin below his ear and continues to mark a line down his neck with skilled moments of his lips, his prowling finger skating across the waistband of Draco's pants, as Potter shoves open his robes. Draco grabs Potter and yanks Potter behind him, marching him down the hall.

"Where are we going?" Potter whispers, giving Draco a curious look.

"The entrance hall. I fancy a walk to Hogsmeade tonight." He forces out, irritated that he keeps losing control of the situation.

"Wouldn't it make more sense to take the secret tunnel that leads to Honeydukes?" Potter asks, looking confused.

Draco feels a spark of excitement explode in his chest. He never dreamed of the Saviour of the wizarding world to provide help in his kidnapping.

"You know of a secret tunnel to Honeydukes, pet?" Draco demurs, his thumb brushing against the back of Potter's hand.

Potter looks pleased with the return of the endearment, a tentative smile spreading on his face. If only he knew it was the hated name that Pansy called him during their brief dating stint at the beginning of fourth year. He still resents her whenever she or Blaise reminds him of that time.

"Yes, it's behind the hunchback witch statue," Potter says, pointing the tunnel out on his charmed map.

Draco traces the path they need to take and swears as he sees McGonagall and Flitwick standing mere feet from the entrance.

"What's wrong?" Potter asks, looking at him with concern.

Draco shakes off his rising fear, determination growing in its place, there's nothing he won't do to save his parents.

"Nothing I can't take care of." He says, in a light unconcerned voice.

If he snuck behind the professors with Potter's cloak and then stunned them, he should be able to take them by surprise. He takes the lead, dragging Potter along the corridors, and down the staircases, their footsteps whisper silent. He stops within earshot of his targets and shoves Potter into a hidden alcove in the wall.

"Wait for me," Draco whispers his command, his silver eyes lingering on Potter's lips in a silent message.

Potter's eyes grow wide, and Draco feels a little breathless as Potter ducks out from under the cloak and sits down on the ground like an obedient krup without complaint. Draco resists calling him a good boy and patting his head, even though previous events show Potter responds well to that sort of treatment. Strange, to find out that the Golden Boy bends so easily.

Still under Potter's cloak, he peers around the wall, listening to the steady rise and fall of his professor's voices. When he hears the name, Harry, he freezes and casts a one-way silencing charm. Then slides down and leans forward to catch more. Beside him Potter yawns slumping sideways against Draco, his head cradled on Draco's shoulder, the position knocking his glasses askew. With a biting frown, Draco ignores his revulsion at the warmth leaching into him.

"Are you sure the defences around the boy are enough Minnie? The trace can be removed by a powerful enough dark wix." Flitwick murmurs looking around nervously as if expecting said dark wix to jump out of one of the portraits.

"We've been through this Filius, if Potter dares to take a step out of the castle, secret passageways included, Dumbledore will be alerted, and the entire school will go on lockdown. We have people monitoring all the exits of the secret passageways as well." McGonagle says with an impatient flick of her wand.

Draco feels himself spiralling a thousand thoughts racing through his head each more nauseous than the last. Him finally getting Potter out only to be surrounded by Dumbledore's cronies. Him standing trial and getting sent to Azkaban. Him dying alone in his cell while his parents are tortured to death for his failure.

"Draco," Potter whispers, but Draco doesn't hear him.

"Draco," Potter's voice insists again, giving him a little shake.

Draco startles, turning to see Potter's face much too close to his own.

Their eyes lock as a daring expression spreads across Potter's face, his eyes drifting down to Draco's lips. Before he thinks to stop him, Potter lunges forward and smashes his lips against Draco's. It's nothing more than skin against skin slamming together. Not dissimilar to a punch to the face, or at least that is what Draco tells himself as he lets Potter attempt to conquer his lips. Potter nips and licks at Draco using every tool at his disposal yet Draco refuses to open to him. Before Potter gets the idea to bite down harder, Draco shoves him backwards, the dazed look of the possessed clouding his eyes. Potter shakes his head. The clouded look clearing into an alert one.

Draco's heart beats wildly in his chest as he sees the fire burning in those blazing green eyes. He feels the burden of his lack of foresight settle on him as he remembers Potter's ability to resist the imperius curse.

"Malfoy!" Potter growls, lunging at Draco with all his strength, trying to knock him back.

In a rush of quick-thinking Draco stops resisting him and lets their lips collide in a stubborn heady rush. As Potter's weight settles on him and he freezes looking confused, Draco digs into his pocket and grabs the amortentia. He shoves Potter back as Potter yanks away gasping, the combined force sending Potter reeling back, arms flapping for balance. As Potter hangs suspended in the air Draco pulls his arm back and splashes the potion into Potter's open mouth. He watches as Potter catches a large gulp full of potion and involuntary swallows.

A love-struck look replaces the awareness and Potter crawls forward with downturned lips. Draco frowns before he shoves him back, admiring the wonder of Potter looking contrite instead of pissed. Draco straightens his touseled hair and smirks despite himself knowing Potter thinks he messed up their 'date'.

"Am I a bad kisser?" Potter asks in a nervous voice.

Yes, Draco thinks, the drunk Durmstrang student he kissed in the broom closet after the Yule Ball utilised more control of his tongue than Potter. The longer it takes Draco to answer the further Potter's face falls, until he looks near tears.

"Shh pet, it's okay." Draco soothes, lying through his teeth as he fights the urge to snicker.

"Can we try again; I promise to follow your lead," Potter asks, his face painted in colours of desperation and addiction.

Draco considers it, tempted by the offer to have him at his mercy, to press Potter against the wall and shut him up for a little while. A willing boy is a willing boy after all even if said boy is the Golden Boy.

"You look tired. Maybe we should call it a night." Draco says, shocked to see he doesn't need to lie.

Dark circles stain the bottom of Potter's eyes, and his face looks too wane and pale. Potter nods in disappointment, falling back against Draco. Draco cringes as the wetness touches him, but lets it go in the name of remaining in character.

"I haven't been sleeping much, nightmares," Potter grumbles with a shrug.

An alternate plan forms in Draco's mind at those words. He pulls out the bottle of dreamless sleep he always carries on him, pops open the cork and pours the small vial he brewed earlier into the bottle. It wouldn't solve his problem, but it would provide a lovely spot of revenge for their failure. He hands the bottle to Potter who gives him a sceptical look.

"Aren't you supposed to take a Dreamless Sleep when you are already in bed?" The corner of Draco's lips twitches.

Potter looks so stupid with his soaked sleep-rumbled hair and droopy eyes.

"I'll make sure you get back safe and sound, pet, trust me," Draco assures, giving Potter a winning smile as he wipes off his cheap crooked glasses and attempts to dry his rat nest hair with a handkerchief.

Potter's face heats up under Draco's attentive hands. He figures Potter appreciates the magicless gesture since he constantly seems to forget he is a wizard and performs tasks the muggle way to Draco's utter disgust.

"There, all better," Draco says letting his fingers smooth the droplets off of Potter's jaw as he lowers them.

Potter looks hesitant as he takes the bottle and brings the rim to his lips. His eyes lock with Draco and Potter gives him a small smile. Something weird in Draco squirms in disgust.

"I do trust you, Draco." He says as he downs a large drink.

The potion's effects are instant, Potter's eyes drifting closed seconds later, his head growing heavy on Draco's shoulder again. Draco gazes at Potter's relaxed face and sneers. What a twit he thinks, wondering how anyone even under a love potion could be so gullible.