A Vampire's Soul

A Vampire’s Soul, chapter twenty-three

Pairings: Harry/Draco, slight Harry/Ron/Hermione, Ron/Hermione, slight Harry/Ron, Harry/Remus, Harry/others, other male/male

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Vampires, so there’s blood mentioned; violence; death; Slash; slight Het, multi-partners, and a touch non-con but not really. ALSO, there will be a few OCs, only because I need them for the story/plotline, but Proudfoot is a name mentioned in book six, I just don’t know his personality.

Words: About 5,300

Notes: There’s Original Characters in the fic, and I apologize. Harry’s role in the Daywalkers’ world is growing, thus there needs to be Daywalker characters (as well as other Werewolves).

More notes: Another kind of vampire will reveal itself. I couldn’t think up my own name to call it, so I borrowed one from another show. I won’t say anymore, because I don’t want it spoiled just yet.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its characters, nor do I own anything from Dracula or from any other show. I do own all the other characters in this story that isn’t in the Potter books.

Chapter written: June 20th - 23rd, 2007

.-.

The scent of death that surrounded Harry was the usual scent a Daywalker could smell on a soulless one. It wasn’t necessarily there because the soulless one had killed; it was there because the body of the soulless one was dying. With the soul gone, the body was the living dead; therefore, it smelled like death.

Although Harry’s soul wasn’t completely gone, the stink of death lingered around Harry’s aura, slowly engulfing him as the soul was destroyed bit by bit. If it weren’t for Prince Vlad giving Harry some of his blood, Harry would be long gone by now.

Yet, as Scrimgeour got Harry naked and started kissing him (after he’d healed the wound on Harry’s shoulder), Harry was acting as wild as a soulless creature. Harry’s mouth moved over his in abandon, hands running up and down his side, his back—all over his body. When Scrimgeour got his mouth back—Harry snarled in annoyance—he attached it to one of Harry’s nipples and got a sharp gasp of pleasure out of Harry as a reward. Harry gripped his fingers in Scrimgeour’s hair tightly, pulling whenever Scrimgeour nibbled hard on Harry’s pebbled flesh, and Harry’s fingernails dug deeply into his skin.

The full moon bathed their naked bodies as they moved together. Harry bucked in his Sire’s lap, gasping and moaning at the feel of his Sire inside of him. Cold sweat covered Harry’s skin, but Scrimgeour was on fire—thirsty—and he lapped up Harry’s sweat, up his collarbone to his neck. When he licked at a particular spot on Harry’s neck, Harry squirmed and made a sound as if he’d come, but he hadn’t. Keeping Harry taut against him, slick and warm, he could no longer contain his lust for blood and sank his teeth into Harry.

Immediately, Scrimgeour retracted his fangs and wiped at his lips with the back of a hand. He’d forgotten that the poison was still running within Harry’s veins; his blood was so sour it made Scrimgeour’s lips pucker. Harry stared at him in confusion, possibly wondering why he stopped sucking on his neck and acted like he didn’t care for his blood. Scrimgeour didn’t want to tell him exactly why, in case it upset Harry so much that he took off. He just smiled as nice as he could, and pressed his lips to Harry’s in order to distract him. At the same time, he pushed his hips upward, quickening his thrusts. The distraction worked, and Harry returned to snogging him wildly and rocking himself on Scrimgeour’s cock.

The smell of sex wafted around them, filling Scrimgeour’s senses, and taking away all coherent thought. He’d even forgot that they were in danger staying out in the open, with the moonlight shining down on them. Their scents were carried on by the wind, which was blowing right in the direction of three others.

.-.

Vlad held up a hand, and Snape and Draco halted—Draco nearly bumped right into Snape.

“What?” Snape whispered. He’d cocked the crossbow he’d been given by Vlad, just in case the head vampire was sensing a werewolf.

“I think I smell something—someone—familiar,” said Vlad, raising his nose higher into the air. Snape and Draco watched in fascination and anxiety as Vlad inhaled deeply. After the third sniff, Vlad nodded, more sure of himself. “Yes, it’s them—they’re together.”

“Who?” Snape asked. Draco gripped Snape’s bicep hard, shaking slightly.

“Harry and Scrimgeour,” said Vlad.

“Scrimgeour?” said Draco, a little irked that Harry’s Sire found Harry first.

“They’re—” Vlad paused, a smile slowly forming on his face. “—bonding.”

Draco tensed beside them. “They’re what?” he huffed angrily.

Vlad glanced back at Draco, a knowing smirk on his face. “Bonding,” he repeated smugly, as if Draco didn’t hear him the first time. He turned back around and inhaled again, just to double check. “That crafty vampire—he knew just what to do when he found him.”

“Having sex helps Potter?” Snape said, not sure if he was very comfortable with the thought of possibly catching Potter and Scrimgeour in the act.

“It helps Harry’s soul,” said Vlad. “The bond between Sire and Fledgling is pretty strong—although not as strong as the bond between soulmates—and sharing each other’s bodies and… other things… will help tame Harry’s monster long enough for us to cure him.”

Draco flushed as the thought of what needed to be done ran through his mind.

“If we don’t hurry, Harry’s soul may leave him forever…”

“You mean, he’ll really be… dead?” whispered Draco in horror.

Prince Vlad nodded. “Aye, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco’s chest felt cold and his stomach churned at the mere thought. Funny, a couple months ago he could care less what happened to Potter, but now…

“We’ve got to find him!”

“Indeed,” said Vlad, eyes glittering. “Come, they’re this way…”

.-.

“What’s that?” asked Ron, pointing at a raven that was perched on the windowsill.

“A raven?” said Hermione. “Oh, it has a letter!”

Quickly, she went to the window and opened it, letting the raven in. The raven cawed at her annoyingly and tried to peck at her.

“Hey!” she cried.

Ron took out his wand threateningly. “Stop it, bird, and give us the letter!”

The raven cawed again and swooped down. Ron was about to cast a spell when the raven grabbed his wand out of his hand and flew up to the top of the wardrobe.

“Bloody bird!” Ron snarled. “Give it back!”

“I don’t know if yelling at it will help,” said Hermione. “I’ve heard of ravens sometimes being used as letter carriers, but I didn’t think there were any left in England. From what I’ve heard, ravens are rather temperamental and harder to train.”

“Whose raven is it, then?”

Hermione hummed in thought, and then her eyes suddenly flashed in realization. “It could be Prince Vlad’s!”

“Vlad! Vlad!” the raven cried, fluttering its feathers.

“Yeah, that’s who you belong to, don’t you?” said Hermione to the raven. “Could you please give us the letter, then, if it’s from your master? Pretty please?”

The raven cocked its head, clearly not fully understanding her.

“It’s definitely not as smart as an owl,” said Ron, folding his arms across his chest.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Hermione, smirking. “It did steal your wand out of your hand.”

Ron huffed. “Vlad probably taught it that.”

“Vlad, Vlad!” the raven cawed again. It began pecking at Ron’s wand, which was still in one of its claws.

“Hey! Stop, you’ll peck holes in it!”

Hermione rummaged through one of her bags, getting Ron’s attention. He watched her with confusion, and then she produced something shiny and showed it to the raven. It was a Galleon.

“Here you are, pretty birdie,” said Hermione sweetly. “Look at what I have.”

The reaction was immediate; the raven swooped down and landed on Hermione’s arm to take the Galleon into its beak, cawing happily all the while. As it was busy adoring the shiny coin, Hermione took the letter and Ron’s wand out of its claws. She handed Ron his wand, and then unrolled the letter and started to read… but then something fell out. She gasped in surprise as a blue and violet quill landed at her feet. She picked it up straightaway.

The raven cawed and took off, Galleon still in its beak. Ron glared after it, about to raise his wand to get the coin back, when Hermione’s voice interrupted him.

“It is from Vlad!” she said, excited. (“Vlad! Vlad!” the raven cried.) “He says the quill is from Harry—that Harry got it from Worple, who is”—Hermione choked—“dead now, because he’d been turned into a soulless vampire and was killed! It doesn’t say by who, though…”

“Not a terrible loss,” mumbled Ron.

“He was a part of the Order and from what Vlad says, he was also a hero! He found this quill for Harry, saying that it was very important…” she looked at the quill, and then gave a sudden shriek. “It has an eagle insignia on it!”

“What? No way!” said Ron, but sure enough, Hermione was right. “So, does this mean that this quill is… is…”

Hermione nodded her head vigorously. “Yes! It might be a Horcrux!”

“Horcrux! Horcrux!” the raven cawed, startling them.

“Ok, that’s just spooky,” said Ron, staring at the raven. “How does it know-?”

“It obviously picks up certain words,” said Hermione, but she was skeptical. “Still, it would take a lot of repeating of a word in order for the raven to finally say it…”

“You don’t suppose the raven might have picked it up from someone other than the head vampire?”

“It’s possible,” she said. “Anyway, let’s put this quill with the rest of them—hopefully Harry will return home soon, because I may have figured out just how Dumbledore destroyed the ring Horcrux.”

“Horcrux! Horcrux!” the raven cawed, before flying out the open window. Ron and Hermione stared after the raven, and then looked back at each other. It was very eerie to hear the raven say the word that wasn’t as well known around the wizarding world, especially a word that was feared among the older witches and wizards.

.-.

“More,” Harry moaned through his teeth. He pushed back against Scrimgeour, hands and knees digging into the dirt. Scrimgeour had come once already, but Harry was still in the mood, very much still wild, and had coaxed Scrimgeour’s cock into hardness again. Those lovely arse cheeks had squeezed him, and try as he might, he couldn’t stop himself from becoming excited once more. He did his best to comply with Harry’s needs, but it seemed that Harry was too insatiable.

He grabbed hold of Harry’s head and pulled it back, earning him a low moan from Harry’s throat. The act made Harry push back into him harder and faster, the sounds and smells of their joining becoming stronger. Just as it had done before, Harry’s monster was calmed considerably from sex.

As luck would have it, their private bonding time was no longer private. Nearby werewolves had smelled them and were inching closer by the minute. Scrimgeour paused, irritating Harry, but before Harry could tell his Sire off for stopping, he had sensed that they weren’t alone too.

“Fuck,” Harry mumbled, baring his teeth in a threatening way to the closest werewolf.

“I think that’s one thing we can count on that we won’t be doing anymore,” said Scrimgeour as he started to take his cock out of Harry, but Harry gripped him tightly, not letting him go.

“Don’t even think about it,” he growled to Scrimgeour, although he was glaring at the werewolf, making the werewolf think he was talking to him. Although, it didn’t seem like the werewolf understood him.

“Harry, we need to fight, or we’re dead,” said Scrimgeour, trying to take his cock back out again, but Harry wasn’t allowing it.

“We can fight,” said Harry, smirking. “I just don’t want you out of my arse.”

It finally hit Scrimgeour: Harry wanted to fight while they were still intimately connected. He shook his head, about to tell Harry that there was no way he’d be able to fight while still attached to his bottom, but then one of the werewolves leaped, and Scrimgeour had no choice but to pick up his wand from the ground, aim it at the werewolf, and shout, “Expelliarmus!” The werewolf went flying and hit a nearby tree. Another werewolf jumped onto his back and sank its teeth into his shoulder.

“AHHHH!” screamed Scrimgeour, and tried to aim his wand behind his back.

“Stupefy!” Harry shouted, pointing a finger over his shoulder. The werewolf fell to the ground, stunned.

Scrimgeour wasn’t too surprised that Harry’s powers had grown since he’d been Turned. He took advantage of the freedom and stood them both up. Still, Harry didn’t want him to take his cock out of his arse, so together they fought off two other werewolves while still joined.

“This would be easier if…” started Scrimgeour.

“NO!” Harry cried, then held up a hand to a charging werewolf and said “Protego!” The werewolf hit an invisible shield and went flying. Scrimgeour concentrated on the other werewolf, whom seemed to have been the ringleader of the group. He wondered if Greyback’s clan was always this disorganized.

The leader was stronger than Scrimgeour anticipated, and biting into its skin was much harder than he thought. Just as Harry turned around to try helping him, there was another shout of a different voice, and the werewolf went flying.

Scrimgeour and Harry turned as one, and there stood Snape, Draco, and Prince Vlad. Scrimgeour felt only a little embarrassed getting caught with his dick buried in Harry’s arse, but Harry wasn’t looking embarrassed at all: he was more shocked than anything.

Snape pointed a crossbow at the werewolf leader and pulled the trigger. A silver arrow flew through the air at unknown speeds and made a direct hit into the werewolf’s side. It was dead within moments.

When the last werewolf was gone, there was a long, pregnant silence. Harry and Scrimgeour stared at the three newcomers, and Scrimgeour was about to slip his softening cock out of Harry, but Harry’s muscles clamped around him and held him in. He felt like rolling his eyes.

Prince Vlad was the first to speak. He cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Harry, we’re so glad that we finally found you—now, if you would just release yourself from Scrimgeour and take your soulmate instead…”

“What?” Harry snarled. It looked like things were going to be harder than they thought.

“Your soulmate, Harry,” said Vlad with patience. “He’s here, and he wishes to complete the Bond.”

Harry stood there, staring, obviously a bit surprised to be asked to do such a thing now. Finally, somewhat reluctantly, Harry released Scrimgeour’s cock and moved away just far enough to turn around and faced them. He easily summoned his wand into his hand and aimed it at them. At first, he wasn’t sure who to point his wand at, but then settled on Snape, whom was the one he hated the most out of everyone there.

Draco furrowed his brows at the scene Harry was making and stepped forward to say something, but Vlad stepped in front of him and interrupted.

“Harry, there’s no time to waste. If you don’t complete your Bond with Mr. Malfoy now, your soul will disappear for good, and we’ll have to be forced to kill you. You don’t want that, do you?”

“You’ll kill me?” Harry sneered. “I don’t think so…”

“Don’t be stupid, Potter!” Snape shouted. “If your soul dies, then the Dark Lord wins!”

“Say it, Snape,” growled Harry, taking a few steps closer, not caring that he was still naked and erect. “Say Voldemort’s bloody name!” When Snape shivered at hearing the name, Harry snarled, “It’s not going to kill you to say his name! If you don’t say it, I’ll think of you as a coward forever, and I won’t think about bonding with my so-called soulmate.”

“So-called?” Draco gasped. “What do you mean by that? Isn’t it enough that I’m bloody suffering while you go off shagging everyone else? HUH?”

“I’ve shagged you already, Malfoy,” said Harry. “What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal, Harry, is that your bond with Draco isn’t completed,” said Scrimgeour from behind, placing a hand onto Harry’s shoulder. “Draco is hurting because of it.”

Harry stared at Scrimgeour, and then looked back over at Snape, Draco, and Vlad. He still didn’t understand, and the monster within him was starting to grow again.

“What the hell do I have to do, then?” Harry asked, mostly from curiosity. He wasn’t sure if he liked the idea of completing his bond with Draco now, for some unfathomable reason.

“You have to bite him,” said Vlad simply. “You must take Draco, join with him, and then take his blood. It is the only way to get you cured at the moment…”

Harry laughed—it was both hypnotizing and achingly beautiful. “My only cure? What happened to the potion your mediwitch was making?”

“It isn’t ready yet,” said Vlad. “It won’t be ready for another week… but by then it might be too late.”

Harry stared, and then lowered his wand. His cock, however, was still hard and bobbing in the air. Draco couldn’t help watching it, a bead of sweat sliding down the side of his face.

“So now, after all this time, Malfoy is agreeing to let me bite him?” Harry spat, a disgusted look on his face. “Don’t make me laugh! You two have him under a spell. There’s no way he’d agree to let me take his blood.”

“But it’s true…” Vlad began.

“It is not,” Harry interrupted. “Every time I try to bite the little bastard, he always starts crying. It’s so annoying! So, forget it… I don’t want his blood.”

Draco gasped, sheer terror on his face. He fell to his knees and began to tremble uncontrollably.

“No, Potter, you can’t do this to me!” he cried. “I NEED YOU, DAMN IT!”

Harry stared at him with dispassionate eyes. Everyone watched in silence. To their surprise and horror, Harry turned away. The look in Draco’s eyes was so heartbreaking, it even bothered Prince Vlad to see it.

“I will take anyone’s blood but yours,” said Harry quietly and unemotionally.

“No…” Draco whispered dejectedly.

“Harry,” said Scrimgeour firmly. “If you don’t take Draco’s blood now, your soul will vanish—you’ll become a soulless one—and Draco might die from not completing the Bond with you. Do you really want that?”

Harry didn’t respond right away, but after a full minute of silence, he turned around to face them again, and was just about to open his mouth to speak when they were interrupted by the sound of growling. The werewolves were back.

“Oh, just great,” sneered Snape. “While you’ve been arguing about taking Draco, those hairy mongrels have returned!”

“Oh… shit…” Scrimgeour groaned. “Greyback…”

“What?” Draco said, getting on his feet again and looking horrified. The moment he saw the giant beast known as Greyback, he hid behind Snape, but then thought better of it and quickly ran to hide behind Harry instead. Harry—for reasons unknown even to himself—pulled Draco closer to him in a protective manner. Snape quickly cocked his crossbow again and tried to take aim at Greyback, but another werewolf nearby swiped at it, breaking it in two. They were surrounded.

“What should we do?” Draco said in a small, shaky voice. Prince Vlad aimed his own crossbow at the werewolves in a threatening manner, waiting to see which one would attack them first.

Scrimgeour, although still naked, helped position them so that all their backs were together. Draco wanted to keep hiding behind Harry (also still naked), but he had no choice but to take his own crossbow out and aim it at the beasts.

“Well, thanks to you, Potter, we’re dead,” snarled Snape. “Any regrets?”

“Only one,” Harry said.

But whatever it was, Snape didn’t get a chance to ask—the werewolves began to charge on Greyback’s command. This was much, much worse than taking on Remus when he was a werewolf—MUCH worse. The only up side to it was that at least Harry and Scrimgeour couldn’t become werewolves if bitten.

But then, as if someone had heard Draco’s pleads inside his head, there came a thunderous howl on all sides – the werewolves stopped in their tracks, mere inches away from them. Draco recoiled in horror that one of the werewolves was about to latch onto his forearm, which he had held up in defense of his face. Greyback didn’t like that they stopped their attack, growling and snarling at them, nipping at their backsides, but then the howling got louder, and it finally gave Greyback pause.

Before Draco could even squeak out his surprise, they all saw it: many shining, bright eyes surrounded them from the shadows, and the moment one of them moved its head into the moonlight, there was a collective sigh of relief. It seemed they were saved… by a hundred Daywalkers!

Taking advantage of the moment, Prince Vlad shouted, “Transform into wolves and take our friends to safety!”

Although the monster inside him wanted to revolt, Harry couldn’t help agree more about getting the hell out of there. He knew he could take them on, but saving his soulmate from the jaws of those beasts was main priority. He transformed into a wolf—as did Scrimgeour and Vlad—and Draco immediately mounted him. Snape climbed onto Scrimgeour, and together they leaped over the werewolves and took off for safety, passing between a couple unknown Daywalkers. Draco held onto Harry’s neck as he fought to stay on, and just when Harry turned a corner to make his way toward a safety hut, he realized that Vlad wasn’t with them.

Harry skidded to a halt, almost unseating Draco in the process. He turned back to see that Vlad was in the fray with the other Daywalkers, fighting for their lives. Something in him broke at the sight – he wanted to join them, to join his brothers—his Order of the Dragon—but the weight of his soulmate on him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and a hot breath in his ear told him otherwise, as did Scrimgeour when he noticed that Harry had stopped. He nudged Harry and gave him a look that told him that they needed to get going. He couldn’t fight it, so he followed his Sire deep into the woods, not looking back, even though the sound of fighting made his chest hurt with an emotion he thought was long gone.

.-.

“Greyback better be doing what he promised he’d do,” grumbled Nott senior from under his hood.

“He will, or our Lord will kill him,” said Crabbe.

The two elder Death Eaters carefully stood in front of one of the entrances into the Black Forest, keeping watch like they’d been told. Voldemort was the reason why Greyback and his clan were there instead of in the Forbidden Forest. They had dispatched a few of his Death Eaters around Hogwarts, waiting for McGonagall or any of the other professors to drop their guard. Miraculously, Hogwarts still had all its protections up, but Voldemort suspected they had been down for maybe a week until McGonagall or some other wizard replaced them. He was sure that the enchantments and spells around the castle weren’t as strong as the ones Dumbledore had had on them, so they were just waiting for the right time. They were supposed to strike when the moon was full, but Voldemort had gotten impatient and ordered his army to attack a day early. There were more than just Death Eaters at his disposal.

But, right before the full moon, Voldemort had suddenly called a halt to the attack on Hogwarts. The Death Eaters didn’t know why their Lord decided to stop since, to them, they were winning. But Voldemort had said something about something more important at the time, and called a retreat. Whatever it was, it had to do with the Black Forest. Voldemort never said what exactly he had planned; he never told them, his loyal followers, anything!

Nott sighed, bored out of his mind, and leaned back against a tree. With nothing more to say to each other, Crabbe sat on the ground, took out his wand, and began to polish it. Nott ignored him, staring up at the sky as he reminded himself that what they were doing was important to their Lord, even if it felt quite the opposite. Why wouldn’t the Dark Lord confide in them? Wheren’t they his friends?

“Crabbe,” said Nott after a couple minutes of silence. “Why do we need to stand here at the entrance? What are we waiting for?”

“Who knows?” Crabbe grumbled. “I don’t question the Dark Lord, and neither should you.”

Nott sighed quietly and tried not to roll his eyes. “Still, why do we need to stand guard? What if one of Greyback’s werewolves finds us and kills us?”

“We’re too far away for them to notice,” Crabbe mumbled, clearly annoyed by his companion. “Shut up, now, I’m trying to concentrate.”

Nott really did roll his eyes now. It didn’t take that much concentration just to polish your wand. Then again, this was Crabbe; he wasn’t the sharpest stick in the bundle. Still, he knew he shouldn’t question the Dark Lord, but lately he seemed to have gone mad; something—or someone—must have really ticked the Dark Lord off. Nott was glad that Theodore hadn’t been given a job like this yet. He didn’t know what he’d do if anything happened to his only son.

After a full five minutes of silence, there came a sudden howl. All the hairs on the back of Nott’s head stood up. He jerked away from the tree and took out his wand, looking around nervously. His mask suddenly felt wet with sweat. Crabbe raised his head and stared at him.

“Settle down. They’re far away.”

“That didn’t sound like it was too far away to me,” whispered Nott frighteningly. “Look, you can wait there to be eaten by a werewolf, but I’m not.”

“The Dark Lord will be furious if he finds out you disobeyed him.”

“I—” Nott began, but then another chilling howl split the air, and he jumped about a foot. “I don’t care! I’m out of here!” And with that, he Disapparated.

Crabbe stood, eyes wide. “Nott! You—Get back here!”

A growl sounded from his left, and Crabbe was rooted to the spot. He dared not look, but then he heard a snarl and couldn’t help turning his head toward the source. His stomach plummeted. There were five werewolves staring him in the face.

“HOLY-!”

A pair of jaws silenced him.

.-.

In the safety of the hut, the Daywalkers transformed back from wolf form—Draco and Snape dismounted—and Scrimgeour immediately put a muffling charm on the door (he couldn’t put up a locking spell yet because there were other Daywalkers on their way there). The entire hut was protected by spells. Once done with that, he turned to face his Fledgling.

Harry was looking out the window, opposite him. Draco was sitting on the cot that was in the corner, staring at Harry’s back with a hopeful look in his eyes. Snape was standing beside him, arms folded across his chest.

“Harry,” said Scrimgeour softly. Harry turned his head. “You must complete your Bond—your Marriage of the Souls—before its too late.”

Harry stared blankly at his Sire. Draco colored at the mention of marriage again.

“My what of the souls?” said Harry.

“Marriage,” said Scrimgeour without embarrassment. “I’m sorry the term sounds a bit frightening”—he flashed a small grin—“but that’s the only word that fits. And if you don’t, well—just look at him,” Scrimgeour waved a hand at Draco. “He’s suffering without you, Harry. You must complete the Bond.”

“And what if I refuse?” Harry said defiantly.

“I told you already—“

“Don’t waste your breath, Minister,” sneered Snape. “Potter’s always had trouble following orders. You picked the wrong person to make your Fledgling.”

Scrimgeour’s eyes flashed dangerously. “So, you rather that I just left Harry to the soulless ones?”

“He’s becoming a soulless one now!” Snape snarled. “What’s the difference?”

“The difference, my infuriating friend, is that Harry’s soul isn’t gone, yet. We can still save it.”

“Obviously Potter doesn’t think he needs saving,” snarled Snape. “Do you, Potter?” he quickly cut his glare at Harry, who was still looking defiant.

Harry seemed to not have anything to say to that, and just snorted and turned back around to stare out the window again.

“You see?” said Snape, annoyed. “Even when he’s dying he’s insolent! If Potter doesn’t want to save his own soul and defeat the Dark Lord, then I guess there’s nothing we can do… except rely on the Ministry to handle things.”

Silence filled the room for a full minute, and then Harry turned around. At first, they thought he was going to go straight to Draco, but then he changed course and walked up to Snape, eyes shining with what one could only call wickedness.

Harry got into Snape’s face, but Snape didn’t back down, although it was evident that he was uncomfortable with how close Harry was to him. From about a foot away, Scrimgeour could smell the death that surrounded Harry again.

“Are you saying I can’t defeat Voldemort?” Harry hissed. When Snape winced from the name, Harry growled low in his throat. “Damn it all, Snape, it’s just a name! I want to hear you say it.”

The sneer on Snape’s face got uglier. “No.”

Harry matched his sneer. “Coward.”

The silence after that was deafening. Snape’s hand twitched, as if wanting to go for his wand, but he didn’t move; he just glared at Harry with the same old hatred he’d had for Harry back in the school days.

“What have I told you before, Potter?” Snape growled in a deadly tone. “Don’t call me coward.”

“Say his name, then,” said Harry in about the same tone as Snape. “Say it, Snape.” When Snape wouldn’t answer, Harry opened his mouth to say something more, but Scrimgeour decided to intervene.

“Look, I think you two should argue about this issue later. Right now we have a more pressing matter.” He jerked his head at Draco, who was hugging his knees, rocking back and forth in the middle of the cot, staring off into space. “Harry, please … before he starts thinking about killing himself.”

“And if you still wish to defeat the Dark Lord,” said Snape in a clipped tone, “I suggest you complete your Bond and get yourself cured.”

When Harry didn’t move, Scrimgeour placed a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder, looking at him imploringly. “Please, Harry… what would Prince Vlad say?”

At the mention of Vlad, Harry felt a small shiver go through his spine. He looked down at the Order of the Dragon ring on his finger, his eyes going out of focus.

“Prince Vlad…” Harry whispered. “Master…” Then he suddenly jolted as if someone had pinched him. “He’s still out there fighting!”

“He’ll be fine,” Scrimgeour reassured him. “He’s the oldest and strongest Daywalker in the world. Harry, don’t complete your bond just for Vlad, or yourself, or for Draco even. Do it for me, your Sire.”

Scrimgeour knew that Harry should cure himself for himself, but he wanted to use whatever tactic he could to get Harry to comply.

“Do it for the wizarding world,” added Snape when he saw the look in Harry’s eyes change from the evilness it had been.

There was a fight going through his brain, and Snape and Scrimgeour knew it. Harry’s face took on so many emotions, changing rapidly, that they weren’t sure just what Harry was thinking. The monster inside Harry’s head was battling it out with what was left of Harry’s human emotions. After a full three minutes of this, Harry started to crumble, placing his hands over his face and falling to his knees. Snape eyed him warily, and then looked at Scrimgeour for answers.

“It’s his soul,” said Scrimgeour softly. “It’s fighting with the power-hungry, poisoned monster. Unfortunately, I have no idea how long it’ll last.”

Snape made a movement toward Harry, but Scrimgeour stopped him with an arm. “No, don’t go near him. This is one battle that we cannot interfere with. He must prevail on his own.”

“What about…” Snape began, looking back at Draco, whom was now lying in a fetal position and biting the tip of his thumb. “Wouldn’t Draco be able to…”

Scrimgeour shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe. Prince Vlad would know for certain, but…”

“…He’s not here,” said Snape, finally understanding.

All they could do was watch as Harry had his inner battle with himself, shaking and groaning on the floor.

TBC

There’s a chance that I won’t be able to post the next part until next Friday and not Wednesday. So, next week, if I hadn’t posted the next part yet on Wednesday, then check back on Friday. Thanks for reading!