A Vampire's Soul

A Vampire’s Soul, chapter twenty-four

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 7,080 (wow!!)

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). This is pre-HBP.

More notes: Another kind of vampire will reveal itself.

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 23rd – July 13th, 2007

.-.

There was a rumor among the Daywalkers that a different kind of vampire liked to lurk around the edges of the Black Forest, just waiting for a Daywalker to wander too far away from its territory. The rumor was met with a grain of salt, at first. After a while, the rumor grew after five Daywalkers were found dead from what could only be vampire bites.

In the beginning, it was believed to be the work of the soulless ones, but it was realized soon after that that if a soulless one bit you, you’d eventually become one of them. They would drink you dry, or poison you and then you’d slowly lose your mind, and your soul. You’d become one of them.

Prince Vlad figured that it was just a Daywalker that had gone bad, a Dark One, but not quite like a soulless one. It was very rare if a Daywalker wanted to bite another Daywalker unless it was their Fledgling, Sire (out of passion), or they were in a vicious fight, which was rare as well.

But even if a Daywalker would bite another Daywalker, they wouldn’t drain the blood until the other Daywalker was nothing but an empty shell. No, there was definitely something else out there doing this. Unfortunately, they never found the other vampire. They didn’t know what they were looking for, and didn’t know how to track it down. It was stealthier than the stealthiest Daywalker.

At least, that was what was thought.

.-.

“The full moon is nearly down,” groaned Xavier behind the bushes, watching as Prince Vlad and a handful of others take care of the last werewolves. The ground was littered with dead bodies, both werewolves and Daywalkers alike.

The other Daywalker, Barnard, was panting from the fight. His arm was nearly torn from its socket and he had a giant gash across his back.

“Good thing,” said Barnard. “I don’t think we could take any more of this. We lost almost half our army.”

Fornax Xavier frowned; nodding in agreement, and then shook his head forlornly. “I hope Potter made it to the safety hut.” Like Barnard, Xavier was also sporting his own injuries. He wasn’t as bad, but he was still limping, and it felt as if someone was drumming on the inside of his skull.

“Knowing him, he did,” said Barnard. He squeezed his eyes shut in pain and horror when another Daywalker hit the ground, dead. He wanted to go back into the fray and help, but he knew he was in no shape to do so.

“Knowing Scrimgeour, he’d make sure they’d make it,” said Xavier. He glanced over at Barnard, who was looking squirrelly, wanting to join the fight and help their fellow Daywalkers. “Stay calm. There’s nothing you can do.”

Barnard snarled. “I know, but this is so infuriating!”

Unfortunately, he said that a bit too loudly, and the nearest werewolf, who was bloody and bruised from battle, leaped at them over the bushes. They both tried to leap out of the way. The werewolf got a hold of Barnard’s ankle and tried to drag him backwards into the open.

“Craaaap!” Barnard shouted, digging his fingernails into the dirt. He was a Muggle-made Daywalker; therefore, he had no magic to defend himself.

“Michael!” Xavier shouted, flinging himself forward to grab hold of Barnard’s hands. He tried to pull him to safety, but Barnard was screaming in pain from his arm being pulled even more out of its socket. Xavier concentrated on just using Barnard’s good arm, but when the werewolf was proving to be much stronger than him, he took out his wand with one hand, keeping hold of Barnard with the other, and aimed it at the werewolf’s head.

“Expell—“ he begun, but he was unable to finish. The werewolf released Barnard to pounce on him. His wand went flying and landed in the bushes.

“Fornax!” Barnard cried. He tried to get up to help, in any way he could, but he was too late. The werewolf got a hold of Xavier’s throat and quickly snapped it in two. “NOOOO!”

The werewolf turned, blood and spit running down its jaws and eyes gleaming yellow. Barnard’s vision was blurring from sudden tears, and he tried to transform into a wolf to attack, but his wounded arm was bothering him too badly to concentrate. He had a fleeting thought of running away, but the sight of Xavier—his Sire—dead, made him want to join him.

“All right, then!” Barnard screamed, tears streaking down his face. “COME AND TAKE ME, YOU SON OF A BITCH!”

The werewolf lunged, jaws wide and about to hit their mark, but then the werewolf was thrown aside by a red jet-stream of magic. Barnard wiped at his eyes furiously and turned to see who his rescuer was.

“Don’t give up, Barnard!” shouted Patrick Mizar.

Barnard fell to his knees at Xavier’s body. All he could do was cry. Patrick saw the body, recognized it as Xavier, and felt his throat constrict. He understood Barnard’s grief, but letting yourself get killed in the middle of a battle wasn’t the way to go about it. The death of a loved one—especially a Sire—made you want to die yourself, but there was no way Patrick was going to let him die just because his Sire died; if he could prevent as many deaths as he could, he would, no matter what.

The werewolf wouldn’t be out of commission for long; he had to get Barnard out of there. He could already tell that the young Daywalker’s arm was in need of mending. He looked around to make sure that no one else was in more danger, and went to Barnard.

“Come on, get up,” he urged. “Go hide… or go to the safety hut. You can’t do anymore here.”

“…He’s gone…” Barnard whimpered. “Just… just gone…”

Patrick lowered himself to Barnard’s side and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I know, my friend. There’s nothing you can do, though. Besides, Fornax wouldn’t want you to die needlessly. Go and get your arm mended. I think Asa already left the fight, along with a few others, and are on their way to the hut.”

Barnard lowered his face between his knees, dark brown hair falling around his face. Patrick, again, found himself victim to comforting another. This was Nicholas’s expertise, not his.

“Michael,” he said softly. “Please do it. For me?”

“Patrick,” Barnard sobbed. “My Sire’s dead . . . . I couldn’t save him…”

“Shh, it’ll be OK. Now get moving or I’ll make you move.”

After a long moment, Barnard nodded sadly, and stood on shaky feet. Patrick turned his head to watch as the last of the fight began to ebb away. Only two really big werewolves were left, and it looked like his Master was doing fine, as well as the other Daywalkers.

“I’ll come with you,” he said, resigning himself to helping the Muggle Youth. He put an arm around Barnard and together they disappeared into the woods.

.-.

My soul will vanish…

‘So?’ the monster said. ‘Better this way… won’t have to worry about upsetting anyone, or worrying about anyone’s well being… just take blood.’

But they’ll kill me!

‘Because they’re scared of you!’ growled the monster. ‘They don’t want you to become strong. You’re much stronger without a soul!’

No, that’s not true. My soul, the love I have for others, can defeat Voldemort! And I don’t want to become like Voldemort and have no complete soul!

‘You’ll be weak!’

No!

‘Yes, you will!’

No!!

‘You cannot fight me; I’m right…’

“No you’re not!” Harry screamed, startling everyone in the room. Draco nearly fell off the bed, Snape sneered in his direction, and Scrimgeour twitched as if he wanted to go to Harry, but didn’t dare.

After another five minutes of this, Snape began to get annoyed. He looked from Harry to Draco and then made up his mind. He grabbed Draco by the arm (because he was too unnerved to touch Potter), and hauled him up and off the cot, dragged him over to where Harry was sitting on the floor, and plonked him down next to Harry.

Draco looked up at Snape in confusion, eyes a little red. Snape rolled his eyes, a slight sneer on his face, and said, “Draco, don’t make me say it…”

“Say what?” Draco gulped.

Snape growled a little, looking pale. “Put your arms around… around Potter.”

“What?”

“Do it!” Snape bellowed, his cheeks a little pink. “Don’t make me tell you again!”

Draco obeyed, wrapping his arms around Harry.

The reaction was immediate; Harry stopped trembling and mumbling to himself. It was a full minute of silence before Harry moved, but instead of embracing Draco like they’d hoped, he swung an arm around and knocked Draco flat on his back. Cursing, Draco got back up and tried putting his arms around Harry again, knowing full well now what Snape was thinking: If Harry was surrounded by the smell of his soulmate, it might snap him out of it and get him to finish their bond.

However, Harry kept fighting, but Draco was persistent. They wrestled around on the floor for a few minutes; Draco tried to get the better of Harry, but Harry still had the strength of twenty men and had Draco pinned beneath him before Draco could figure out what was happening. Draco stared up at Harry with pleading eyes, and for a moment it looked as if Harry wasn’t going to give in. Draco thought fast.

He lifted his chin to show Harry more throat, a menacing gleam in his eyes, as he said, “You don’t have the guts to bite me.”

“You’re right,” Harry said in a very low and eerie voice. “I’m not letting you trick me.”

“I’m your soulmate, Potter! You can’t deny me!”

“You never wanted me to bite you before, so why should I believe you now?”

“I consent to you! I swear!”

“I don’t believe you.”

Draco was at his wit’s end, arguing with Harry. His head was swimming; it was getting harder to think, especially with Harry over him, touching him, his eyes looking wild and unearthly. Without knowing what else to do, frustration getting the better of him, fat tears began to fall from the corners of his eyes.

“Please, Harry… I NEED you…”

Everyone held their breaths as they watched the two stare at each other, unwavering. No one dared to move.

Then, after what felt like hours, Harry slowly lowered himself to Draco’s face. Draco was too afraid to move or speak. Harry stopped an inch before Draco’s lips, gaze still steady and wild, and then finally—FINALLY—Harry closed the gap between them.

The entire room let out a collective breath. As Harry and Draco’s kiss continued, it grew more hot and needy. Draco whimpered from both the fierce need in his chest and the scrapes against his lips from Harry’s fangs; they had grown to enormous proportions by the time Harry released Draco from the kiss.

Bits of blood slid down the corners of Draco’s mouth as he stared at Harry, panting heavily; his heart was pounding hard in its ribcage. Was this it? Was Harry finally going to take him?

The door to the hut burst open and in rambled a handful of Daywalkers. Harry broke eye contact with Draco and looked up to glare at those that interrupted him.

Most of the Daywalkers had injuries as they ambled in. The last Daywalker to enter the hut and shut the door behind them was Asa Nodes, the Healer. She barked a few orders to the Youths and Fledglings to take seats or to lie down and let her do her job. A minute later, Patrick Mizar entered, dragging a haggard-looking Daywalker that Harry didn’t recognize, but he did recognize the hurt in the Daywalker’s face. Something terrible had happened.

“Patrick! Michael!” Asa cried in relief. “Oh my stars, what’s wrong with Michael?”

Patrick gingerly placed Barnard onto one of the sofas next to an injured Daywalker who looked to be staring at the ceiling with crossed eyes.

He stared at Asa, as if debating whether he should say anything or not, but everyone was going to find out sooner or later, so he decided to just come out with it.

“Xavier’s dead.”

“No!” said Asa in a small voice, her hand nearly covering her mouth in shock. “He can’t be. . . . He’s so strong, and an ace fighter… it just can’t be true!”

“I’m afraid so,” said Patrick softly, a hint of sadness in it. “He died saving Michael.”

Barnard suddenly let out a long, piercing wail, as if the news of his Sire’s death had just hit him. Those nearest to him had to cover their ears. The pain of losing one’s Sire or Fledgling—or even their soulmate—was immeasurable. The emotional bond broken, the soul will feel as if it were split in two - and not in a way that went unnoticed.

Harry was wincing from the noise, his instincts telling him to make it stop in any way possible, so he got off Draco and started toward Barnard, but Snape stopped him by grabbing the back of his robe. Harry turned around and snapped his teeth at him, and Snape let go out of mostly shock from Harry’s sudden threat.

“Don’t try me, Snape,” Harry snarled. “I’m in the mood right now for some blood, and you don’t want it to be yours.”

“Why?” Snape sneered. “Because I might get poisoned, or because I’ll get Turned into a soulless one?”

Harry growled, sounding just like a wolf, and took a step toward Snape. Snape had tried to stand his ground, but he couldn’t help taking a step back so that Harry wasn’t right in his face.

“NO, because I might drain you dry and kill you!” Harry thundered.

His threat and booming voice got everyone’s attention. It was suddenly realized that they had a very dangerous Daywalker in the room with them that was almost a soulless one. It was one thing to be surrounded by a pack of mean-spirited werewolves, but it was all together another matter when it came to being faced with a soulless one—Near or otherwise; especially one that they knew they shouldn’t kill.

“Asa, do something,” whispered William Price, one of the Youth Daywalkers, in a frightened voice.

“What?” she demanded. “I can’t do anything.”

“But you’re a Healer!”

“Doesn’t mean I know how to control or heal someone that’s a Near Soulless one.”

“I do,” said Scrimgeour abruptly.

“I’m sure I speak for all when I say we don’t want to watch you mounting Potter,” said Snape. “Again,” he added, remembering the way it looked to see Scrimgeour attached to Potter’s bottom.

“No, besides that,” said Scrimgeour, remarkably calm. “It’s not just sex that calms a vampire’s soul.”

“Well?” said Snape impatiently. “What else?”

“Kissing…”

Snape choked. “I refuse…”

“We’re not asking you to kiss Harry.”

It was Harry’s turn to choke. “Excuse me? What the hell are you talking about? I don’t need calming! And I certainly don’t need to be kissed by Snape! I need blood!”

But he had been kissing Draco, Harry’s mind reminded him. His monster didn’t like it, but it filled his soul with more energy . . . and more time to live.

“What else, Scrimgeour?” Snape demanded rather urgently, eyeing Harry warily.

“Tears, which you saw Mr. Malfoy already provide, besides the kissing, but I doubt I could get all of you to suddenly start crying.”

Snape sighed, rolling his eyes. “Anything else, or should we all start making out our wills?”

“Music,” said Scrimgeour casually.

“Music,” repeated Snape, sounding somewhat incredulous. “And where are we supposed to find a wireless at this time of night? We’re in the middle of the Black Forest!”

“I’ll show you,” said Scrimgeour. He walked composedly to a window, opened it, and then let out a loud, high-pitched whistle.

All of a sudden, right before their eyes, there was a bright red phoenix sitting on the windowsill. Everyone, even Harry, stared in shock and awe.

“How did you…” started Snape, surprisingly a little speechless. “When did you…?”

Scrimgeour turned his head and smiled knowingly at him. “It’s…”

“…Fawkes?”

Everyone turned to stare at Harry, who’d been the one to utter the name. It was apparent that Harry was stunned more so than the others to see the phoenix. He thought Fawkes was gone when Dumbledore… well, maybe Fawkes left Hogwarts, but apparently it wasn’t dead.

The moment Fawkes’s eyes landed on Harry, it let out a beautiful trill. It was aimed at Harry, and Harry could feel a sudden weight lifted off his chest. He had no idea what it was and it was starting to scare him. The monster within him was cringing in agony and fighting with his sanity. He wanted to stay – he wanted to run – he wanted to hide.

“Harry,” said Draco softly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

It startled Harry so badly he lashed out, knocking Draco’s hand off his shoulder, and ran to the door.

“Don’t let him escape!” Snape shouted.

But it was too late. Before any of the other Daywalkers could get in Harry’s way, Harry had yanked the door open, transformed into a wolf, and ran out. Nighttime was nearly over, but there were still dangerous werewolves roaming the woods, and they all knew it.

“Harry!” Draco cried, looking hurt. He tried to go after Harry, but Snape grabbed him by the back of his robe and pulled him back.

“Don’t go out there, you idiot! It’s dangerous.”

“But Harry is…”

“We’ll go after him,” said Scrimgeour. He nodded at the other more healthy Daywalkers and they nodded in return. They knew what was required of them.

“I’m coming with you!” Draco argued.

“No,” Snape started. “You…”

“Yes,” huffed Draco. “If I don’t complete my bond with him, he’ll die, won’t he?”

Snape couldn’t argue with that. “Yes, but…”

“Then I need to be with him!”

Before Snape could stop Draco, he was also out the door.

Everyone was shocked for only a moment, but then a few Daywalkers quickly followed, transformed into wolves, noses to the ground.

.-.

Draco ran faster than he had ever run before in his life. One of his worst fears had been werewolves, but right now, at this very moment, he could care less. He knew, deep down, that if he didn’t complete his bond with Harry now, he’ll die—and so will Harry. Months ago—no, years, he wouldn’t have cared whether Harry lived or died, but now it was the main thing driving him, the one thing that made him act like a bloody Gryffindor.

The Daywalkers were running along with him, either behind him or beside him. In a way, he felt less scared with them there. At least if a werewolf did try to attack him, he’d have the Daywalkers there to protect him. It was a good thing they were very devoted to Harry, and that Harry was his soulmate.

It wasn’t complete, but the mere thought of Harry being his soulmate made his heart constrict tightly in his chest. It actually felt good, this tightness, but he was sure it would feel even better to have Harry take him.

A few quick strides later, a small pack of werewolves bounded out from the woods and tried to attack him, but the Daywalkers blocked their path to him, and they began to fight. Draco ran for it, knowing that they would keep the werewolves busy while he went in search of Harry. One Daywalker stayed with him, however, nose to the ground, as he helped Draco to track Harry down.

They came to a clearing, and it looked to be the same one the fight had taken place in, but it was smaller. There was evidence of a battle being held. Blood, dead bodies—werewolves and Daywalkers—and destroyed shrubbery. The Daywalker that was with him sniffed the ground, walking in circles, as if he lost Harry’s trail. Draco cursed aloud at the inconvenience, but he watched silently and patiently, hoping the Daywalker would find Harry’s scent soon.

A few seconds later, he suddenly realized that the Daywalker with him was Scrimgeour. The big, tawny colored wolf looked somewhat haggard, anxious, and hopeful. It wasn’t too surprising to find he was the one with him. Being Harry’s Sire, it must be just as unnerving to lose Harry.

But they hadn’t lost Harry. The reason for them losing Harry’s trail was suddenly understood when Draco was yanked by someone and then thrown against a tree. Harry must have been up that very tree, because there were leaves and twigs in his hair.

“Harry!” Draco gasped, surprised by the sudden manhandling and seeing Harry so close to his face. Harry’s eyes were wild and glowing brightly, fangs long and trails of blood trickling down his chin. Draco wasn’t sure if that was still his own blood or if Harry had been feeding again.

“Draco,” Harry whispered gruffly. “Give me one good reason why I should complete my bond with you, other than saving my worthless soul.”

Draco was so startled and afraid of giving the wrong answer, he could only open and close his mouth a few times, before finally closing it and swallowing hard. Harry didn’t look particularly happy with Draco’s speechlessness.

“Answer me, Malfoy!” Harry snarled, slamming Draco into the tree. Draco gasped from the force and from hitting the back of his head against the bark. His vision began to swim before him.

“If I pass out, it’s your fault,” Draco mumbled. He vaguely wondered what happened to Scrimgeour.

Harry was so close now he could feel his nose pressed against his own. Draco did his best to keep eye contact but it was so hard with bright, white dots floating in his vision.

“Time’s ticking,” Harry said sternly.

Draco didn’t know about Harry, but the scent that he could smell wasn’t death, which was what usually surrounded Harry; it was the unmistakable aroma of his soulmate, he knew that now. That smell used to scare him, and made him lash out and not want anything to do with Potter, but now… now it was calling to him and he could no longer deny it.

“Harry,” Draco started slowly. “Your soul… it’s not worthless. Everyone knows this. You’ve always been the light in people’s darkness and have shined no matter what anyone said about you. You’ve proven them all wrong about you after being Turned into a Daywalker. They thought the world was doomed to be ruled by V-V-Voldemort forever.”

Harry’s untamed look suddenly looked sober at the sound of Draco’s voice uttering Voldemort’s name.

“It’s not doomed, Harry,” said Draco softly. “And you know why? Because you know for a fact that you’re not a monster. And you’re loved by many.”

Harry’s wicked gleam dulled, and his grip on Draco’s shirt loosened. “I’m—I’m not a monster…”

Draco nodded. “Yes, Harry, you’re not. You’re Harry Potter, the greatest sorcerer in the world, and you will defeat Voldemort with that giant heart of yours.”

Harry automatically placed a hand over his heart. There was no thumping, but it did hurt. Why did it hurt? What was wrong with him?

“Harry?” Draco said softly. “What’s wrong?”

Harry was itching his chest, and then it turned from mere itching to harsh scratching. “My hea—chest, it’s hurting. . . . What’s going on? What’s wrong with me?”

“Harry!” Draco gasped, eyes bulging. Was it actually happening? Was Harry getting his heartbeat back?

Before he could figure it out, he had an armful of Harry Potter. Harry’s mouth was cold and slimy on his, but his breath was hot. Draco kissed back as hard as he was getting it. There were hands scrambling for Draco’s tie, and Draco wasn’t sure if it was his own or Harry’s, because there were hands undoing Harry’s tie as well, and then there was no shirt on either of them, skin pressed tightly against skin, lips mashing, hands wandering, and hips crashing against each other’s.

Draco thought he was going to combust inside and out. When their naked skin touched, he felt as if he were on fire. He could no longer feel the tree at his back or the ground under his feet; he could only feel Harry and the things he was doing to him.

He hissed at the feel of sharp teeth on his shoulder. He thought it was the first small bite Harry made, but the abrupt pain made him realize that he had small bite marks all over his skin. Harry wasn’t holding back with his kisses or love nips.

Harry kissed at Draco’s jaw, and then nipped two small holes there. He moved down to the bottom of Draco’s chin, kissed him there and then bit. He kept going down, nipping along the way. The sudden pain in his shoulder made him hiss and then brought a hand up to thread in Harry’s hair. Draco wasn’t sure if he was enjoying the bites or if he was scared, but he knew deep down that he wanted this; he wanted Harry as his own.

He never thought he’d think of Harry as his, and it was confusing him too much, so he decided to dwell on it later. Right now, his body and soul was screaming for Harry.

The sun was nearly up, making the sky a pale pink. Harry hissed in pain at the feel of the sunlight on his back, but he didn’t stop touching and kissing Draco. However, when Draco laid his hands over Harry’s back, Draco gasped aloud and tried to pull Harry away.

“Harry, wait… your back,” he said worryingly.

“What about it?” Harry demanded with a growl, licking at Draco’s jugular.

“It’s burning!”

Draco was right. His back was starting to blister and bubble from the sunlight creeping its way up his body. It was impossible! He wasn’t a soulless one.

Or was he?

Harry threw his head back and screamed in pain as the sun started to peak over the horizon. Harry was starting to burn to a crisp!

“NO!” Draco screamed, wrapping his arms around Harry tightly. “Harry, don’t you dare die on me…”

The only rational thought Draco had now was to get Harry the hell out of the sun. Thinking of the only safe destination he could, Draco Apparated them both to the entrance of Castle Dracula.

“Draco…” Harry said weakly, slumped over him with the worst looking burn on his back.

“Hold on, Harry, I’ve got you…” Draco tried reassuring him, lifting him into his arms (although Harry’s slimy, burning back was oozing down his forearms), and kicked at the door to knock, since his hands weren’t free. “PLEASE, LET US IN! SOMEONE!”

The door opened immediately and Draco thought nothing of it as he quickly brought Harry in out of the sunlight.

Nicholas Chambers was there. He took in the sight before him and helped Draco to the emergency medical room right away. Most of the Daywalkers were either still out there fighting (which Draco guessed was over with now since the sun was up), or were at the safety hut getting healed by Asa. Oh, hell, they didn’t have a Healer here! What were they going to do?

“Chambers, is there any way that I can help him?” Draco asked, staring at Harry anxiously. They’d put Harry on his stomach, and even though being out of the sunlight was stopping him from being burned anymore, his back was still looking worse than a first-degree burn. Skin was dripping off the sides, oozing down the edge of the medical cot. The middle of Harry’s back was melting off so badly that he could swear he saw Harry’s backbone.

“His body is acting more like a soulless one, so the only solution for now is to complete the bond you two have,” said Nicholas wisely.

“But how… I mean, we were about to when the sun came up. He was already biting me, see?” Draco lifted his chin to show him, but he didn’t need to: he still had his shirt halfway off his body, and small punctures could be seen.

“He hasn’t drunk your blood yet, though,” said Nicholas. “Come on, help me turn him around.”

“But, his back…” said Draco nervously.

“We can’t worry about that right now. He needs you.”

Draco noticed Nicholas looking back wistfully at some door, but there was a more urgent emergency to take care of right now than what was worrying Nicholas.

Taking a deep breath, he helped the Daywalker to turn Harry over onto his back. Harry hissed in pain, but otherwise didn’t say anything. He kept his eyes closed, and Draco was left staring at Harry, not sure what to do.

“You know what to do,” Nicholas said, obviously not able to read Draco’s mind. “Just have him penetrate you, and then drink your blood. You both must want it in order for it to work.”

“I want it,” said Draco, finally realizing just how much he wanted it.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” said Nicholas. He quickly walked away and left the room.

Alone, Draco steeled himself and prepared them both. He took off the rest of his clothes and then Harry’s, carefully, and straddled Harry’s body as he tried not to touch the skin that was slithering off Harry. When Draco grasped Harry’s dick, Harry’s eyes flew open. They looked blank, and it was starting to scare him.

“Harry, I’m consenting to you… I want to be your soulmate. Now and forever.”

“Forever,” repeated Harry hoarsely. He raised his hands up mechanically and gripped Draco’s hips. Draco understood just what he wanted, so he lifted up and leveled himself above Harry’s cock, which was now completely hard. There was no time to prepare himself for the bluntness of Harry’s cock, but that didn’t matter to Draco at the moment, the only thing that mattered was Harry’s soul.

Gritting his teeth for the inevitable, Draco sunk down onto Harry. He threw his head back and screamed. It was a small price to pay.

Harry grabbed Draco’s arms and pulled him down into a weird, sloppy kiss. Draco opened his mouth and allowed Harry to suck and nip on his tongue. Blood flowed freely from his mouth to Harry’s.

“YES,” Harry moaned loudly, grasping the back of Draco’s head hard and plundering Draco’s mouth. Blood dripped from both their mouths, but neither cared. Pain slowly ebbing, Draco began to move. Harry’s hips snapped up in time with Draco’s. Pain, pleasure, want, need… it was all the same thing.

Releasing Harry’s mouth, a line of blood and saliva still attached to their bottom lips, Harry moved down to Draco’s neck. Draco lifted his head, giving himself completely and totally to Harry. His body thrummed in excitement, his cock laid between their sweaty, sticky bodies, pre-come seeping out and dribbling onto Harry’s stomach, mixing with the rest of the fluids.

“Mine,” snarled Harry. His fangs grew so long they were nearly passed his chin. Harry’s senses were on overload at the mere scent of his soulmate. It smelled even better than his Sire – even better than the smell of Prince Vlad’s blood. It was driving him out of his mind.

“Yours,” said Draco in agreement. “Do it, Harry . . . bite me.”

Harry groaned. Holding the back of Draco’s head—the nape of his neck—Harry opened his mouth as wide as it’ll go, eyes rolling into the back of his head, and pierced the skin that had been tempting him since day one.

The results were immediate. Blood—glorious, delectable blood that was better than the fruit of the gods—flowed from Draco’s veins and into Harry’s mouth. Harry’s nails dug into Draco’s nape as he tilted Draco’s head up so that the blood was able to just slide onto his tongue and down his throat.

Draco only felt the pain of Harry’s fangs for a moment, and then it was gone; replaced with immeasurable pleasure. He moaned at both the feel of Harry’s fangs deep inside his neck, and Harry’s cock in his body. They had both stilled while Harry drank, but then Draco grew conscious of their joined bodies and started to move again. Harry hummed appreciatively, snapping his hips up to fuck Draco as hard as he could. Draco snapped his hips down, meeting his soulmate half way, loving the feel of Harry’s cock inside his body and his fangs in his neck. He had no idea why he’d been so afraid of this before—this was spectacular.

Pleasure, ten-fold.

Harry suddenly gasped, retracting his fangs from Draco’s neck. Draco looked down at Harry questionably. Harry had a hand over his heart, cupping it as if he were trying to keep his heart in his chest.

“What?” Draco whispered. Their hips had stilled again.

Harry’s eyes were wide, almost crazy looking, as he stared up at Draco.

“I felt it,” he murmured.

Draco’s jaw dropped, but before he could say anything, Harry rolled them both over, not caring that bits of his skin were still on the sheets. Draco only had time to let out a small gasp in disgust at the feel before Harry’s fangs were back into Draco’s neck and he were sucking the very life out of his body.

Draco wrapped his legs around Harry automatically, and lifted his chin, giving in completely to his soulmate – to Harry James Potter.

.-.

Snape waved his wand at the boulder, moving it away from the cave’s entrance. Carefully, he walked inside, wand lit. When there was no movement, Snape called out, “Lupin?”

“Severus?” Remus said weakly.

Without another word, Snape helped Remus out of the cave and into a robe. They walked out into the morning sun. Remus lifted his face to greet it, the warmth on his skin felt good, compared to the cool, damp cave. He was surprised, however, when he opened his eyes and saw Rufus Scrimgeour and Neal Corvus standing before him.

“All right?” Neal smiled. He looked as if he’d seen better days too, but Remus didn’t want to say anything. Scrimgeour looked worse, though.

“I’m fine,” he said. “How’re you two?”

“We’re good,” said Scrimgeour. “Well, not perfect, but good.”

“So many have died last night,” said Neal softly. “We lost a lot of good men and women.”

Remus bowed his head in respect. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s all right,” said Neal. “There’s nothing you can do about it—there’s nothing any of us could do about it—that’s war.”

Remus nodded, accepting it. But there was something bothering him. He looked up and stared at them, particularly Scrimgeour.

“How’s Harry? He isn’t… He’s fine, right?”

Scrimgeour glanced at Neal before turning his attention back to Remus. He had a grim look on his face, but it wasn’t looking as if he were in mourning.

“Harry’s alive,” he said simply.

Remus let out a breath in relief. “Oh, good.”

“You were calling for Potter before your transformation,” said Snape, sneering slightly. “Does that mean you want to see him now?”

“You’ve read my mind,” smiled Remus. He’d felt a little embarrassed about calling out for Harry during one of his weaker periods, but for now he was relieved to know that Harry was going to be fine.

“Is he… cured?” Remus couldn’t help asking as they made their way to Castle Dracula.

Snape exchanged a look with Scrimgeour and Neal. They nodded, indicating that they knew. Nicholas had owled them, letting them know about Harry’s condition, but that was all he had said in the note.

“As far as we know, he is,” said Neal. “But we must hurry and make sure that Harry is completely cured.”

.-.

“Ruby, are you all right?” Lilith asked, crawling over to her best friend. Ruby grunted in her sleep. “Ruby!”

“What?” said Ruby sleepily, wiping at her eyes. “What’s wif all the shoutin’?”

“Are you all right?” Lilith repeated.

“You know I’m all right,” sighed Ruby. “You keep asking the same thing over and over every time the full moon’s over with and I always tell you the same thing.”

Lilith sighed in relief. “Just making sure.”

“I think you worry too much.”

Lilith smirked. “Well, I am the leader. Let’s go find out if the others are all ok too.”

“Right,” grumbled Ruby. They gathered up their robes, not uncomfortable being naked in front of each other, and made their way out of the room they had locked themselves in. They knew which places their pack mates were hiding and went to check on them.

They were all fine. The only ones missing were Remus and Proudfoot, but that was to be expected. Remus used to be in Greyback’s pack as a spy, but ever since he’d been found out, he’d had to retreat to her pack. Which was just fine with her; they could use all the help they could get. It was especially good that Remus was on Harry Potter’s side, too.

Rigel, Ross, Scentstalker, Spring, Lodestone, Lynx, New Star, Crystal, and Little Claw were staring back at her, looking just as ragged as she was. At least they were all fine.

“Ready to go to Castle Dracula and seal the deal with joining forces for the fight against the Dark Lord?”

They all nodded.

.-.

Snape, Remus, Scrimgeour, and Neal arrived at Castle Dracula. They were only a little surprised to see that there was no one there to greet them. Some of the Daywalkers were still at the safety hut, being tended to by Asa. Only one other Daywalker had died when they left with Draco, but the others were safe. Scrimgeour led the way in, but the moment they entered the emergency room, the sight that greeted them wasn’t what they’d expected.

Harry was cured all right, even though he had a rather large hole in the middle of his back where his skin had melted. It was back to normal and only now looked like something had taken a bite out of him, some blood slowly running down his back and legs, but most of the muscle kept him intact and from bleeding to death. What surprised them the most was that Harry was kneeling at the edge of the medical cot—which Draco was lying in—head bowed, and shoulders shaking as wretched sobs were heard coming from between Harry’s folded arms.

“Harry,” said Scrimgeour softly, placing a hand onto Harry’s shoulder, not minding the blood and dirt there, or the fact that he could tell just what Harry and Draco were doing a few minutes ago.

Harry sucked in a breath, and without lifting his head, he whispered, “I killed him.”

“What?” Scrimgeour and Snape said, shocked and outraged.

“I killed him!” Harry wailed; tears flowing heavily down his cheeks. He lifted his head then, staring up at his Sire. Harry’s face was wet and rosy; eyes full of life once more, as well as guilt. Human emotions; they were a sight for sore eyes.

Snape checked Draco’s pulse, and then gave Harry the dirtiest look he’d ever given anyone in his life.

He took out his wand and aimed it at Harry’s chest. Harry raised his chin, not denying a thing, green eyes glittering with tears.

“Go ahead,” Harry rasped, throat scratchy and worn from crying. “Kill me. I deserve it for killing my soulmate.”

There was silence for a full minute, Snape’s wand shaking from fury and fighting the urge to kill. Scrimgeour kneeled beside Harry, calmly looking at him until Harry turned his face toward him. Scrimgeour felt his chest hurt from the look in Harry’s eyes, and he understood what Harry was feeling. He’d feel the same if Harry or Neal had been killed.

“There is one way you can save him, but you must hurry.”

Harry’s wet eyes widened. “What? How can I save him?”

Neal knelt down on the other side of Harry, placing a hand onto his other shoulder. “You know, young Fledgling. You know.”

Comprehension suddenly dawned on Harry, and he stared back at Draco in horror.

“No… no, I couldn’t!”

“Do you want to live the rest of your life without him?” Neal asked Harry.

“No,” Harry whispered. “I cannot…”

“Then do it,” said Scrimgeour. He placed a soft kiss on Harry’s cheek.

Harry was indecisive for a moment, looking from Scrimgeour to Neal, and then looking up at Snape, who’d had his wand at his side now, looking dejected. Were those tears in Snape’s eyes?

“But, I’ve never… how am I supposed to…?”

“You know how, Harry,” said Scrimgeour softly. “You’ve always known.”

When Harry continued to stare at his Sire with confusion, Scrimgeour whispered the procedure softly into his ear.

Harry gasped, and then stared back at Draco. Could he really do it?

If he didn’t, he’d lose Draco forever. Draco had promised him that he was his forever, and he couldn’t let Draco go… not yet. But Draco would be so mad at him… but, no, Draco had accepted his role as being his soulmate. He couldn’t lose him.

Determination set, Harry nodded and stood. Neal, Scrimgeour, Snape, and Remus moved back to give Harry some space. Harry took a deep breath, leaned down to Draco’s cold mouth, opened it—swiping his tongue roughly over his teeth—and latched his own mouth desperately to Draco’s. Blood rushed from Harry’s body into Draco’s, filling him.

For a few achingly silent moments, it looked as if nothing was happening, but Harry wasn’t giving up. He kept swiping his tongue along his fangs and pouring his life’s blood into Draco’s husk.

Just when Harry thought he’d failed, there was sudden warmth filling his mouth.

Draco was breathing.

Harry’s chest suddenly pounded with happiness, but when Harry placed a hand over his chest, the pounding was gone.

He released Draco’s mouth when Draco gasped, inhaling sharply.

“Draco?” Harry said, his vision blurring from both tears and blood loss.

Draco’s eyes opened. They were the most beautiful liquid silver Harry’d ever seen in his life.

“Harry,” said Draco gutturally. He kept his mouth open in shock, realizing he wasn’t dead.

Harry smiled, eyes watery. “Those are the most gorgeous set of fangs I’ve ever seen.”

TBC