A Vampire's Soul

A Vampire’s Soul, chapter fifteen

Pairings: Harry/Draco, slight Harry/Ron/Hermione, Ron/Hermione, slight Harry/Ron, Harry/others

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Vampires, so there’s blood mentioned; Slash; some Het, and multi-partners.

Words: About 5,955

Notes: Trying to do things different in this fic than others. This is post-HBP. MIGHT have spoilers to book 7 in future chapters!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and its characters, nor do I own anything from Dracula.

Chapter written: April 22nd, 2007

.-.

Harry couldn’t believe that he’d forgotten about asking Scrimgeour about the night that the soulless vampires attacked them when he took Hufflepuff’s cup from the middle of that gazebo. The need for blood and worrying about other things had driven that question from his mind. The three of them got comfortable and listened adeptly.

“So, you really want to know?” said Scrimgeour.

“Yes,” said Hermione. “Please tell us.”

Harry nodded in agreement, and so did Ron.

“All right, but I’m not much of a storyteller…”

.**.

The Black Forest was known to hold more dangerous creatures in it than the Forbidden Forest. One of the main types of creatures, or monsters as they’re sometimes called, were vampires.

Vampires are more mysterious than any other kind of being to the common witch or wizard. Those that want to learn more about them usually seek out others that did, or learned about them first hand. People like Eldred Worple, which have forced themselves to live with or near vampires, are able to find out a lot more about vampires and usually end up writing about them or accidentally get bit themselves.

Only about a hundred years ago it was discovered that there were more than just the every day, evil vampires that roamed the Earth. Those that luckily kept their souls were able to make some sort of living within the magical community, just like those that were bitten by a werewolf. For a while, many witches and wizards feared those vampires more than the soulless ones, because they weren’t as easily spotted within a crowd, since they’re able to act normal. There was no telling when a vampire with a soul was going to strike.

As more and more information came in, the vampires with their souls still intact became feared less and less. Soon, there were enough of them that they banded together and declared a name for themselves. The head vampire at the time (whom was more than one hundred years old) took a vote on a few names he’d come up with. The group, which consisted of only seventy vampires at the time, had agreed on the name Daywalker. It fit them perfectly, since they were able to stand the light of day.

The Daywalkers started to grow over the years, and soon they decided (and because the Muggles at the time were out to kill them without a second thought, and they needed to unify) to put together an institution. Because their founder was a relative of the infamous Count Dracula, they settled on a name that honored him and his family: the Order of the Dragon.

Not only did the Daywalkers have to be careful around Muggles and magical folk, but other vampires as well. Those that didn’t have their souls had to be given a name as well, otherwise when addressing them as vampires they were addressing the entire race. It wasn’t even a year after the Daywalkers named themselves when they decided on a name for the other type of vampire – thus, calling them the soulless ones.

The soulless vampires were duly named because they lacked a human soul. What they became the moment the soul was gone was a mystery. They’re only described as being a part of the undead (although that was what the Daywalkers were also). The thing that drove the soulless vampire on was the maddening lust for human flesh and blood. They were merciless killers out for only one thing, and there was no way of getting them to see reason no matter how nicely one spoke to them.

So, the Daywalkers had a very rocky start; only a handful of magical folk, and maybe a couple Muggles, befriended them. They were classified as XXXXX, which was the highest rating the Ministry of Magic gave (Known wizard killer/impossible to train or domesticate). In the book Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Newt Scamander was asked to take vampires out because there wasn’t enough knowledge to put in about vampires, especially Daywalkers, and other reasons unknown.

Although the Black Forest was populated mostly by the soulless kind, the Daywalkers could also be found lurking about. The reasons as to why are up to the individual Daywalker. Some go there to hone their fighting skills against the soulless ones, some go to find ingredients that cannot be found anywhere else, and some are there for personal reasons. There was even a small hut on the edge of the Black Forest where Daywalkers gather to discuss things.

Rufus Scrimgeour was there, in the hut, on the day that Harry and his friends were looking for Hufflepuff’s cup. He was in a secret meeting with one of the more important Order of the Dragon members when he felt a disturbance deep within him. The other Daywalker felt it as well.

“What is it, Rufus?”

“I don’t know,” said Scrimgeour. He lifted his head and took a deep breath. “Something isn’t right.”

“You’re telling me. The hair on the back of my neck hasn’t been this disturbed since I found you nearly dead in the forest.”

Scrimgeour groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

“Hey, you still owe me.”

There was a slight pause, and then Scrimgeour turned to stare at his companion.

“I know, Neal… thanks,” Scrimgeour gave him a half smile. “But how did you know that I wouldn’t mind being turned into a vampire when you found me? For all you knew, I just wanted to die.”

Neal tapped a finger to his nose. “How else do you think I knew? Besides, why’d I want to bring some unwilling soul into this whole mess? If anyone was in their right mind, they’d rather die than become a monster.”

“Don’t say that,” growled Scrimgeour. “You know damn well that we’re not monsters.”

“Not everyone would agree with you,” said Neal. He slowly walked to the window and peered out nonchalantly. “Are you going to see what’s going on out there or not?”

Scrimgeour shrugged. “I suppose. If it’s another false alarm, I’m coming back to get you.”

Neal didn’t turn around, but he smirked and said, “As you wish… but remember, you’re the one that sensed the disturbance first; not me.”

“Right,” grumbled Scrimgeour. “I’ll remember that.” Neal didn’t look at him, and he figured it was just as well. He didn’t want any well wishes or anything that would make him second guess himself. He’d probably change his mind and decide to stay in bed next to Neal’s warm body if he looked into his face, and if something happened out in the Black Forest and he wasn’t there to stop… whatever it was… he’d probably kick himself for not going with his instinct.

Neal meant well, but there were times when he could be so bloody cold sometimes. Scrimgeour was just thinking that it could be because of how long Neal had been a vampire when he heard it: screaming. In one second, he turned his brisk walk into a fast sprint. He hardly made a sound as he approached the clearing. Ducking down into some bushes, he surveyed the entire scene before him. Not only could he hear the sounds of fighting, but now he could make out the unmistakable sounds of three heartbeats.

He watched in stunned silence as dozens upon dozens of the soulless ones transformed from bats and wolves, and attacked three young adults. The horror of it all was that he recognized them straight away: Harry Potter and his friends Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley. They were having a hell of a time keeping them at bay. Granger was throwing fire spell after fire spell at them, which was good, but wasn’t working too well. Weasley was trying to imitate Granger and Potter with whatever spells they were using at the time. Potter seemed to be having a tougher time getting his fire spells to work, so he kept using other ones. When Potter used the water spell against one, it stood there for a moment, perplexed, but then went back to attacking.

Scrimgeour was surprised by how many spells Potter knew and how powerful they were coming out of his wand. Five minutes into the fight, and Scrimgeour was quietly cheering Potter on, trying to get him to use his head and remember the right spell to use. Even Granger didn’t seem to know which was the right one to use, and it was starting to aggravate him to no end. Wasn’t she supposed to be the brains of their little gang?

As he stayed there, thinking and not paying attention to most of the action, Potter was getting deeper into trouble. The soulless ones had him surrounded, and Granger and Weasley didn’t realize it until it was too late. Potter made a startled, and meaningful scream, before he was silenced.

“Harry!” Weasley and Granger shouted. They tried to get to him, but it was no use; there were too many of them. Horror of all horrors, Scrimgeour began to realize that Potter was no longer struggling within the melee, and that the sound of his heartbeat was beginning to fade.

This could not be happening, Scrimgeour thought savagely. Harry Potter wasn’t supposed to die this way! He was supposed to live and learn and grow strong in order to beat Voldemort and rid the world of evil, not die at the hands of these beasts!

Determination set, Scrimgeour stood from the bushes, raised his wand high, and yelled, “LUMUS SOLEM!”

Bright, bright light lit up the area. Screams of the soulless ones echoed through the forest as many died, becoming nothing but black ashes on the ground. Some had just enough time to transform back into a bat and fly away, some even tried to run away and hide among the shadows, but failed when they ran into Granger and Weasley, knocking them down. In a mere matter of seconds, it was all over. The only bodies remaining were Granger, Weasley, and Potter’s.

He ran to Potter’s side immediately and checked for a pulse. He waited two seconds … three … four … five … and when he couldn’t find, or hear, a heartbeat, he panicked. The world wasn’t ready for Harry Potter to die, and neither was he.

Without another thought, Scrimgeour swiped his tongue hard across his elongated fangs, bent down to Potter’s mouth, forced it open with his bloodstained tongue, and fed Potter his blood. A few moments ticked by, and there was no response from the boy. Panic-stricken, Scrimgeour nearly sliced off his own tongue in order to spill more blood into Potter. He pushed and wiggled it inside Potter’s mouth wildly, face going white with fear and blood loss, until finally there was a harsh intake of breath from Potter.

The sudden gasp of air startled Scrimgeour, and he backed off. Potter coughed hoarsely, bits of blood flying from his mouth, as if someone had just been choking him. Scrimgeour looked back at Potter’s friends. When he saw that they were still unconscious, he stayed to make sure that Potter was going to be all right. Although a vampire’s skin was usually paler than a normal human’s, there was still a tinge of color there to indicate life – the blood that had been inside him not moments ago was now flowing through Potter’s body, giving him back a chance to live.

If one could call this living.

He knew the moment Granger and Weasley started to wake up by the sounds of their breathing and heartbeats. Not wanting to get the blame for biting and nearly killing Harry, Scrimgeour shakily stood and left the clearing. Since he had just Turned someone, he didn’t have the energy to transform. He wanted to stay so badly, but he knew he couldn’t. As he slowly made his way back to the hut, Harry’s face, voice, body, and scent stayed in his mind and soul. It was driving him slowly insane; he wanted to stay with his Fledgling and teach him all he knew, but he couldn’t.

.**.

By the end of his tale, Ron and Hermione were frowning deeply, and Harry had his head turned, eyes unfocused. He’d been repressing that particular memory ever since it happened, and now that it was out in the open, he felt as if his chest was about to explode. There was no heart beating crazily, but it hurt still the same.

“And then we woke up, and saw Harry lying there…” choked Hermione; she wiped at the tear that had escaped. “…And we knew we couldn’t just leave him there… we didn’t know what was wrong with him, since we couldn’t find a heartbeat…”

Ron nodded sadly, unable to find the words.

Scrimgeour inclined his head once forlornly, completely understanding how they felt. The moment he saw Harry lifeless on the ground, he had the same devastated feeling. He stayed silent, however, allowing for the trio to collect themselves.

When no one said anything more, Harry stood and moved to the window. He looked out, watching as the snow came down in small crystals.

“Are you all right, Harry?” Hermione asked, her voice still raw with emotion.

“Yes,” said Harry as normally as he could. “I’m fine.”

“Well, I better go,” said Scrimgeour, standing. Harry turned on the spot and stared at him.

“What? But I thought…”

“I don’t have the time to teach you at the moment. There’s a slight crisis at the ministry that I have to fix.”

Sighing, Harry nodded. “I understand.”

Ron and Hermione watched as Sire and Fledgling exchanged silent vows. When Scrimgeour left, Harry stared at his two best friends, suddenly realizing that they hadn’t said anything about Scrimgeour being his Sire.

“What is it?” asked Hermione when she noticed his look.

“Aren’t you two the least bit surprised that Scrimgeour is my Sire?”

“Oh, er…” said Ron, cheeks tinting slightly, and then he laughed a little. “Well, I was shocked when I found out during his storytelling, but then I slowly began to realize that I should have guessed from when Scrimgeour first arrived. I mean, why else would he have been with you, and when he said that he rescued you from the soulless vampires… that should have been the tip-off, but for some reason I didn’t catch on.”

“I should have realized too,” said Hermione. “But I’m actually glad that it’s Scrimgeour and not some heartless Death Eater… oh, sorry, Harry,” she said after realizing what she said.

Harry shrugged. “Don’t worry about it, Hermione. I’m used to not having a working heart now.”

Hermione still looked upset, so Harry walked over, leaned down, and hugged her. A minute later, Ron joined in the hug.

“Ok, I’m fine now,” said Hermione, standing from her spot. “Now let’s get down to business and figure out what we’re going to do about the Horcruxes.”

“You’re right, Hermione,” said Harry. “We’re losing precious time.”

.-.

The three of them put their heads together for the good part of an hour, but they were getting nowhere. The best thing they could think of was somehow getting to the middle of the Horcrux and killing the piece of soul that resided in it.

Hermione was sitting on the floor, back leaning against the bed, with a book propped on her raised knees. Ron had been all over the room, doing what he can to think up some plausible ideas. Sometimes he’d be lying on the bed, in all sorts of positions, and sometimes he’d be pacing the room, stopping once in a while to stare at the Horcruxes on the dresser. Harry leaned against the wall next to the window; arms folded across his chest, thinking as well and watching his two best friends rack their brains. Just watching them help him was bringing a warm feeling deep in his soul. Again he was thankful to have befriended them both.

“You know,” said Ron after an odd moment of silence, “it took a person to get the piece of soul out of Riddle’s diary.”

“Yeah?” said Hermione, looking up from her book, eyebrows arched.

“I think you might be onto something,” said Harry. He finally moved away from the wall and stood beside them. “It’s possible that the only way I’m going to be destroying this Horcrux is if the piece of Voldemort’s soul was somehow coaxed out.”

Ron wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, but who’d want to do such a thing? I mean, what if it’s dangerous and someone almost ends up getting killed?”

“Or actually does end up getting killed?” said Hermione.

“I know there’s a risk,” said Harry, “but what other choice do we have? We all know that I’m immortal, right? And since I’m the only one…”

“You’re not in this alone,” said Ron.

“I know that,” said Harry. “But if there was a way to make sure no one need to risk their life, then what other choice do we have?”

“There’s always a choice,” said Hermione.

Harry unexpectedly slammed his fist down on the dresser, making the Horcruxes jump, along with his friends. “Damn it, Hermione, I know that! But the circumstances are different here. You both know that. If you were me, would you want to risk anyone else’s life in doing this?”

Hermione frowned, shaking her head.

“Well then,” said Harry, picking up Hufflepuff’s cup and staring at the badger that was engraved on it. “You know what I have to do.”

.-.

The thing that Harry had to do wasn’t fully understood yet. Even Harry had a hard time deciding just how he was going to go about coaxing the bit of Voldemort’s soul out of the cup. Harry did try a few ideas. The first one he tried was writing on it, which was a rather silly idea, but it was worth a shot. It wasn’t like the diary that was for sure. The second idea he tried was talking to it, and that didn’t work either.

Setting the cup down on the dresser, Harry decided that his brain had done plenty of thinking for the night and that he’d try again later. Besides that, he was getting hungry. He had already decided that he’d wean himself off Ron and Hermione. The last thing they needed at the moment was a loss of blood.

When Harry left the room, however, he didn’t notice the cup vibrate once, and then glow a faint yellow.

He was about to head for the stairs, but he stopped short when his eyes fell upon Malfoy’s bedroom door. It was getting dark outside and all the candles in the house had lit themselves. It looked as if Malfoy had more than one candle in his room because the glow under the door was too bright to be from just one. Harry stood in front of the door and was about to knock, but he decided not to bother and just opened the door.

Malfoy gasped aloud the moment Harry came in. Malfoy was just taking off his clothes, his trousers were still around his ankles and he was bending down to remove a sock from the confines of them. The moment he saw Harry, he sat heavily onto the bed, kicked his trousers off the rest of the way, and covered himself up.

Harry smirked in amusement. “There’s no need to be so modest with me,” he said softly as he shut the door behind him and strolled over. “I’ve seen it already.”

“What do you want?” Malfoy snapped, his cheeks bright red and hands shaking around the blanket.

“Is that any way to talk to your soulmate?” Harry chided lightly.

“Shut up, Potter,” growled Malfoy. “If you’re here to finally bite me, you’re too late.”

Harry cocked a brow. “What do you mean by that?”

Malfoy sat up straighter, looking more prim and proper than he had a moment ago. He straightened the covers around him better, looking more in charge.

“Because, you blood sucking leech,” he said. “I’m protected.”

Harry loomed over him, but Malfoy didn’t seem too fazed. “Protected by what? More garlic and holy water?”

Malfoy stuck his nose into the air. “By a spell, you moron. It is guaranteed to keep non-human beings at bay. Not only that, but I have a stake hidden near me, so if you make one wrong move…”

“I thought you understood that you’re my soulmate?” said Harry, not one bit alarmed by the fact that Malfoy had a stake nearby.

“That doesn’t mean that I’ll let you bite me!” snarled Malfoy. He inched his way more on the bed.

Harry was beginning to get annoyed by Malfoy’s moodiness.

“Malfoy, you have no choice; you know this. We’re soulmates. You’re my Perfect Blood Doll. You’re supposed to be with me.”

“What about all those others you keep biting?” Malfoy said angrily. “And those that you keep having sex with? I’ll bet you’ve even had sex with the Minister of Magic!”

Harry opened his mouth to explain that it was different for Sire and Fledgling, but he was interrupted by a bang on the door. Malfoy jumped and hoisted the covers up his body more, but Harry just turned around slowly.

“Are you in there, Harry?” said Tonks. The doorknob jiggled slowly as if she weren’t sure whether she should just open the door or not.

“I’m here,” said Harry.

Tonks opened the door even though she knew it was Draco’s room and he hadn’t said anything. Malfoy glared at her from his spot on the bed, but she seemed to not notice. She went straight for Harry, a deep scowl on her face.

“Did you and Remus have sex?” she asked bluntly.

Malfoy’s jaw dropped, but Harry’s expression stayed stoic as he looked at her.

“Maybe we did,” he said calmly. “What’re you going to do about it?”

He had never seen Tonks’ face become so contorted, or so red, before. It looked as if all her blood was rushing to her face. Her fists were clenched so hard at her sides that her knuckles turned white. Harry could even hear her teeth grinding.

“I know that we’re not really serious in our relationship right now,” said Tonks tersely. “But I still don’t want you doing stuff with him.”

Harry raised a brow, as if he were surprised by her request. “Well, that’s really none of your concern then, if you and Remus aren’t really serious. Besides, it was during a time when he needed me, and I wasn’t about to begrudge him that.”

“He didn’t need to have sex after a transformation!” Tonks shouted. “He needed rest!”

“He was rested just fine,” Harry smirked.

Tonks took a couple deep breathes before continuing. “Look, I still like you, Harry, but I really don’t appreciate you having sex with my significant other.”

“Have you told him about the time that I bit you?”

Tonks blushed. “Um, well, not really…”

“Why not?” Harry asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Tonks’ lips thinned and her eyes watered. “Because… he doesn’t need to know about that.”

“How’d you find out about me and Remus, then?”

Tonks looked away. “He told me.”

“Ah,” said Harry. His eyes strayed from her face to Malfoy’s. Malfoy wasn’t looking at them; he was staring out the window, looking disgruntled. Harry brought his eyes back to Tonks. “Look, I’d like to continue our conversation, but I was about to get intimate with my soulmate, so if you don’t mind…”

Tonks nodded. “All right, Harry… but just don’t…”

“Don’t tell me not to do it anymore,” Harry interrupted. “Because I can’t make that promise. Especially since you and Remus aren’t in a serious relationship. Perhaps if you didn’t mind having some kind of threesome later…”

“Oh be quiet,” said Tonks, sounding a little amused. She glanced at Malfoy and then looked back at Harry. “Don’t kill or Turn him.”

“I won’t,” said Harry. Tonks nodded. She stood there for a moment, as if she was thinking about saying something more, but then she finally left. Harry sighed, glad that he can get back down to business. But when he looked at Malfoy, Malfoy suddenly had a stake in his hand. Harry’s eyebrows rose, shocked that Malfoy had the gull to be pulling that on him.

“Go away,” said Malfoy sternly.

“You weren’t like this before,” said Harry, trying to reason with him. “What’s got you so on edge now?”

“How about the fact that you nearly attacked me last time!” Malfoy growled. “If it wasn’t for Weasley, I’d be sucked dry!”

“That’s not true,” said Harry tactfully. “You’re my soulmate. I’d never kill you.”

“You would if you wanted to Turn me,” Malfoy replied sulkingly. He rearranged the blankets on him, trying to look unfazed. “Now go away, Potter. I have studying to do; the NEWTS instructor is coming by tomorrow.”

Harry inched closer. “What spells are protecting you?”

“Spells that ward off vampires, what else?” snapped Malfoy. “Now go away!” He threw one of his pillows at Harry as hard as he could. Harry caught the flying cushion, staring at Malfoy disbelievingly.

“You’re actually refusing me?” he asked.

Malfoy lifted his nose in the air. “Yes, I am.”

Harry stared. He could hardly believe what he was hearing. Was it really possible that Malfoy was allowed to refuse Harry, his own soulmate? What was to become of them if they stayed away for too long? What will happen to Harry if he was no longer able to be with Malfoy? The thought surprisingly chilled Harry’s soul. But when he tried to get closer to Malfoy, he felt a hot, shooting pain rip through his body. There was indeed some kind of protection spell around Malfoy, and Harry didn’t know if he should risk breaking through it. The spell might actually kill him if he did anything rash.

Frustrated beyond all belief, Harry threw the pillow back at Malfoy, hitting him in his middle, right above the text that he was reading. Malfoy grunted from the force, but otherwise didn’t comment on Harry’s obvious display of annoyance.

“Sooner or later, you won’t be able to stay away for long, and you’ll come crawling to me.”

Malfoy waved a dismissing hand at him, and it angered Harry even more.

“Fine!” Harry snarled. “If that’s the way you want it, then I’ll just go find someone else!”

Harry turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him. The monster in him was growing at an alarming rate, and if he didn’t get some kind of relief soon, he may just end up killing someone.

.-.

It was nearing midnight, and Harry still hadn’t bitten anyone. He was getting so restless that he was afraid that he might attack the first new person that he saw. Fifteen minutes ago, Hermione had been in the room to tell him that there was a possible Order meeting soon, because of the Death Eater activity. It was one of the worst possible times to have a meeting, especially the state he was in. If any one person that he hadn’t bitten yet came to Grimmauld Place, they’d be in serious danger. Harry was starting to scare himself; he knew that deep within he didn’t really want to kill anyone, but if his cravings weren’t met very soon, he was afraid that he would get too carried away and end up doing just that.

He stayed in his room, but he could still hear the sounds of others roaming the house. Twice he heard the fireplace flash, and then he sensed two new people in the house, but he didn’t dare come out to greet them. Hopefully Hermione had warned them not to come find him.

The grandfather clock in the sitting room chimed twelve times. Midnight. Harry curled into a ball on the bed, shivering as he tried to hold himself together. He was so tempted to just transform into a bat, fly up to the crawlspace in the wall, and make his way, somehow, to the sitting room where everyone was. He knew better, so he stayed on his bed, wishing for the sharp craving pains to go away.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Harry shook his head and swore under his breath. No, please, he thought—go away, don’t come in… but then there was a second knock. Harry lost it.

“GO AWAY!”

“Harry, it’s me,” said Ron from the other side of the door. “Can I come in?”

“NO!” Harry shouted. “I’m trying to control it and I don’t know what’ll happen if you walk in…”

“I brought you some stag blood,” said Ron gently. “Remus said that it might help ease your craving.”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut; little white spots danced behind his eyelids. His body was starting to shake so badly now, he thought he was about to explode.

“All right,” Harry yielded. “But stay at a distance for now…”

Doing as he was told, Ron opened the door carefully, peered inside, and when he saw Harry on the bed looking in a right state, he quickly entered the room and set the glass of blood on the nightstand, and then back away just as fast. Harry shot up from his fetal position and drank deeply from the glass. Bless Ron and all his freckles: he’d heated it up for him. There was nothing better than blood warmed at body temperature.

When he finished, his cravings had lowered considerably, but he still felt as if he needed more. At least he wasn’t so bad that he would attack anyone, though.

“Feeling better?” Ron asked gingerly. “Or would you like more?”

Harry’s eyes dilated when Ron said that. He stared at Ron’s neck, thinking about how if felt piercing that skin, but he turned his head and closed his eyes.

“I would love to have more, but I don’t want you giving me any more of your blood, Ron. I’m trying to cutback on you and Hermione… I don’t want you two to be my Blood Dolls anymore.”

Ron nodded. “Because of Malfoy.”

Harry’s face fell, and then he suddenly threw the empty glass at the wall, startling Ron so badly that he jumped. Shards of glass littered the carpet, and some even stayed embedded within the wall.

“Was it something I said?” Ron asked feebly.

“Malfoy is such a – he’s a real—HE’S AN ARSE!”

“I could have told you that, mate,” Ron smiled reassuringly. “What’d he do this time?”

“He’s resisting!” Harry shouted, jumping from the bed. He began to pace, and every time he came close to Ron, Ron took a step back, wondering if Harry would pounce him.

“Resisting?” said Ron carefully. “As in, resisting you?”

“Yes!” Harry growled. “The git knows that he’s my soulmate, but he’s being fickled. I want his blood so badly right now I’m this close to just taking it, and to hell with what he wants!”

“But you’re not forcing him,” said Ron, somewhat surprised. “You actually care about getting his consent.”

“Yes, and it’s annoying as hell! Why does he have to be so afraid of me? Doesn’t he trust me?” Harry stopped pacing and faced Ron. “Doesn’t he know that the last thing I want to do is drain him of all his blood and Turn him?”

“I’m sure he does, but think about it, Harry… would you get so crazy with draining his blood that you’d lose control? Harry, you told Hermione and me once that his blood smells extra sweet to you, right? That’s why he’s your soulmate. But what if you’re unable to control yourself because of how tasty Malfoy’s blood is? I think that’s what Malfoy’s mostly worried about. Also, he could have that deep rooted fear of vampires, like Ginny does.”

Harry rubbed at his eyes from under his glasses. He was beginning to get annoyed with everyone being scared of him. Damn it, didn’t they know that he was still Harry? He still had Ron and Hermione, and they trusted him, but why couldn’t everyone else?

“Look, if you need more blood, why don’t you just let me and Hermione give you some? At least that way you won’t be so blood-crazy.”

Harry was about to snap at him, but he slapped himself to calm down. Ron raised an eyebrow when he did it.

“I’ll be fine, Ron… I guess I’ll just have to be a little more persuasive with Malfoy.”

“Kind of like you did with Slughorn,” Ron smirked. “But maybe persuasive isn’t the right word here… maybe you just need to be—I dunno—sweet?”

It was Harry’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “What?”

“Well, you know… flirt with him a bit. Or show him that you care about him.” Ron made a face after saying that, and Harry chuckled.

“Right, sweep Malfoy off his feet. I’m just a great sweet talker, aren’t I?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” smiled Ron. “Besides, I think you’ve gotten sexier since you became a Daywalker.”

Harry smiled, his fangs illuminating in the dimly lit room. “Are you flirting with me, Mr. Weasley?”

Ron caught on and wiggled his eyebrows. “Perhaps. What are you going to do about it, Mr. Potter?”

Harry walked up to Ron until their toes and noses touched. Ron’s eyes were fervent and Harry’s were glowing, causing a shiver to go through Ron. Harry could smell and hear Ron’s blood pumping through his body, and it was making his mouth water. He knew that if he didn’t back down now, he’ll end up hypnotizing Ron and sinking his fangs deep into his neck. The beast within him cheered him on and, unable to resist any longer, he drew closer (Ron tipped his head back), opened his mouth, and…

There was a knock at the door. Harry’s nostrils flared in annoyance, anger, and need. He felt frozen to the spot with rage, so Ron turned to let the other person in.

“Is he all right now?” said Remus, walking into the room looking apprehensive.

“A bit, but not much,” said Ron. He opened the door wider to let Remus in.

“What is it?” Harry said none too nicely.

Remus understood why Harry was being snappish, so he let it go. “There’s a request for a meeting.”

“From who?” Harry growled.

Remus took out a letter from his pocket and handed it to him. Harry snatched it out of Remus’s hand and opened it. He scanned the letter, his brow furrowing the further down he read.

“Worple?” said Harry incredulously. “What the hell does he want?”

“He says why in the letter,” said Remus.

Harry scanned the letter again. “Sanguini? Why are we having a meeting just because of him?”

“I don’t know, Harry, but we might as well see what he has to say.”

“Since when is Worple a part of the Order?”

“He’s new, but he doesn’t come to all the meetings.”

“Why?” asked Ron.

“Because he claims he’s been too busy,” explained Remus.

“Busy my eye,” grumbled Harry. “He’s been gallivanting with all those Daywalkers…”

“Maybe it’s news about the Order of the Dragon. Remember that Sanguini was going to look into it for us and tell them about you becoming a Daywalker?”

Harry nodded, but he actually did forget about it. “Well, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to see what he has to say. When should we have the meeting?”

“This weekend would be best,” said Remus. “Hopefully by then your cravings will have decreased.”

Harry licked at one of his fangs as he thought about it. “Yeah, let’s hope.”

TBC