Chapter 16 - Blood Bag

An/ This chapter has not been Beta'd. Warning: some not-that-graphic-smut

It didn't make sense for Draco to be nervous. Not when he'd done this thousands of times before… hell, maybe even millions.

"I've done this millions of times before," he complained to Blaise in a rushed whisper. "Why am I still so bloody nervous."

Blaise only gave him a raised eyebrow. "I wouldn't say millions…"

"Fine! Thousands then."

"Rather fifty if we're being picky."

"Which we aren't," Draco sneered back at his old friend.

Blaise tried to hide a smile behind straight lips. "No," he conceded. "I guess we aren't."

Draco watched the people assemble, his already foul mood growing fouler as someone stumble over his feet with a grunt "Bloody hell."

Draco's left eye twitched as he had the uncanny desire to take one of the two full blood bags in his pocket and throw them at the klutz-wizard. He'd done it before, as water balloons went, one filled with blood was rather effective. Sure, there had been hell for Blaise and Granger to "clean up" with the press and their reputation but it had been worth it. Well… kind of.

"Can you be a bit more careful?" Draco asked with a dangerous smile as the klutz-wizard was close to tangle with the plastic tube going from the half full blood bag currently resting in Draco's coat pocket to his wrist. The klutz-wizard just grunted at Draco before untangling himself with a jolt from the long tube. Draco's wrist ached from where the needle was currently sticking into his skin, draining him slowly but surely.

"Is that blood?" The klutz-wizard asked in surprise. His round face changing from irritated to puzzled as he watched the redness inside the tube. "Wait…" the wizard looked closer at Draco with furrowed brows. "Draco Malfoy?"

Draco sighed; it was too damn early to be recognized as the blood-sprouting creature lover he was.

"In the flesh," he admitted, more than aware of Blaise tensing beside him, ready to leap to his defence.

The man just shook his head at Blaise's uneasy posture and raised his hands in the universal sign of "I want no trouble." Blaise relaxed slightly.

"I mean no disrespect Mr Malfoy," the man said, his hands steady as he lowered them to rest at his sides. "Just wanted to say thank you I suppose."

Draco raised one of his perfectly trimmed eyebrows. He'd heard many things from strangers, mostly things about him being a shame for his family or a traitor, but sometimes people thanked him. Usually with small gestures ranging from nods to smiles but every now and then someone would actually shake his hand with glistering eyes.

"My daughter," the man said, his eyes flickering towards the floor at the mention of his kid. "She was accidently bitten by a werewolf earlier this year and I…" Here he paused. "It makes a difference you know," the man said after a heartbeat of silence. "That someone like you, with your background takes this stance. It really does."

Draco couldn't help but allow a small smile to break through. "Well then," he said, earlier annoyance gone with the wind. "I'm happy to here it."

The man barked out a short laugh. "There's always Malfoy this Malfoy that according to her." The man gave Draco a grateful smile. "She really looks up to you. Wouldn't know where I would have been if she hadn't been able to return to school, to her friends."

"The MCE has done wonders so far," Draco said, the words flowing out easy despite the stab of ache in his chest. He'd said the rebellion's name so many times that whatever lingering pain it causes him should have disappeared by now.

Should have.

"Yes they have," the man agreed, his round face thoughtful as he gazed around the packed area. It was an especially packed event Draco had to admit. Maybe that was what had caused these nerves to emerge in the first place.

Blaise tensed once more as a group of slightly menacing-looking wizards passed them by. Draco prayed that they wouldn't cause any ruckus during the actual speech.

"But," the man continued, stealing back Draco's attention. "Rules don't take away stigma. That you've done all on your own."

Draco felt his cheeks heat. This father sure knew how to talk. Maybe Draco could convince him to hold the speech instead?

"I'm happy to hear it, even though I can't take all the credit. Don't know if I'd be here if not for the PCR society."

The father-klutz-wizard nodded gravely and gave Draco another smile. "Right," he then said and there was a tint of red to his cheeks. "Anyway, my daughter admires you very much… and… ah… she'd asked me to… ehhh… well…"

"No problem," Draco said as Blaise indicated the spell to transfigure a paper and pen out of a few coins. "What is her name?"

"Laura Hale."

Draco smiled as he carefully wrote down a greeting for Laura. Wishing her many mild moons to come before signing with his full name.

He gave the note to Laura's father.

"Thank you," the man beamed.

Draco simply nodded as the man turned and disappeared into the ever-moving crowd, moving ineloquently through the masses of people. Klutz indeed.

Blaise was smiling knowingly at Draco as he once again relaxed into his seat, eyes moving lazily over the crowd around them. "That was nice," he deadpanned.

Draco simply sighed deeply. "You mean that was a nice change of pace from the usual death threats?"

Blaise smile was an enigma all on its own. "Something like that."

Draco went up on the stage, gazing out over the hundreds of wizards gathered here today with firm eyes. It did not do to show weakness in front of a – partly – hateful crowd.

"Good day," Draco said, his voice echoing over the room with the help of Blaise's spell. "Thank you all for coming here today."

The crowd was silent except from a low murmur. If Draco hadn't done this – fifty times? Yeah Blaise had said fifty times – before, he might have paid attention to his hammering heart and clammy hands. Instead he pulled through, like a stubborn dementor facing down thousands of patronuses.

"I know most of you have more likely than not already heard of me and what I've been through. But, I would still like to take this opportunity to tell you about it in my own words."

Draco felt Blaise shift behind him, ready as always to leap into action despite several aurors standing guard by the stage.

"One year ago I was stabbed by a sword straight clean through my chest. I should have bled out on the ground the night of the Hogwarts Standoff but I didn't. Now, this is the part the newspapers usually gets wrong," Draco said and sent the quiet crowd a small smirk.

"They say I survived thanks to my ancestors being of creature heritance. To be more precise, veela heritance."

Even to this day Draco would never forget Nem's pleased squeal as she'd had her teasing actually confirmed. Draco did have part veela in his blood, a very small part sure, but there none the less.

"That's not the whole story," Draco continued. "The whole story would take hours for me to tell. The whole story would involve a bite from the previous Elder Vampire, it would involve what has of late have become the Lamia Gravitas, which in short is the Elder's natural aura, more commonly known as the Pull, and it would also involve the potion Lamia Castitate.

"Now, before I start explaining exactly how the occupation went down and what happened during the Standoff I'm going to talk about something else. Something that has everything to do with the new laws in place, the equality act and our continuing way of life."

The crowd was starting to murmur again. Draco noticed the aurors gripping their wands. He was not that worried though. Most here wouldn't like what he had to say. Most here only attended due to the agreement. But then again, follow to Draco turning minds had made threats lessen in numbers but increasing in intensity.

"As it has been proven, by what happen to me but also through potion tests, most, if not all, noble families possesses creature blood."

And then there was shouting from all over the room. The crowd before him started protesting, some even snuck hands into their pockets, as if ready to draw their wands. It had faced Draco the first time it had happened. It didn't anymore.

"And yeah, it doesn't do to protest. This has been proven," his voice was hard, unforgivable. This was a fact and it wouldn't do not to deal. He needed to make people see that. "I would have died if not for my veela inheritance," he continues despite the protests still going strong. "So it's there, undeniable it's there. And it's our obligation to deal with it."

One of the auror's sent out a red orb of light, the small ball releasing a vibrating sound. The crowd went quiet, reluctantly.

"Now…" Draco relishes a few heartbeats of silence, dragging forth words he himself had been inspired by so long ago. "Now let's talk about this out-dated notion that creatures are below us. For example you wouldn't judge a person who comes from India, right?"

"Namaste Draco."

"Seriously, fuck you Blaise," Draco sneered before taking another sip of his firewhisky.

Blaise sat down beside him, the almost empty room a blessing for Draco's pounding headache. The crowd had been a fucking nightmare. With some luck he wouldn't need to hold these fucking speeches for much longer. With some luck he would be able to start educating himself as something boring and ordinary. If he didn't have an exciting day left in life it would still be too much.

He took another sip, enjoying the fire crackling in front of him.

"I just can't help it," Blaise snickered as he took a sip from his own whiskey. "India? Every time? You're going to give that country bad associations."

Draco rolled his eyes, too tired to really manage to retort to the taunt in a deserving manner. "Oh excuse me. Is it you that hold speeches in front of hateful crowds? Is it you who get howlers and curses sent in your mail daily? Oh wait, no it isn't, you're just a damn bodyguard."

Blaise blew out his breath, a small giggle mixed somewhere in the tired exhale. "Well, maybe you could switch up the speech a little?"

"Or maybe I could not."

"Hey," Blaise patted Draco's head like one would an aggressive cat. "You did well. The crowd got calmer, people went from there rethinking their stances."

Draco nodded, eyes staring into the golden flames of the fire. He was just so bloody tired.

"We should talk to Hermione," he said, the name slipping out easily. "She will want to hear how today worked out."

Blaise nodded solemnly. "She will," he agreed.

Draco settled with that, still staring into the fire. He felt exhausted and hungry and a bit bloated. Fuck.

"Blaise," he huffed out with a frown. "I need another bag."

Blaise sighed as well. "And I was just getting cosy and all."

"Blaise, now."

His dark-haired friend got up from the couch reluctantly, muttering about "posh bastards" and "think he can order me around." Draco smiled a little, content with Blaise's displeasure.

He closed his eyes, hearing Blaise step away from the room to go fetch three new bags from Draco's suitcase. His headache was receding, good. Draco allowed a blissful silence to enter his mind. He tried not to think about when he was to hold his next speech. He also refused to allow his mind pounder the PCR and absolutely not the MCE. Yes, absolutely not the MCE.

He only thought such painful thoughts in the middle of the night when the temptation and darkness made his will weaken.

It had been a year after all. A year since he'd woken up attached to a tube draining his blood. A bloody year without magic. At least he could still make potions, not that that made him feel better or anything. Absolutely didn't to be honest. It was a joke compared to everything he had been able to do.

In a way it was funny. Him, one of the most talked about people in the wizard society was a squib. Or sort of squib. Take that fucked up world, he couldn't help but think.

Ugh… but squibs really? It seemed he'd hanged out too much with Hermione after all. Was that her next cause? Squibs? And he wasn't that on that level of no-magic yet surely…?

"Here found it!" Blaise interrupted Draco's downward spiral of thoughts. Thoughts he'd tried to avoid, but alas. Not even after an exhausting speech and floo travel could he be given a break from himself.

Blaise threw some plastic bags at Draco. He took them with a sigh.

"I still don't understand what was wrong with the bottomless bags. At least then I didn't have to change them every bloody day."

"You know it's kind of funny that you still say 'bloody'."

"Shut it arsehole."

Blaise simply shook his head solemnly, not bothering to hide that damn smirk he always wore whenever he teased Draco.

"And you know why we don't have the bottomless bags," he continued effortlessly while drinking some more from his glass.

Draco fumed silently, wondering where his relaxation was after such a rough day. He had deserved some relaxation had he not?

"It's not my fault the bag fell out of my pocket."

Blaise simply shook his head. "Draco you spilled out a week of blood. There were children present. Screaming children."

"Ugh… fine," Draco sipped some more on his whiskey. Maybe if he got drunk enough he might pass out next week and then maybe he would get some bloody shuteye- damn shuteye. Fuck.

The fire flared up all of a sudden.

"Hermione?" Blaise asked lazily as they watched the golden flames turn green.

Draco shrugged his shoulders. "Mm… probably. Maybe Pans as well?"

"Nah, think she was going to have some meeting with the ministry."

"Oh well," Draco took another sip while watching the flames partway slowly but surely.

Hermione stepped out of the fire, looking as frizzy haired as ever.

She had a smile on her face. "Boys!" she exclaimed in an annoying tone. Merlin, she'd spent way too much time with Pansy. Hermione Granger one year ago would never have called Draco and Blaise 'boys'. Maybe snakes… voiced in a very distasteful manner of course.

"If it isn't the founding mother herself," Draco drawled as he greeted Hermione by lifting his glass.

"Namaste Draco," was all Hermione said with a fucking awful grin on her face.

Blaise immediately started barking out a disgusting laughter, high fiving the newly arrived witch while once again pledging his loyalty to her and all her causes. Hermione looked a bit too pleased for Draco not to sulk.

"Yeah. Haha. Fuck you both. How about I don't hold speeches and people can go back to bullying creature's all over Britain."

Hermione gave him an apologetic look that didn't seem all that apologetic really.

"Sorry Draco," she offered. Then she beamed at them both. "Actually I have great news."

Draco was immediately suspicious. "What news?"

"We're going on a tour."

And no.

Fuck no.

Draco knew bloody- damn, DAMN, well what she was speaking about and he wasn't bloody- FUCKING doing it. Sure, maybe creature equality had begun to spread over Europe and America after this "revolution" in Britain. And sure, maybe Draco speaking had something to do with it. But he wasn't bloody- FUCKING going to travel around speaking in other countries. Fuck, he would be hated all over. His mail was going to create wizard wars.

"No," Draco pointed a stern finger at Hermione to show that he was fucking serious. "No," he pointed thereafter at Blaise, repeating his answer "No."

"Draco, you don't have to decide now. But please… just think about it," Hermione still sounded elated, like Draco's no hadn't registered.

"I have thought about it," Draco replied stubbornly, taking a big mouthful of his whisky – Merlin knew he needed it. "I am not doing it."

Hermione took a step towards the couch, her eyes softening a bit and her expression of joy toning down. She sat down beside him so that Blaise framed him on one side and she on the other.

"I am not doing it. It's been… it's been a damn nightmare here in Britain. And the world," he couldn't help but swallow. People would want to behead him surely. "It's not going to work. I- I've already spent a year on this."

"And see how much good it has done," Hermione said and Draco knew what she was about to do. Knew she was about to start talking about all the creature-children who could attend school without being bullied. Would talk about the creatures hanging around Diagon Alley because nowadays they weren't denied entrance. She would talk about the increase of magic use, the improvement of St Mungo's, the deepening understanding of Astronomy and Transfiguration and Divination and all that fucking jazz!

And Draco got it! He did! But did he really have to be a bloody martyr for harmony to happen?!

Damn martyr! Not bloody, but a DAMN martyr! He wasn't saying bloody anymore goddamn it!

Fuck.

"Okay," he interrupted her before she could begin to list what they'd manage to achieve in only a year. "You don't have to tell me all the great things the speeches have made possible. I'm fully aware."

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, almost as if she wanted to say it anyway. But thankfully decided against.

"Then you realise what you could do?" she tried to grab hold of his hand, Draco jerked it away with a grunt.

"If you're talking about me realising I could become the most hated wizard on the planet… then yes."

Hermione shook her head. "Blaise help me."

"Oh you're on your own here."

Hermione sighed deeply. "Equality Draco. Equality over the whole wide world. Do you realise the lives we could save? The souls? The minds?"

Draco was too tired to have this conversation. "I know it all," he answered because he did. Better than anyone it felt like at times. He did get a lot of hate in the mail, but he also got a lot of love, got lots of life stories spilled out in a shaky handwriting, he got a lot of gratitude. And Draco wouldn't hesitate to go out in the world if he didn't know how bad things sometimes got. His ever-occurring nightmares, the constant mentioning of MCE, the longing that still refused to let go despite the year that had passed.

Sometimes Draco drank too much firewhiskey. Sometimes he didn't sleep for days. Sometimes he would just start crying and not stop for hours.

Draco knew of his limitations. Had learned to live with them this past year. He was saying no to the world tour for a goddamn reason.

"Please," Hermione said again. Her voice serious instead of elated, her usual smooth tenor trembling slightly. She really wanted him to say yes.

Draco didn't know what to say. "Hermione," he dragged a slightly shaky hand through his hair. "I'm tired."

"I know," her demeanour was oddly muted. "We'll take it easy and do less speeches. We'll weave a better Fidelius charm."

Draco nodded distractedly.

"So you think about it?" Hermione could as usual not keep her pleading under wraps. Draco was sure that if he only turned his head to the right he would see large brown eyes, begging him to agree.

He didn't turn right. But he did agree with a tired. "I guess."

There was a warm hand on his shoulder. "Thank you Draco," Hermione sounded sad. "I know this is… hard, with you being a front figure and all. But we couldn't have done it without you."

Draco didn't really want gratitude. This whole PCR or Promotion of Creature Rights had been Hermione's idea from the beginning. Draco had then just recovered and had pleaded to join her by sharing his story and perspective with wizard Britain. Well… he had got his whish. But to what price?

"You've already talked to the MCE I suppose?"

Hermione blushed prettily beside him. "Well, I told Ron about my idea. He was going to tell Sirius."

"Ah," Blaise said to the left of Draco. "The boyfriend."

Hermione only blushed harder, a pout making an appearance in her face.

Draco smirked. "The redheaded weasel, really Hermione, haven't you dumped his sorry arse yet? You can do better."

Hermione rolled her eyes but there was a fond smile tugging at her lips anyway. Draco was watching it, could see the warmth in her eyes as she ruffled his hair.

"Careful with that," he scolded her, a smile breaking out on his face as well.

She huffed. "Boys," she complained in a distinct Pansy manner.

Draco always knew that some day Potter would return. He knew in his very constantly exchanging blood that Potter hadn't died that day even if he'd somehow transferred his powers to Sirius. Nem had known Potter had been alive, knew it still probably. Not that he'd talked to her since the Manor.

But he knew that Potter someday would seek him out.

Or so he thought he knew, at night, in his bed, with only a starry sky outside his window. Then, with only the sound of silence and sight of darkness, did he allow his heart to long.

The whole thing was quite a mess because Draco had recovered… outwardly at least. He had grown confident and stronger since the whole occupation mess, since the whole being helplessly in love mess.

He had even been on a date with a perfectly nice girl; only problem had been that the date ended swiftly after he'd had a panic attack in the restaurant's bathroom. Breath wheezing as he'd tried to supress the gut wrecking feeling of wrong.

He hadn't attempted anything close to romance after that. Maybe he never would. It was impractical and a very Hufflepuff thing to do, stay true to his first love. But maybe Draco did have certain Hufflepuff tendencies? Or maybe he just needed closure?

So that was why, in the middle of the night, he sometimes imagined Potter appearing in his room. The vampire's tall frame intimidating as well as protecting, his hair falling like shadow and his eyes gleaming as green as always. He imagined that Potter would have an absolutely perfect excuse to why he'd been absent and then they would laugh at one of Potter's stupid puns and Draco would get to hold that stupidly handsome face in his hands. Potter would then tell Draco everything he wanted to know about Potter's past, all about the Ginny-girl, Black, Lupin and the weasel. He would then say Draco Malfoy. And Draco would ask what? And then Potter would say. That's whom I love. Draco Malfoy.

And all that was bullshit.

It was a dream fit for a six-year-old girl who'd watch too many movies about that Disney person Hermione sometimes muttered about. And Draco realised, when the break of dawn happened and he'd lain sleepless yet another night, that if Potter ever cared to seek him out, it would be for closure.

The knowledge hurt. But he'd tried to learn to accept it. Tried to prepare his already strained soul to bear the words: it's not you but me, sorry and goodbye. Draco thinks he would be able to hold it all together the ten minutes it would take for Potter to break it off officially.

And then he would cry. As he'd already done so many nights already.

And then he would pick himself up, move on, maybe save creatures all over the world, and then, in the end, he would die. His life didn't sound very glamorous whenever Draco thought about it like that, watching the sun rise over whatever town he was currently hiding in. But at those moments, after nights of nightmares or heart-breaking thoughts, it was the truth.

"Draco?" Lupin looked teary eyed. "It's been so long," he then said.

Draco agreed. It certainly had. One year and a month to be completely honest. His former teacher took a hesitant step forward, arms twitching as if he wanted to wrap them around him.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Come here then?"

Lupin gave him a smile, so full of happiness that Draco couldn't help but join. Not a second later did he have two strong but wiry arms wrapped around his slim frame. The familiar smell of old books and forest felt a bit like coming home, or at least as seeing an old friend. Which was technically what this was.

"We should have met earlier," Lupin muttered into his hair, his embrace holding firm. Like he didn't want to let go. "I should have visited you after everything… it was just… Sirius…"

"I understand," Draco interrupted Lupin's breathy voice. "Black almost died, MCE's leader gone with the wind. Someone needed to take the rains."

Lupin finally let up on his crushing embrace and took a good look at Draco, his eyes gleaming suspiciously. "Yes," he nodded. "Look at you. Are you sure you're only seventeen?"

"No," Draco felt his smile turn to a smirk. "I am actually eighteen."

Lupin's smile faltered slightly. "Merlin, time really moves fast don't it?"

Draco couldn't do else than agree. "It does."

Lupin let him go. The surroundings coming back to Draco as he turned towards the next person in line. Ah. Sirius Black.

"It's an honour to meet you Elder," Draco used the title as he addressed Black, bowing respectfully and keeping his eyes on the floor, as was the custom. If nothing else had this last year taught him a great deal about different creature norms.

"No," Black said, his voice raspy and almost vibrating. Vibrating in the same way Potter's had been. Apparently that was an Elder vampire trait, not that many people could claim to have met two. "The pleasure is entirely mine Draco Malfoy, please raise your gaze."

Draco did. The man before him wasn't thin as he'd been at the Hogwarts Standoff. He was pale like just vampire's could be and his hair was dark. Maybe not like floating shadows but dark none the less. His eyes were grey and his expression sincere. There was power no doubt, authority and fangs. But Draco didn't feel like prey, he didn't feel insignificant or like he was standing in front of a god.

He felt slightly perplexed, furrowing his eyebrows in thought.

"I personally, but also on the behalf of MCE would like to thank you, Ms Granger and all that are part of the Promotion of Creature Right society. For doing what we couldn't do," Black's voice was sincere.

Hermione shifted slightly beside Draco, her intake of breath betraying her happiness of being semi-officially acknowledged. After all, the minister was standing mere feet away, watching the Elder Vampire praise them, declare them his allies. That wasn't a small thing.

"You have mine and the MCE's eternal gratitude for the work you have and are doing. I hope we will continue to work together to bring equality all over the world. And if you ever find yourself in trouble, be it the PCR or personally, you always have an ally in me."

The minister and Hermione both took a sharp breath. Surprise evident in the small sound.

Draco was still trying to figure out what felt off about this new Elder.

"Thank you," Hermione sounded like an eager puppy.

Black's professional mask melted away and he gave Hermione a friendly smile. "You're welcome!"

Draco felt something. Like a switched had been flicked in his brain.

"Lupin," he asked with ease, Hermione already going off on a tangent talking to Black and the minister.

"Oh, call me Remus," Lupin- or… Remus, said with a fond smile.

"Right, Remus. Could I have a word?"

Remus' smile dropped slightly, a frown appearing on his previously smooth forehead. They stepped to the side, standing by the warm fire and otherwise slightly shielded from the trio to their left.

Draco knew that Black could probably hear them without problems. But the idea inside of him wouldn't let go. He needed his suspicions confirmed.

"Mr Black isn't the new Elder is he?" Draco didn't care for small talk. Remus was his friend and there was something like hysteria bubbling inside of him. "Potter is still the Elder Vampire isn't it so?"

Remus looked at Draco, shocked no doubt. He didn't seem to know what to say. "How… How…"

"I've spent too much time with Harry not to feel the difference between a god and an ordinary vampire."

"Sirius isn't ordinary."

Draco nodded in agreement. He knew that Black had the ability to be outdoor in the sun, just like Potter had. "Yeah… maybe he's more powerful than an ordinary vampire, but he's not the Elder."

Remus let out a long breath. He seemed concern. "You're right of course," he amended. "And yes Harry is out there, still being the Elder Vampire."

"Where is he," Draco's heart was thumping loudly in his chest. A drumbeat that seemed to grow harsher by the minutes, he was almost sure that he would see his whole torso vibrate if he only bothered to look down. Which he didn't, he was busy staring into amber coloured eyes filled of hesitation and pain.

"We don't know," Remus settled on, the chatter from the trio behind being the only thing calming Draco's fraying nerves. Hermione talking meant that they still had some time before they undeniably were going to be interrupted. "He… he hasn't really been in contact. Gone dark on the radar."

Draco didn't know what to feel about that. Apparently he wasn't the only one the Elder Vampire had been avoiding.

Draco shook his head in frustration. "Damn," he felt like crying. Stupid feelings, getting in the way all the fucking time.

Remus gave Draco a look of sympathy. "I've worried as well," he confided.

Draco took a deep breath, trying to ignore how wet said breath sounded. "I'm not worried," he bit out, forcing his voice to turn hard. "He would have stayed in contact if he wanted any further associations with me."

Draco refused to look at Remus; instead he stared into the fire beside him. The crackling flames to prefer instead of amber eyes filled of pity.

"He… he wouldn't stay away if he didn't have a reason," Remus voice was muted, careful.

Draco hated it. He wasn't fragile. He wasn't.

"Before the Standoff…" Draco wished he had some firewhisky to make this sharp reality duller. "I told him that he never again would decide for us."

There's a beat of silence.

"He did. So it's obvious where his priorities lies."

"You can't know that Draco," Remus protested softly. "You don't know his reasons."

"And whose fault is that?"

Remus remained quiet. Hermione was still chattering in the background, but it seemed like they were rounding up, words drifting by like "then it's decided" and "Pleasure meeting you." Draco would soon need to head back to whatever house he was to be located in now. Probably another cottage in another muggle town, somewhere away from wizards.

Not that he really could identify himself as a wizard anymore though. Maybe they should just leave him stranded somewhere north of London? But right… They still needed his voice.

"He will come for you," Remus said despite Black and Hermione making their way over. Draco didn't even have time to process as Remus engulfed him in another hug. "Harry will come for you."

And Remus was right. Potter did come for him.

Two weeks later and in the middle of the night like another thief, did Potter come for him.

And Draco managed to fuck it up as usually.

There are thousands of thoughts Draco has had regarding their reunion, some of them overly romantic and hopeful, but most of them vengeful. Draco have thought about what to say, how to behave, how to make absolutely sure that Potter knows he's leaving behind someone strong, someone that won't miss him.

Now, Draco will miss him. As much as one might miss ones legs so will probably Draco miss the feeling of Potter looming beside him. But there's no way that Potter will know that, ever. Instead Draco will act cold, indifferent, spit whatever closure Potter has planned in the face. Draco wants Potter to think about him now and forever, and if he can't be thought of with love than maybe with sorrow and hate. He's prepared to go so far just to be remembered. Because yeah… Draco is sometimes a selfish bastard, despite him behaving everything but nowadays.

So Draco wants to be indifferent, he wants to ignore, he wants to scream, he wants to curse and he wants to behave generally unpleasant when Harry shows up. There will be no forgiveness to be had, at least not any he will willing to give the vampire.

Not if he is to be left once again. Which he is. Every alternative path leading to something not-abandonment-ish are mere dreams. Ones he, for his own sanity, refuses to indulge in.

But that isn't what happens.

Draco woke up in the middle of the night from another nightmare. This one had featured Blaise bleeding out at one of his speeches; red oozing out from his throat as Draco uselessly tried to stop the flow. He was panicking because he couldn't lose Blaise. He just couldn't.

He woke up to himself screaming in an empty bedroom. His current empty bedroom to be precise. The moon was high in the sky outside the window but otherwise there was only darkness.

Draco sat up – his whole body shaking and sweating – and looked around the sparsely furnished room while he slowly but surely tried to return to himself. Draco knew how to deal with nightmares, he did. But this one had been worse than most because this one was plausible in ways the others weren't. For starters, Blaise dying during one of his speeches had almost happened once. It had been in the beginning of this whole charade and Draco had almost stopped altogether right then and there. Almost.

Higher security had been installed after that and they'd become more cautious. But still, it could happen again.

Only… Draco paused in thoughts as he felt a shivering sensation of something… The dark room around him seemed darker somewhat.

Draco felt himself tense as he stared around the room, nightmare fresh in his mind.

Blaise dying. Him dying. It could happen.

And not only during the speeches.

Someone was in the room.

"Hello," he asked quietly into the supposedly empty room, wondering if he could get hold of his Throw n Trap beside the bed. Maybe his movement would be obvious to whatever presence in the room, but at least it would be better than sitting on his bed defenceless.

He made a move. The shadows seemed to grow thicker. Draco froze.

"Show yourself," he demanded, whishing for maybe the gazillionth time that he had a working wand to his disposal. Blaise was sleeping downstairs, if only he dared to scream… but no, that needed to be his last option, it was too risky.

Stay cool and collected Draco. Stay cool and fucking collected.

"You who are here, step forth," he demanded once more, body tense. There was a chill creeping up his back, but somehow the gut wrecking fear felt almost… familiar.

Familiar?

It couldn't possible be…

"Draco."

Him.

Now, Draco knew how to act, he had fucking practised the entire charade.

So why didn't he stick to the fucking script?

"Harry," he said instead of ignoring the pale shape emerging from the shadows.

He's supposed to tell the entity to get the fuck out of his house. He doesn't. Obviously. He doesn't even stick to impersonally calling the vampire Potter. Merlin help him, he has already lost his goddamn mind.

"Harry," he said again, because for some reason, Draco's practice of behaving distant had been for naught.

Harry stepped forward. And it was such a goddamn nice sight to see. The familiar attributes and shapes of Harry were making his head spin and let out a whimper. Harry was still slightly taller than him, he was still broad and muscular, and he was still the most breath-taking sight Draco had ever seen despite the betrayal and their history.

Harry looked at him and Draco felt something like a physical longing making his limbs move despite what they'd practised. He was getting out of his bed, walking up towards that firm chest hiding underneath a dark sweater. He was still walking towards that face with the green eyes, bronze-white skin, straight nose and deadly fangs.

He'd missed Harry. Merlin, he'd missed him.

Harry simply opened his arms and Draco, like a fool in love, fell into the cool embrace, body shaking and heart leaping of joy. During this whole year after Harry had left, he'd never felt so happy, so alive, and so whole, as he did now.

"Draco," Harry whispered with his dark voice, a familiar rumble making his smaller frame vibrate. He was not crying, there was too much adrenaline rushing through his veins for that.

"Harry," was the only goddamn thing he managed to respond with, his sharp Malfoy tongue seemingly buried somewhere in the unknown. He could really have had some use for a sharp word or two right now, some solid arguments. But alas. He was instead melting in Harry's arms.

And then there was sudden desperation.

"Don't leave," he begged and clung to Harry like a stubborn cat, his hands clawing into firm muscles and his chest moulding itself after Harry's. "Don't leave me behind again. You said you wouldn't. You promised."

"I won't," Harry whispered, lips moving against Draco's scalp. "Never again."

Draco's heart didn't hear promises, just false reassurance.

Draco's hands started to grab Harry harder. His body moving against the vampire's in sinuous waves as he bent his head backwards, offering his throat in desperation. Because this was nothing else but desperation.

"Need you," he managed to get out despite something in his gut screaming wrong, wrong, WRONG! He didn't care. He should, he desperately should, but didn't. All he thought about was that he'd been deprived of Harry for one year and Merlin it had been too long. He just needed to feel something else than air and memories.

Because Harry was here.

And instead of thinking about goodbyes Draco started to think about beginnings. Foolish beginnings. This would surely turn ugly in a minute, when Harry realised what his fumbling hands and moving body wanted. Or maybe it would turn ugly in the morning as it had before? But would Draco manage to move past it this time? He already was so bloody stressed and tired. All. The. Time.

"Draco," Harry was sounding hesitant. "Draco." Large, sure hands settled on his hips. He couldn't help that his body positively arched at the familiar weight. "We shouldn't rush. You're tired, confused."

Draco started mouthing at Harry's jaw. It was after all a very nice jaw. All square like and sharp. "No," he panted between sloppy kisses. Harry's skin tasted positively divine, like moonlight – if one could taste that way. "I need you now." His mouth then reattached itself to pale skin, hungry for another taste.

Draco did need Harry. He did. If there was one thing overshadowing all other thoughts was that he needed Harry. Needed to feel that he was here, that this wasn't another horrible dream he would wake from with an aching heart.

Harry's voice was trembling, the sub-vocal rumbling almost gone. "I don't want to hurt you."

Draco dragged his mouth away from Harry's quite addictive skin once more. And instead of saying that Harry had been the cause for indescribable pain so many times that Draco had lost count, he just breathed out a: "Then kiss me."

The familiar softness took Draco's breath away. He immediately tried to deepen the kiss, his warm tongue silently asking entrance to the cave of fangs and coolness. But Harry's mouth remained stubbornly closed.

Draco groaned in frustration.

"I said kiss me!"

"I am!"

"You. Are. Not!"

Harry dragged himself away from Draco. Draco simply tired to press himself even closer, hands possessively grabbing for anything.

"No Draco." It looked like it physically pained him to say the words. "You'll hate me in the morning. Just let me stay and we'll talk about it."

Let me stay.

Yeah, like Harry would stay. He'd never had before.

"Harry," Draco's voice did that breathy but firm thing again. His thoughts were flying around, all of them out of grasp, like a thousands of golden snitches. All he knew was that Harry was here. And he would probably not be for much longer. "I need you."

Harry looked at him. Something sad in his green eyes. "I need you too," he said. "But it's better to talk firs-"

"I don't want to talk."

Because that would be the part when Harry said goodbye and sorry wouldn't it?

Harry stared at him for a long moment. Draco tried to stay upright, happy to have two strong hands placed on his hips. They gave him strength, stability. They made sense. And Merlin knew nothing else did at the moment.

Something seemed to leave Harry. Like a breath or maybe something heavier. Or maybe something lighter.

The vampire nodded, his clothes wrinkled after Draco's attack and his eyes hungry but sad.

"Okay. Whatever you want Draco. Whatever you want."

It was like a switch had lit in both Draco's mind, but also in Harry's. Suddenly Draco was once against crushed against a firm chest, his hands scrambling over stupid cloth as he tried to find a strip of skin, a strip of coolness. His mouth found Harry's and this time it was no hesitation.

The moan he let out was unashamed and loud. Maybe Blaise would here it, but his friend was a distant thought.

Harry's mouth opened beneath his asking lips and Draco delved in with uninhibited pleasure. Meeting the tongue greeting him with eager whimpers and shaking limbs. This… this was like coming home. Or maybe arriving to heaven once again.

There were fangs Draco couldn't help but trace while his hands clutching dark locks. Harry picked him up from the floor, guiding Draco's legs to wrap around his hips while supporting him with two broad hands on his arse. It made something burn inside of Draco.

He began to move against Harry, continuing grabbing his hair with shaking hands as he took full advantage of his new height. Slanting his mouth harder against Harry's while allowing his right hand to cup the vampire's face, tracing familiar features with an aching heart.

This was Harry.

Harry.

Harry.

Harry.

How could he have lived without this for a year? It didn't make any sense. He would take what he could get if nothing else. Take these memories to relive them during grey days of loneliness and pain.

Harry started kneading his arse, broad hands moving the two globs together and apart. It was maddening.

"The bed," Draco got out between long, sinful kisses. "Take me to bed."

Not a second after Draco had whimpered the words was he falling on a soft mattress. His body weightless for an exhilarating moment before something cool and solid pressed him down. A mouth attaching itself to his neck as Harry began leaving wet kisses in his wake. Draco burned underneath the cool entity.

"Clothes," he instructed between moans and whines. "Take them off."

Harry barely bothered to rise to his knees as he dragged off his sweatshirt, his skin positively luminous in the moonlight. So very fitting, Draco couldn't help but think. Moonlight skin, lit up by the moon herself.

Then Harry was leaning down, tangling with Draco's nightshirt. Draco felt anticipation build in his lower abdominal. He would have all that pressed against him, pressed inside him. He wanted Harry to hurry up, get him out of these annoying clothes.

If he could only-

Ouch!

Harry stopped and right, Draco might have said that out loud.

"What?" Harry sounded apologetic and a bit frightened in his question.

Draco bent to the right and swiftly pulled out the needle from his arm. "Don't mind it, I'll survive without being drained for a while."

Harry resumed to slowly pull off Draco's nightshirt, face hidden by the white material. It went off.

But then he stopped.

Draco looked up at the beautiful man before him, perfection in every curve and nook. Harry's expression on the other hand… was devastated.

He traced a cold, but smooth, finger along the edge of Draco's scar from the sword, the pink line right above his sternum. Harry's expression turned haunted.

"Draco I-"

"No," Draco said because no. They would not talk. He didn't have the mind capacity to talk right now. He just wanted this. Craved this. "Come here." It was nothing short of an order.

Harry obeyed, swooping down to leave a series of light kisses on his scar. Draco started pulling Harry's hair, guiding him away from the gentle flutter. He didn't want that. He wanted heat and friction.

"Take your trousers and pants off."

Harry looked at Draco with big eyes, but Draco avoided that imploring gaze. Instead he started mouthing at Harry's jaw again, body pressing upwards and back curving. He had nothing left on but his pants. But they would soon be gone.

Harry managed to get all remaining clothes away, Draco's too. And then it was simply skin. Skin and coolness and Harry, Harry, Harry.

Draco let out more whimpers as his hips desperately moved against the vampires, cocks brushing and hands grasping desperately.

"Harry, Harry, Harry," Draco whined, eyes closing because he wanted to just feel. Not that he couldn't just feel. Not when his heart was pounding like crazy of both joy and crushing sadness and his voice kept repeating the name Harry.

The vampire's breath was cool by his ear. The bed creaked with every thrust they did against each other.

"Draco," Harry answered him, voice filled of things Draco couldn't deal with right now. Perhaps never. "Draco," Harry begged again but Draco didn't want to. He didn't want to make this more than it was. More than a goodbye.

He clawed at Harry's back, trying to force the vampire's torso flush against his chest. He didn't succeed.

"Look at me," Harry asked as his hips kept twitching against Draco's. Creating the most delirious of frictions. "Please… Look at me."

"No," Draco tried to speed up the thrusts. Tried to loose himself in the pleasure blooming all over him, loose himself in Harry's perfect, unattainable body.

"Draco."

"I said no!"

And of course… then Draco looked at him.

Green eyes were staring into his, Harry's gaze heavy of sorrow and love.

Yes, love. There was no denying it. And how was Draco supposed to handle this?

"That's it Draco you're doing so well," Harry whispered as he shoved against Draco harder, faster, his expression reverent. "You're the most beautiful sight I have ever seen."

And Draco… he's not… he's not… He thought they were supposed to have sex. Not… not this.

"I'm going to take care of you," Harry continued, hands cupping Draco's face. "For as long as you let me." Then he kissed Draco.

And Draco… Draco… Draco was breaking.

And he… he… was coming.

His sight turned to white, his mind even whiter and he was suddenly stuck in this space where there was nothing but him and a moon. A moon who had glowing skin, a loving gaze and dark hair. A moon who smiled at him and whispered sweet poems into his skin. A moon that loved him.

That Draco loved as well and has for a long time.

The journey back to his small bed in a strange house was fast and hard. Harry was there of course and caught him with cool hands and soft lips.

"Draco, Draco, Draco," he whispered like a pray. His hands moving over his exhausted body like his scarred torso was worth worshiping. Draco was exhausted, tired.

Harry hadn't come, Draco could tell.

But Harry didn't seem to mind as he carefully dragged Draco into an embrace, holding the blonde slytherin in his arms while continuously whispering gibberish. Lovely gibberish mind you, but gibberish none the less.

"I'll stay," Harry whispered while stroking Draco's side like one might a cat. "You just sleep and I'll stay here. You don't need to worry anymore. I'll guard you for the rest of my life."

Draco's thoughts were sluggish at best, but he thought these words were settling something inside of him, like maybe calming an ever-raging storm. He curled into Harry, back pressing against the vampire's chest and his limbs spread out in front of him. Harry dragged up the cover of the bed, engulfing Draco in a cocoon of hot and cool. It was quite the pleasant thunderstorm inside of there.

He drifted off to Harry breathing behind him. The vampire's presence soothing in the most fundamental of ways.

"Sleep," Harry whispered. "Tomorrow, you can curse me all you want."

Draco awoke to the sun. His head was clearer than it had been for a long time and his limbs were pleasantly cool. He thanked Merlin for the lack of nightmares and insomnia but then…. he remembered.

There was someone in his bed. There was a cool hand resting on Draco's waist, stroking carefully to and fro.

Harry.

The vampire was awake. Draco wasn't even sure if the entity needed to sleep at all. Because when Draco tensed, just seconds after realising just who laid in his bed, Harry lifted his hand, taking away the physical contact, like he knew Draco wouldn't want to touch him.

I don't think I want you to touch me. The memory echoed inside of Draco. It had been over a year ago. When he'd been able to actually turn away from the vampire.

He remembered last night in flashes. Harry whispering soothing, loving words to him. Draco behaving wanton, easy, in a way that was making his inner cry out in shame. His hands started to shake badly as he tried and failed to deny what his reaction had been when seeing Harry for the first time in over a year.

Couldn't he at least have behaved with dignity?

Now in the morning sun he doubted he even had any left.

"Draco?" Harry's voice was careful, the sound rather a whisper in the wind than an actual word.

Draco didn't know how to face Harry. He didn't.

"Please Draco, look at me?"

Draco still refused, remaining with his back turned against the entity. But instead of insisting, Harry was respecting his silence by joining it. Allowing the room to turn quiet with the exception of slow breaths and the furious thumping of Draco's heart. Because Draco's heart was beating. Like mad.

There wasn't an easy silence they fell into. They were both tense and Draco's breath was coming out quicker and quicker as he remembered how Harry had asked him to stop, to wait yesterday and how Draco had pressed on. Forced-

Not forced…. Not, forced. Because how could you force someone that was so powerful he could end the world in a heartbeat?

Maybe you could pressure him? And if that wasn't a new low Draco didn't know what was.

"Last night wasn't suppose to happen," Draco said after a while. Because his heart was about to beat out of his chest and his head was about to explode. Draco needed to talk; otherwise he might just break down.

Harry was quiet behind him. The only sound the vampire let out being a small wounded noise that could be anything from "go on" to "I'm sorry."

Draco breathed in air. Cool air. His head was still a mess, but maybe he could begin to sort it out? "You were supposed to come here," he continued, trying to follow the setup he'd practised on. Trying to follow his planned script until he found what exactly had made it all turn to shite.

Harry lied still behind him, almost as if he wasn't there. But he was.

"You were supposed to climb through my window to get closure. To say goodbye."

"Draco," Harry's voice didn't sound very confident. Actually, it sounded small.

"You were." Draco ignored Harry's pleading? Inquiring? "And I was supposed to ignore you. I was supposed to tell you to go to away for being such a goddamn filthy traitor and liar."

There was a cool hand softly touching his elbow. Draco jerked away from the touch, violently. "I wasn't supposed to swoon," he spit the words out, feeling truly disgusted with himself. He wanted to take a shower desperately, but he wasn't sure if water could wash away whatever loathing that was growing in his chest.

"You didn't," Harry tried to protest, hands once more trying to pet him, sooth him.

Draco hated it. Hated how his body even now tried to lean into those broad palms. "Don't touch me!"

The hands were immediately retreating. Leaving him the fuck alone.

Draco felt tired.

"Why did you do that," Draco asked with a broken voice? He had practised to hold in his tears as well, tried to get used to the thought of facing Harry once more. Whatever thought simulation he'd forced himself to endure beforehand didn't seem to work. It hadn't worked yesterday and it wouldn't today.

There were tears gathering in his eyes, threatening to spill over.

"I wanted to talk Draco," Harry answered, hesitantly.

Draco let out something between a laugh and a sob, it sounded ugly. "Yeah, but then I begged for it didn't I?"

"No," Harry sounded small, sad. "You didn't at all."

"Please," Draco's voice sounded harsh in the soft glow of the morning. "We both know that's a lie."

"It isn't. But I- I just came barging in, surprising you. And it's been a long time since last. And- and, we love each other. Of course your reaction would be-"

"No, no, no, no. Can you just shut up!?" Draco didn't care that he behaved childish as he pressed his hands to his ears, trying to shut out the raspy sound of Harry's voice. The vampire didn't get to say that. He just didn't.

Draco closed his eyes, heart still beating fast. He lowered his hands slowly. There was a needle in his arm again, he noticed with a flickering of something. Harry must have put it back after he'd fallen asleep.

"Maybe you shouldn't have come," Draco was calm again. Or at least calmer.

"Of course I would come again."

"To say a proper goodbye?"

"No," Harry sounded so fucking small, and that was not okay. It messed with Draco's determination. It made him want to hug the vampire close to him and whisper 'whatever you want, I'll give it'.

"No?" Draco couldn't have stopped himself from asking the question just as little that he could have stopped his heart from beating or his blood from reproducing.

"I came here to be with you. And I will if you let me."

Draco opened his eyes, the words ringing in his head like a sinister echo. Those words were like poisonous amortentia, smelling like everything he'd ever wished for but tasting like death.

"Your promises are empty Harry," was all Draco managed as he stared at the wall before him the room, the white wall glowing slightly golden as the sunbeams travelled through the window.

Harry paused before he answered, his voice full of intention, of determination. "Draco… I'm so fucking sorry okay? For everything."

These words were so predictable and plain. So why did they make Draco's heart feel like it was soaring? Stupid heart, stupid mind, stupid body who didn't know how not to long after a cool touch.

"I'd died for you," Draco simply said. "And you promised… and I did a promise to myself as well…" He felt helpless as he lay in the sheets, Harry right behind him. "We made a deal that if we were to work you wouldn't decide for both of us. You didn't get to make decisions based on your opinion alone."

"Please Draco. I want to explain to you, I really do. But can't you at least look at me? Can't you give me that?"

Draco shuddered, because he wanted to. Merlin, he wanted to.

"I can't. I need some distance. It's… it's… My self-respect is really low right now. I just don't know if I'll be able to live with myself if I look at you and forgives you."

"I don't expect you to forgive me-"

"Well I fucking will anyway okay?!" Draco's word rang out into the room. He felt jittery, broken. It wasn't a comfortable feeling.

"Okay," Harry sounded sad. Like watching-your-loved-ones-be-buried sad.

Draco took a deep breath. "It's just," he tried to amend, tried to say in a calm fucking manner. "It's just that maybe I do love you. And maybe that is making me trust you despite that you've done very few things to deserve it. And that's not okay. I'm sorry Harry but it's not."

Harry might have nodded. Draco didn't know because he wasn't looking. He just… wasn't.

"I don't know where you've been," he continued. "I know that the world thinks you are dead. I know that I waited for you during the two months I was hospitalized to come to me. I know that you didn't."

"I couldn't," Harry chimed in, his voice thick. Like he was crying. Merlin, don't let him be crying. "I had to make sure to hunt down Tom Riddle."

Draco took a quick breath. "They said he'd died…"

"He hadn't."

"Is he…?" He didn't even know how to finish the question.

"No. But he's imprisoned."

Draco let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "Azkaban?"

"No… Not in Britain."

"Is he…? Never mind, as long as he's gone-"

"He is."

There was a hand on Draco's back, stroking softly. Draco allowed it. Actually, he melted backwards into the coolness, shuddering. And when another arm came to press over his side and curl around his stomach, he allowed that to.

"Draco," Harry's breath danced over his neck. "Even if you never forgive me, even if you only want me around as another bodyguard or a friend, let me stay. I won't leave you ever again without telling you."

"You… you should have told me about Riddle," Draco was close to breaking, turning around to grab hold of Harry and kiss him, beg him to stay forever. It was so tempting, dangerously so. Like past mistakes were made to be repeated.

"I wasn't sure," Harry whispered. "If I would survive. I didn't want you to… to give you false hope."

"But that's not your decision to make," Draco reminded him even as he turned around.

And there he was, Harry, eyes gleaming suspiciously and expression somewhere between broken and blissful. He was perfect. Always would be.

"I know," he said, pressing a tender kiss to Draco's forehead. "And I won't do it again."

"You must tell me everything," Draco insisted as he himself pressed a small kiss to the corner of Harry's lovely mouth. "About you. How you grew up, how you became the Elder Vampire. You must tell me about Remus, Black, Ginny and about how you came up with such a reckless idea as to change the world."

Harry smiled softly at him, a fang sticking out. "If you tell me about you."

Draco felt an answering smile spread over his face. It felt wonderful, like the first sign of spring after a long, long winter. "I can do that."

Harry's eyes were tender as his hand closed over Draco's wrist, the one with the needle in. "I heard you turned into a blood bag," he said gently.

"I did," Draco shot right back, a tingle going down his spine. "Are you in need of a donation?"

Harry pressed a kiss to his lips. "Maybe I am…. maybe I am."

AN/

Hello all you who's still with me! This was the last chapter of Blood Bag, I hope you all enjoyed it!

What to say really? I can begin with saying that I never (ever) planned for this story to become over 100 000 words (like wtf is wrong with me). This is the first time I've written such a long story, something I'm sure is noticeable with contradictions and uneven pacing.

This story also didn't turn out as I'd envisioned it from the beginning. This was actually suppose to be a 20 000 word story where nobody were suppose to be dying. This story got away from me and turned much more darker than I'd first envisioned.

Several reviews I've gotten have mentioned that this story is a long on-and-off war between Draco and Harry's relationship and yes… I guess it turned out that way x)

But however flaws, I as an author still love it. Mainly because I can clearly see a difference from when I started this story two years ago untill now. I feel like I've evolved working on such a large project both with my story constructing and writing.

Last of all (is this a thank speech? Have I won an award x) jeez!) I would like to thank you! It's frightfully clear to me that I wouldn't under any circumstances have managed to finish this monster of a story if it wasn't for all of you. Reviews, likes, view count, whatever you have done thank you. No matter if you have cheered me on, given me constructive criticism or simply taken part of this story… thank you!

I hope that with this last chapter, many of you can finally find peace and that you may find it in yourselves to forgive me for the all but reliable updating schedule. :)

Truly, Thank you!

But since it has so ought to be
By a time to rise and a time to fall
Come fill to me the parting glass
Good night and joy be with you all