A Vampire's Soul

A Vampire’s Soul, chapter two
Pairings: Harry/Draco, slight Harry/Ron/Hermione, Ron/Hermione, Ron/Harry, Harry/others
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Vampires, so there’s bound to be blood mentioned; Slash; minor Het; woman’s time of the month (is that a warning?), and possible multi-partners.

Words: About 4,000

Notes: I decided to try my hand at a vampire fic. I’ve only read one before, so if any of what I write in here sounds like other vampire fics, I apologize. I’ve taken most of my information from a Dracula site that tells facts about the actual Dracula from the book and I have altered some, like other storyteller’s have about vampires.

Extra note: About the woman’s time of the month thing: When I had first written the part, it had way more detail in it, and when I re-read it I realized that it was too much, so I dumbed it down a bit. So, you’re all lucky.

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

.-.

It was two days already—two effing days of no human blood. Harry was starting to get restless.

Hermione, bless her, tried to feed him the animal blood that Remus Lupin had brought over. It was goat, he believed, and the stuff tasted awful. Ever since he had his first meal of human blood—Hermione’s blood, at that—he couldn’t stand anything else. It was like being used to the finer foods and then being forced to live off scrap from bins.

Then Harry had discovered that it was Hermione’s time of the month. He had popped into the bathroom to try calming himself lest he jump Hermione and try draining her. It was her blood that he last tasted, therefore that was the blood his body was craving. He gripped the edge of the sink, staring at himself in the mirror as if trying to hypnotize himself into behaving when he smelled it.

Hermione’s blood. Granted, it smelled hours old, but it was still her’s. He used his nose to sniff it out and when he discovered it was from an old maxi pad, his brain started to whirl. He slowly realized: she’s bleeding. Down there. She’s bleeding!

Harry’s vampire senses went crazy. He dropped the old pad back into the trash and went to find her. When he did, she was sitting on her bed (they were in Grimmauld Place and he gave her her own room), reading some giant tome about vampires with souls. It figured, he thought; she hadn’t given up reading about his kind.

“Oh, Harry,” she said when she noticed him. “I didn’t hear you come in. Of course, being a vampire it’s easier for you to sneak around. Do you have a question?”

Harry stalked toward her. “Yes, Hermione, I do.” He licked his upper lip and his fangs slowly began to elongate. “Do you know what time it is?”

She looked over at her nightstand by her bed, her little inchworm clock sat on it. “Yes, it’s…” her eyes widened. “Seven o’clock.”

“Yes,” said Harry, quickly shutting the door and moved over to the window. He looked out. “The sun has set.”

“Y-yeah, it has,” she swallowed. “Harry, I don’t like that look in your eyes…”

He turned his head quickly. “You’re bleeding.” It wasn’t a question.

Hermione slammed her book shut and stood as if she were about to run. “What?”

“You’re bleeding, Hermione,” he nodded at her, “down there.”

She took a few steps toward the door. “So?”

He strode toward her. “So. I want it, Hermione. You know how I can’t stand that animal blood. And since all that blood of yours is just going to waste anyway…”

“I—I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Harry…” Her hand was on the doorknob.

Harry ran at her so fast, she screamed. He didn’t want her to escape. This was his chance to finally have more of her blood, and without having to bite her. He slammed his hand onto the door so she couldn’t get it open. He had the strength of twenty men, from what Hermione had told him, so he was going to use that to his advantage.

“Harry, please!” she cried when Harry gripped her by the wrist and pulled her to the bed.

“Cooperate with me, Hermione, or I’ll actually bite you,” he snarled. She whimpered softly, and the sounds were driving him even madder.

He soon had her on her back, skirt up and knickers down. She was a glistening, red heaven to him, and he lapped up everything he could.

“Harry!” she protested lightly. “This is embarrassing!”

His body wasn’t sure if what he was doing was erotic or not, so his cock was only at half-mast in his trousers. He had seen some pictures of what a woman looked like, so it wasn’t too surprising to him when he saw her; he was mainly concentrating on the blood and getting as much as possible.

Hermione had moaned softly whenever he accidentally brushed his nose against her clit. She throbbed on his tongue, so he figured that maybe he could get more if he… played with her. He used a finger against her clit and she bucked, whimpering and bleeding, and his eyes rolled into his skull.

When he was finished with her, she sighed as if spent. He helped put her knickers back up and her skirt down. He rubbed at his full belly, licking his lips.

“That was quite a feast,” he said. “Thank you, Hermione.”

She closed her eyes and sighed. He got off the bed and moved toward the door.

It banged open and Ron ran in, out of breath. “Hermione!” He glanced over at Harry and then at her lying on the bed, hair all over her pillow and looking as if she were barely breathing. “No… you didn’t,” he glared at Harry. “You…”

“She’s fine,” he snapped. He wondered when Ron was ever going to trust him now. “I didn’t bite her. Go see for yourself.”

Ron did. He checked her everywhere and when he was satisfied that there was no new bite marks on her, or that her old bites were reopened, he turned back to Harry, eyes narrowed.

“What did you do?”

Harry shrugged. “Nothing, really. She’s on the rag.”

“So?” Ron stood from the bed and stopped right in front of Harry. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

Harry smirked, one long fang revealed. “Free blood,” he explained, and then walked out the door.

It took a few minutes for Ron to catch on to what he meant by that, but by then Harry had already left the room. Harry smirked to himself and sat heavily on the couch by the fireplace. Damn, he was full. He patted his stomach as he stared into the fire. He was content, but suddenly began to think; he couldn’t keep feeding off of Hermione for long. Having to wait once a month for her to get her period wasn’t an option, either. He thought that maybe it was time to find other vic—er—willing bodies.

When Ron came back out of Hermione’s room he went straight for him. They both knew that Ron couldn’t physically hurt Harry, so Harry wasn’t worried about that. He was more worried about what would happen to their friendship.

“She’s asleep,” he said, sitting in a chair next to Harry. He kept his eyes on Harry as Harry slowly glanced at him.

“Good,” he said. “She needs the rest.”

“So you can keep sucking the blood out of her?” Ron said scathingly. “I think you should lay off Hermione from now on. You need to get used to animal blood…”

Harry sighed frustratingly. “Ron, it’s like changing from caviar to horrible runny chicken eggs, or from wine to beer.” He pulled a face.

“You’re just going to have to get used to it then, aren’t you?” Ron snarled. Harry glared at him, growing hot in anger. He curled his hands tightly around the edge of the sofa, nearly tearing the fabric open.

“I’d like to see you try coping with being a vampire,” he growled, teeth bared.

Ron started, but then went back to glaring at Harry. “Don’t even think of biting me, Harry, or I swear…”

Harry leaped from his spot, and Ron cried out in surprise. Before Ron could do anything, Harry had him pinned to the lounger, arms at his side. Harry sat in Ron’s lap, face inches away from him. Ron flinched when he saw Harry’s fangs.

“It’s nighttime, Ron,” Harry said in a low and dangerous tone. “Don’t provoke me.”

“I thought you were full!” Ron shouted, panic visible on his face.

“I am,” said Harry, not letting up on his grip. “I’m just giving you fair warning.”

They were both breathing heavily; Ron’s hot breath hitting Harry’s face. He could still feel Hermione’s blood running through his system, and it was actually calming him. But the smell of Ron’s blood, running so close to the surface from the heated argument, was making Harry’s fangs extend, little by little. Their eyes locked and slowly Ron’s body began to relax.

“Harry…” Ron moaned, turning his head to expose his neck. Harry’s body thrummed with excitement—Ron was letting him. He couldn’t believe it. He lowered his face to Ron’s neck and opened his mouth, but just as he was about to connect, he suddenly remembered what Ron had said to him about vampires being able to use their powers to make others more… obedient. He must have hypnotized Ron into being this way.

“Ron,” he shook his friend, but Ron only moaned softly and arched his body harder against Harry’s.

Harry froze. His erection was pressed into Ron’s belly, and Ron was still exposing that delicious, long neck of his, and his fangs were still extended and ready to penetrate that warm skin.

He lowered himself again. Just a little nibble, he thought, that was all he needed. Just a little.

Harry licked at the jugular, making Ron twitch and moan. Harry licked his own lips. Well, Ron did want him to stop taking Hermione’s blood, and Harry did wonder what would happen if he took some of Ron’s and mixed it with the blood he still had from her. He wrapped his arms tighter around his best friend and carefully bit. Warm skin and hot blood flooded his senses, and he moaned when it hit him all at once. He drank at the dark, rich blood pouring from Ron and felt incredibly strong. It was… exotic and exhilarating, he couldn’t explain why. He felt as if… as if he could become something else completely.

At the sound of the fireplace flaring to life, Harry detached himself from Ron and quickly looked over his shoulder.

It was Remus. He just came in via Floo seemingly unannounced. He stopped short when he saw Harry sitting on Ron, with Ron’s blood seeping from his neck and Harry’s mouth. He reacted in a very understanding way.

“Stupefy!”

Harry bounded off Ron, and in a moment’s panic, he was suddenly covered in dark fur and running on all fours.

Remus’s spell had hit the chair Ron was sitting in, and thankfully not Ron himself. Harry couldn’t go far since the place was warded against him to leave. When Harry was discovered to having become a vampire, Madam Pomfrey had told McGonagall and therefore everyone in the Order knew about it. Remus came over to see how Harry was coping with drinking the animal blood he sent over the other day and it seemed that Harry wasn’t coping well. Then Harry had surprisingly transformed into a wolf and was speeding up the stairs to his room. Remus faintly wondered what happened to Hermione; he prayed she wasn’t dead—or undead.

Quickly, Remus healed Ron’s wounds on his neck, but two little puncture marks remained, scarred over. After making sure that Ron was still breathing and that he wasn’t about to die from blood loss, he went after Harry.

When he found him, Harry was huddled under his bed, still in wolf form, and shaking like mad. Remus was about to cast another spell, but the look in Harry’s greenish-gold eyes made him stop. He knew how hard this must be for Harry, so he vowed to try and help the boy in any way he could. Vampires and werewolves were supposed to be enemies, or they at least didn’t get along, but Harry was different. Harry was a friend.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” he said gently. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that, I was just afraid for Ron’s life. Please come out. I want to help you.”

Harry whined softly, his glasses slipping down his long nose.

“No, really, I won’t hurt you.” Remus stowed his wand back into his robes. “Honestly. I just… reacted on instinct. I mean, if you saw a vampire or werewolf on top of one of your friends, wouldn’t you do the same?”

Harry blinked slowly, as if thinking it over, and then slowly crawled out from under the bed. Remus held him best he could in his arms and ran a hand gently through his thick, unruly coat of fur.

“I had no idea you’d learn to transform so quickly,” said Remus. “I thought for sure it would take you a month to figure it out.” When Harry looked up at him and cocked his head, Remus tried to explain. “A vampire can transform into a bat or wolf, depending on the person. I would think you could turn into a bat if you wished, if you needed to fly, but for some reason your gut instinct made you into a wolf.”

After calming down some, Harry was finally able to turn himself back to normal. He was now lying on his back in Remus’s lap, and looking sheepish.

“Hullo, Remus,” he said softly.

“Hello,” Remus smiled. “Sorry about what I did back there, but…”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t want to kill him,” Harry quickly said to reassure the older man. “I just… wanted a taste.” He blushed.

“A taste?” Remus quirked an eyebrow. “Or a big gulp?”

Harry stood quickly. “Oh shit, is he ok?” Harry ran for the door. Remus followed him just as quickly.

“I healed him,” he said after Harry’s retreating form. “But I don’t know how much blood you sucked out of him.”

Harry ran down the stairs, practically floating, and then stopped at Ron’s feet. He didn’t need to check Ron’s pulse with his hand, but it helped him feel better to do it anyway. He was relieved when he felt one.

“Oh, thank God,” he said.

Remus went into the kitchen and came out again swiftly, carrying a vial of Blood Replenisher. He tipped Ron’s head back, forced his mouth open, and then made him swallow the potion. Harry was very relieved, but he could still feel the heavy throbbing of blood throughout his own body. He was satisfied for the moment, but he still had a slight lust for more. To quell the feeling, he concentrated and told the monster in him to settle down. It obeyed.

“He’ll be fine as long as he rests. I’ll take him to his room. By the way,” Remus said, picking up Ron carefully. “Where’s Hermione?”

Harry looked at the floor. “She’s resting. In her own room.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Do I want to know?”

Harry blushed and shook his head. Remus let it be for now and took Ron up to his room. Harry sat by the fireplace again and buried his head in his hands. He could hardly believe that he lost control with Ron like that, especially after he had just eaten.

After a while, Remus came back down. Harry wanted to ignore him, but no such luck; Remus sat down in the same chair that Ron was just in. Harry kept staring into the fire.

“I saw Hermione,” said Remus. Harry just nodded. “She’s recovering, just so you know,” he continued. Again, Harry just nodded. Remus sighed. “I heard about you biting her, before. Did you bite her again?”

Harry shook his head.

“What did you do, then?”

Harry stood abruptly and walked toward the kitchen. “That’s private.”

Remus stood and followed him into the kitchen. Harry opened the refrigerator and took out a small jar of dark liquid. He cocked his brow at it and then turned to Remus.

“Have anything else other than goat’s blood, because this stuff is crap.”

“Harry,” said Remus. Harry wrinkled his nose at the jar and then put it back. “I’m sorry that you don’t like animal blood, at least that kind, but you must remain strong…”

“Goat blood doesn’t keep me strong, Remus,” Harry snarled. He slammed the ‘fridge’s door shut. “Find me something else.”

Remus sighed, trying to keep his patience. “Fine. I’ll find you some other blood. But you need to tell me what you did to Hermione.”

Harry opened the icebox with unnecessary force and took out some frozen meat. He put the meat into the sink, turned around, and folded his arms over his chest ominously. It actually made Remus feel uneasy.

“It was her time of the month, ok?” Harry huffed. “All that blood was just going to waste anyway.”

Remus looked stunned. “You drank her… her blood from her…”

Harry nodded. He nearly laughed at the way Remus’s face went pale.

Before Harry could say anything, Remus fled from the kitchen. Harry was slightly worried, so he calmly followed Remus to discover that he went to the bathroom to hurl. Harry couldn’t help snickering and he went upstairs to check on Ron. He knew that Ron wouldn’t be awake yet, but he had to make sure that he was recovering properly.

Upon entering the room Ron was using, something caught his eye. Harry moved closer to the dresser and stared at the chipped cup. He picked it up carefully and studied it. Yes, it was Hufflepuff’s cup; the thing they found in the Black Forest. As he stared at it, images began flooding his mind.

The forest was quiet, and Harry remembered the foreboding feeling he had in his stomach as they kept walking on. Every little rustle or noise made Ron jump, and Hermione was sticking so close to him, holding his arm, that he could feel her shaking. They were scared, and Harry had felt powerless to do anything or say anything that would reassure them. He even told them that they could turn back and come some other time when they were more sure of themselves, but Hermione insisted that they had to keep going and that they couldn’t stop now. They were already half way through the forest.

They finally found the cup in the middle of an old, moss-covered gazebo. They stared at it in amazement for a while, and then Harry was the first to move forward and grab it. That was when it happened.

Harry shivered, setting Hufflepuff’s cup down. He didn’t want to remember what happened next. They told him they were attacked by a horde of vampires, and he knew that image wouldn’t be good. He stared at the cup for a minute, and then turned back to see Ron.

The redhead was lying on his back on the bed, still sleeping. Harry could feel Ron’s blood flowing through him, along with Hermione’s, and he could smell Ron even from where he stood. What did it mean, or do, when he drank their blood? Did he gain powers at all, or their magical strength? Perhaps it was a bit of both. Harry closed his eyes and concentrated. He could sense them, deep down, and he zeroed in on that.

Suddenly, he felt Ron’s presence. Startled, he gasped out: “Ron.”

Ron’s eyes flew open. Harry gasped again and stared at his best friend, but Ron was just lying there. “Ron?” he tried again. Ron sat up slowly, eyes unfocused. Harry carefully pursed his lips and stared at him. “Um, are you OK?” he asked.

“I’m fine, Master,” Ron said.

Harry jumped, hitting the dresser behind him and nearly knocking Hufflepuff’s cup over. He shook his head to clear it and said, “Ron, are you awake? I mean, do you know what you’re doing?”

“I am at your command, Master,” Ron said as if he were a robot.

Harry started to walk over to Ron, but then stopped. Curious, he wondered if he could…

“Come to me,” he commanded. Ron got up from bed and walked over to Harry. He stopped right in front of him. Harry quirked a brow. He had no idea he could do this! Did that mean that even Hermione-?

Feeling adventurous, Harry said, “Kiss me.”

Ron obeyed, closing the gap between them, and gently placed his mouth over Harry’s. Harry tilted his head and kissed back, being mindful of his teeth. He had wanted to do this ever since he felt his erection pressed against Ron’s belly. Gently, he released Ron’s lips, and then stared into Ron’s glassy eyes.

“Go… lay back down,” Harry said with difficulty, cock twitching for attention. “Go back to sleep.”

“Yes, Master,” Ron said quietly, and then did as he was told. Harry stared after his friend, still in some shock. Hermione never told him that he could control those that he bit. He thought that only the soulless vampires could take control of their victims and make them do whatever they pleased.

The thought of the Imperius Curse came to mind and Harry frowned. He didn’t want to become evil like Voldemort and use his powers to make others do his bidding. The feeling was nice, though, Harry thought. All he’d have to do was bite them, have their blood in him, and he could make them do whatever he wished. It was a heady feeling, but Harry knew, in his soul, that it wasn’t right.

Harry placed a hand over his still heart. His soul. If he still had his soul, why wasn’t his heart beating? Was that just to show that he was actually undead?

Remus opened the door. “Harry?”

Harry jerked his head up in surprise and stared blankly at the older man. “Remus.”

“Are—are you all right?” he asked, seeing Harry have a hand over his heart.

“Fine,” said Harry, putting his hand down. “Just that… I didn’t know I had such power over those I’ve bitten.”

Remus flinched, and it made Harry wonder if it was such a good idea to have told Remus that.

“So you… figured it out.”

Harry nodded. “But don’t worry, I won’t use it for any evil purposes or anything.”

“Doesn’t matter if you don’t want to,” said Remus, coming closer. He still looked a little pale. “Having power like this can be addicting. You need to learn to control your urges.”

Harry’s brows lowered. “How am I supposed to learn anything if I don’t have a teacher to show me how?”

Remus looked away, lips pressed firmly together. Harry had a feeling he was hiding something from him.

“Let’s not worry about that right now…”

“Remus, if you don’t tell me what’s on your mind…” Harry paused for a moment, wondering if he really should try intimidating a werewolf. “Then I’ll… I’ll bite you.”

Remus looked back up at Harry. “You can’t bite me.”

“Oh, really?” said Harry, eyes gleaming. “Is that a challenge?”

“No, it’s the truth,” Remus smirked. “I’m a werewolf, therefore you can’t bite me to Turn me. And even if you did bite me, I wouldn’t be under your command.”

“Damn,” Harry muttered. Then he looked up expectantly. “But I can still drink your blood?”

Remus looked as if he were holding in a laugh. “You’d have a very hard time doing so. Besides, even if you were able to sink your fangs into me, you wouldn’t like the taste of my blood.”

“Werewolf blood is really that bad?”

“Pretty bad, yeah.”

Harry’s shoulders slumped. “So, you won’t tell me what I need to know?”

“Doesn’t matter if you know or not, it won’t help you.”

Harry glared. “Why not?”

Remus turned to leave, pausing at the door. “Because, we don’t know who your Sire is.”

Without checking to see Harry’s reaction, Remus left.

TBC