A/N: Hey, everyone! This is my first attempt at a Drarry Fic, so please be gentle! Also, I have yet to find a beta reader, so this chapter is beta'd by me. Thus all mistakes are my own. Anybody who would like a stab at helping me beta later chapters would be most welcome! :)

Summary: The aurors have been working for weeks planning a raid on a rogue vampire hive. However, the hive seems to have moved on before our heroes could arrive. What happens when the only surviving victim is the long thought to be dead Draco Malfoy?

Warnings: The biggest warning is that, even though I know where I'm planning for this to go, other things may happen. I will update warnings as necessary. For right now, warnings include M/M Slash (Harry/Draco), torture, blood and gore, sexual content (both consensual and non-con), and character death (for now, pre-story, but I make no promises).

A Second Life

Chapter 1 - Fate, The Cruel Lover

"Yes, Mione," the redhead answered in a bored tone and with an almost imperceptible roll of his blue eyes. Unfortunately for him, even the crackling and shifting embers of the floo did nothing to hide his irritability from his wife.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley," the frizzy-haired woman practically spat back through the floo, "do NOT patronize me! Now, I know you and Harry have been planning this ambush for weeks, but—"

"Hermione, give it a rest already!" Harry's flustered voice called from behind Ron's shoulder. "He's with me and we've got a whole team of auror backup. Everything will be fine!" Harry peeked around his best mate to catch the worried and aggravated look on Hermione's face in the floo.

"Hmph…" she answered, her face finally morphing from irritated annoyance to concern. She sighed deeply before continuing. "You boys know I just worry about you, especially on these major missions. You're not going after your run-of-the-mill criminals tonight, you realize, and you specifically Ron have more reason than most to come home safely."

Harry arched a dark eyebrow as Ron's face began to darken to match his hair. "I'll explain later, mate," he whispered harshly towards Harry before continuing to speak with his wife. "And I promise, 'Mione, I'll be back by dawn…"

"And in one piece?" she asked with an arched eyebrow of her own.

"I swear on Gryffindor's sword that I'll return your husband in one piece, even if I have to kill him to do it." Harry solemnly raised his left hand to cover his heart and lifted his right palm in promise.

Ron simply let his eyes roll again as his wife gave another sigh. "Just be careful," Hermione finally said, before cracking a wry smile. "And watch your necks, eh?" With that, the floo connection sizzled out.

"Finally," Ron huffed out in exasperation. He loved Hermione, Merlin knows he did, but sometimes her worrying just got to be too much! He was a fully grown 25-year-old wizard trained from both the war against Voldemort (which had ended some eight years ago) and from years of auror experience. Not to mention he had the bloody Boy-Who-Lived as a partner. So what if he held the record for most days spent in St. Mungo's? He always managed to come back relatively unscathed…

Ron was drawn back out of his musings by the sound of a throat clearing behind him. He turned around and looked sheepishly into the pair of green eyes drilling into him. "So," Harry began in his most innocent voice, "what exactly did Hermione mean about having a particular reason to come home? Hmmmmmm?"

Ron sheepishly avoided his friend's gaze and began walking towards their office door. "Oh, it's nothing really...Just Hermione being her normal overly concerned self." Ron had just managed to turn the doorknob to begin walking out the door when he felt the door pull against him and slam, the sound of a locking charm firmly clicking into place in front of him. With a flustered sigh he turned back towards his best friend, who was leaning nonchalantly against his desk while fiddling with his wand.

"Bollocks," Harry replied with an almost bored tone in his voice. He eventually dropped the carefree attitude to stare deeply into Ron's face, looking for signs of deception. He finally rolled his eyes and sighed. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Ron dropped his eyes again and began biting at his already too short fingernails. "I know, mate," he said, barely above a whisper. "It's just…Hermione's pregnant, and well, after last time…" his voice trailed off as his eyes began staring blankly at his shoes.

"You're afraid of what will happen?" Harry asked, his voice full of concern as he reached over to place a comforting hand on Ron's shoulder. Harry could feel the slight shaking under his fingers and knew his friend was hiding the better part of his emotions.

Finally, Ron dropped into a chair in front of the desk and lifted his eyes to meet Harry's again. "I suppose, mate. I mean, I know what happened to Gin isn't likely to happen to 'Mione, but still…" His voice began quivering ever so slightly as it dropped into a whisper again. "Plus…I mean, I worry terribly about my wife, I do, but the truth is I was more worried about you…What would happen when you found out…You were so devastated when…that happened…"

"You mean when I lost Gin and James," Harry smiled sadly down at his best friend, his eyes glistening just slightly. His voice had dropped into a whisper as well. "And it's not just about me. I know you miss her, too, Ron, but it's been six years. No one will ever replace her, or him, in my eyes or in yours. But we have healed, we've moved on." His smile brightened into a grin as he clumsily drew his auror robes under his glasses to wipe away the incipient tears. "I am really happy for you, Ron. Enjoy this time! I loved watching Gin throughout the pregnancy. It seemed that she got more beautiful everyday." He paused to sigh and gaze unseeing into the distance beyond Ron's face before continuing. "If anyone deserves the happiness, it's you and Hermione." He shook his head suddenly before punching Ron playfully in the arm. "Just you get ready for the morning sickness, eh?"

Ron finally let out a deep breath he didn't know he'd been holding before grinning stupidly up at Harry. "Oh, I imagine 'Mione's already researching her very own morning sickness remedy, forgetting of course that she did the same for Gin and never found anything." Ron finally stood and stretched before flicking his wand at the door, releasing the locking charm and thus signaling the end of the conversation. "In any case, we've got a hive of rogue vampires to catch tonight, and seeing as how it's already mid afternoon, I'm going to try to catch a couple of hours of sleep before we head out. Can't expect me to be on my best game without a proper rest now, can we?"

Harry grinned sheepishly before stepping off the desk and returning to his seat. "I've got some paperwork to catch up with here, but I might join you in a bit."

Ron yawned obnoxiously before stepping out the door. "I'll be on the sofa in the lounge if you need me. If I try to go home to nap that damned kneazle will be trying to sleep on my face."

As soon as the door had shut behind his partner, Harry replaced the locking charm and added a silencing charm for good measure. He turned to the one tiny window in the room, spelling it dark, before the whispered "Nox" tossed the room into darkness. Harry pressed his fingertips into his eyelids, willing the tension headache to dissipate. Harry had not been lying when he mentioned paperwork to be done. He just had no intention of doing it. The truth was that his conversation with Ron had left him with emotions he felt he needed to spend time processing alone. Harry had never been one to deal well with his emotions, and he certainly was never one for sharing them freely. No, his feelings were best left tended to in the darkness of a lonely room, where they couldn't hurt those around him.

"Harry, I'm quite fine," Ginny gently held her fiancé's hand and brought it up to her cheek. "The healers are just worried about my blood pressure a bit. It's quite common in pregnancies. You've had a rough week at work, so please just go home and get some sleep. For me. I won't be able to rest if I know you're spending all night worrying. I'll be waiting for you to pick me up in the morning." She smirked coyly and gestured to the chair next to the hospital bed. "Besides, if my mother finds out you spent the evening sleeping in that terribly uncomfortable-looking chair she'll have your hide for breakfast."

Harry sighed and reluctantly pressed his lips to Ginny's forehead. "Fine, fine, fine. Can't have Molly get heartburn from eating my hide, now can we?" He smiled before lowering his lips to hers. "I love you, Gin." He then moved down the hospital bed to place a gentle kiss on the tiny bump on her lower abdomen. "You too, James." He smiled broadly, if with a bit of a concerned expression on his face. He headed for the exit of the room and began to step through the door before turning back to face his future wife and unborn son.

Ginny smiled beatifically up at him as the setting sun cast long streams of light through the window. At that moment, Harry couldn't help but to think just how much she looked like an angel. She gazed at her fiancé for a moment more before her eyelids began to flutter, the light sedative she'd been given earlier finally kicking in. "We love you, Harry James Potter." Harry grinned in spite of himself before walking out of St. Mungo's and back to his flat.

It had been the last time he'd ever heard his sweet Ginny's voice. It was a sudden onset of eclampsia followed by cerebral hemorrhage, a sudden, tragic, and unexpected end to a life that had finally been free. In a short series of moments, Harry felt like he had lost his entire future. His fiancé and his son had been taken away by a sharp twist of fate. They had just learned the gender of their unexpected (but very welcome) child the week before. The healers, of course, had done everything they could for Ginny, and had even tried to save the drastically underdeveloped child to no avail. By the time a mediwitch had flooed into his flat shortly after midnight that night, it was too late. Mother and child were both gone.

Harry continued to apply pressure to his eyes, his glasses now tossed near where his elbows rested on his desktop. Harry did, in fact, feel happy for his best friends. Hermione and Ron had decided to wait until they were a bit older before starting a family, but now they were both well-established and ready to put the effort into raising kids and balancing careers. But no, happiness is not what Harry felt right now.

Bitterness had been most of what Harry had felt since Ginny's death. After a year or two he had finally been able to step back in the light of day (figuratively speaking), finally rejoining his friends in some semblance of a life. But those who knew Harry, who REALLY knew him, could see past the façade. They could see past the bright smiles and the raucous laughter to the pain. Harry had spent the first seventeen years of his life bouncing from one trial to the next. First the Dursleys, then Hogwarts with its yearly near-brushes with death, then the final destruction of Voldemort and a brush with ACTUAL death. After the lost had been mourned and lives had begun to rebuild, it seemed like Harry was finally going to have his happy ending.

Ginny and Harry had resumed their relationship shortly after Voldemort's ultimate demise. It just seemed like the right thing to do. Harry DID love Ginny and found comfort in the reliability of their relationship. When she had discovered she was pregnant, Harry did what any boyfriend in love with a pregnant girlfriend would do: he proposed. Harry was finally getting everything he ever wanted: a family.

Fate fucks me over yet again, he had often thought to himself in the following days. Harry did, of course, realize that his friends had been as heartbroken as he was over Ginny's death, but Ginny did not just represent another loss to him. No, he had had plenty of those during the war. Ginny represented the death of his life. For six years he had been walking around as a shell of who he had once been.

To make matters worse, now he had the burden of guilt placed upon his shoulders. Intellectually, he knew he had no reason to feel guilty. He had plenty of reason, no matter how irrational, to be jealous of his friends' good fortune. He also knew that, for their sake, he would hide just how jealous their happy life made him feel, how alone and lost he felt, and how his chest ached for what he had lost. But guilt he would feel, nonetheless, because not only could he NOT feel completely happy for his friends: he also couldn't give them the benefit of knowing just how unhappy he was.

"GOD DAMN IT TO THE SEVENTH LAYER OF A FIERY BRIMSTONE HELL!!!!" Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice roared throughout the caverns where teams of aurors were fruitlessly searching. The looming gentleman's dark features had turned even darker as his temper seemed to rise even higher. Harry couldn't say that his temper was any better. The only thing restraining him from punching the cavern wall was knowing that, if he did, he would likely break a knuckle and require a trip to St. Mungo's. He had experienced a tough enough night without adding the hassle of a healer's visit.

Minister Shacklebolt had insisted on accompanying the aurors on this particular raid, which had been weeks in the planning. A rogue group of vampires, led by a certain vampire only known as "DarkStar," had spent the last several months terrorizing the area around London. Vampires and wizards had lived somewhat amicably in the years since Voldemort's defeat, as the Ministry had continued making various attempts to treaty with differing vampire clans. Most clans were more than happy to follow the rules set forth by the Ministry: they were to attack only to feed, and not to kill while doing so; they were to obliviate victims who did not consent to the feeding; they were not to turn any victims without permission of the victim; and they were never to torture. DarkStar's "hive," as it called itself, felt no love for the Ministry. It felt it had no need for the Ministry's protection, and therefore felt no need to follow its rules.

The reports received from the wizarding sections of London was bad enough. Dozens of wizards had gone missing in the past six weeks alone, only to be found completely drained of all blood with evidence of physical torture on and within their broken bodies. Of the two known survivors of DarkStar's hive, both had been turned and briefly confined to St. Mungo's before being released. Both had soon thereafter committed suicide.

To make matters worse, DarkStar didn't restrict his activities to wizards. Many muggles had likewise felt his torture, and none had managed to survive. The obliviators were working overtime, too, seeing as how the hive didn't seem to care whether they were seen.

Various informants had been feeding information to the aurors as they could, tracking the individuals that made up the hive and following their movements. The particular underground cavern where the aurors now searched had been the latest known nesting site for the hive. A few more missing wizards had been found within the caverns, completely drained of blood, but not a living vampire in sight. It seemed that the hive had moved on.

"Or they knew we were coming," Harry mumbled to himself. Weeks of planning, primarily by Ron, Kingsley, and himself, had been wasted. And for what? A few bodies? At least, he supposed, they would be able to notify the families of what had happened to their kin. As if the missing vampires weren't enough, Harry was doubly troubled by the fact that they had yet to find any survivors.

Harry took a deep breath. "Oi, Ron! Kingsley! I'm heading in this direction! Looks like there's a second entrance this way!" Harry could see the faint traces of the dawn beginning to creep its way into the darkened cave in the distance.

Ron and Kingsley both nodded as they began using mobilicorpus to lift the bodies of the deceased towards the main cavern entrance. "Be careful, alright, mate? Send us a patronus if you need us!" Ron held his nose as he got near a particularly old corpse. The maggots had already set into the long gashes that had been cut into the thighs and calves of the now faceless wizard. One could only assume the intention had been to make him unable to run.

Keeping a lumos glowing at the end of his wand, Harry slowly made his way towards the light in the distance. He doubted he would run into anymore vampires—or any survivors—on his way through the caverns, but one could never be too sure. He gradually forced his instincts to block out the sounds of aurors rummaging behind him in the previous caverns and instead listened to what lay ahead of him. He heard only the stillness of the cave, with the occasionally gust of wind, which he assumed was coming from this second exit.

However, as Harry crept closer towards the light, he heard an almost inaudible rasping sound, like air forced through a raw throat. Keeping his wand at the ready, he whispered "Nox" as he continued silently towards the source of the sound. He rounded a corner, finding both the end of the tunnel and the source of the sound.

A body lay sprawled out on the ground, the head and arms towards Harry while the legs pointed towards the slowly approaching sun. As Harry approached, he noticed the large gashes cutting through the muscles on the back of the body's thighs and calves. A more careful examination proved they'd been cauterized to prevent any natural or basic magical healing. Harry could only assume, like the wizard they'd found earlier, the victim hadn't been intended to be able to run. Drag marks on the ground seemed to indicate that the victim had tried to crawl further into the cave, away from the light, but hadn't been very successful. However, that wasn't the most disturbing aspect of the nude body's appearance. The entirety of the being's skin (for it almost didn't seem human) seemed to be a pale gray, the color of ash, with a series of cracks making the skin seem more like a patchwork of rock than living, breathing skin.

In fact, Harry was surprised to find the body breathing at all. The rasping sound certainly seemed to be coming from the body before him, and as he watched he saw the unsteady rising and falling of the emaciating back, Harry couldn't help but smile. They had found a survivor! Maybe this person could give them more information on where the hive was fleeing next! Harry quickly stepped through the darkness to approach the being's side. He noticed that as the sun began casting longer streams of light into the cavern, the rasping coming from the body seemed to become a pained whimper. As he looked towards the victim's feet, he noticed what resembled steam rising from the very ends of the toes, which were just now bathed in sunlight. He noticed that the cracking of the skin became even more pronounced at the bottoms of the feet as he watched them seem to cook in the sun.

Oh…OH!!! Harry quickly realized what the problem was. This victim, whoever he was, had been turned before being abandoned. His legs having been ruined—most likely while still human—the hive had left this new vampire to slowly die as he was exposed to sunlight. Vampires, of course, were allergic to sunlight in any form, but it would take days of direct exposure to actually die from it. In the meantime, it was undoubtedly incredibly painful, and from the looks of it the poor thing could survive maybe another hour, at most.

Harry quickly knelt by the body and was surprised to see eyes flutter open. Harry gazed at the grey irises in shock as he began to piece together the identity of the unfortunate victim. Grey, piercing eyes, pupils constricting in the ever increasing sunlight. Fine silver-blonde hair, matted in places to an almost brown color by dirt and blood. Emaciated frame with long, feminine features.

Harry had just found the long missing Draco Malfoy.

Harry quickly cast mobilicorpus on the trembling form and backed him away from the increasing sunlight. "Malfoy, can you understand me?" Harry whispered desperately from near the young man's torso. It was obvious the poor creature would have trouble moving, but Harry had no desire to come near the mouth of a vampire that may or may not be hungry. Harry imagined the former.

Malfoy's pupils continued to dilate and contract as if fighting for his vision to clear. They sought out Harry's face before giving an almost imperceptible nod. Malfoy's lips were moving, but it seemed that his voice would allow him to give little more than a whimper.

Harry took the nod as a yes and continued speaking. "Have you fed recently?" he whispered again into the suffering face. Malfoy seemed to try to move his head again, only to increase the trembling now racking his body. "No," he seemed to mouth, although no sound came out.

Harry sighed. "OK, then we should take care of that first." Harry reached to the ground and picked up a stone, which he quickly transfigured into an ordinary goblet. Harry pointed his wand at his left forearm before throwing a weak slashing hex, drawing a thin line of blood to the surface. He carefully allowed enough blood to fill the goblet before quickly casting a basic healing charm at his arm. Very cautiously, he approached Malfoy with the goblet before pressing it to the young man's lips. "Drink," he ordered.

Malfoy's eyes seemed to flicker from the goblet, back to Harry's face, and back to the goblet again, before allowing his lips to part at the edge of the goblet. As Malfoy's tongue began gently lapping at the liquid, Harry cautiously stepped around to help support the ashen-faced head so that he might drink more easily.

Having emptied the goblet, Malfoy seemed to have regained his voice, if not much else. "Potter," he intoned weakly. Surprised at the unexpected soft but harsh sound, Harry turned again to face Malfoy.

"Yes?" Harry continued to whisper in the dark.

"Whatever else you may do," Malfoy struggled, taking another rasping breath, "don't let them come back. Get me out of here." With that final plea—and did Harry actually see pleading in Malfoy's eyes?—the grey eyes began to flicker shut.

"I promise, Malfoy," he whispered as the troubled breathing seemed to even somewhat. Harry quickly shot off a patronus to Ron, detailing what he'd found, before casting mobilicorpus on Malfoy's form again. Maybe one good thing would come out of this raid: he might have more information on DarkStar an

Reviews = Love. Or hate. Constuctive criticism is always accepted with open arms. I use flames to set off Roman candles. :)

Oh, and P.S. -- This chapter has been updated primarily for one or two grammatical things. No need to re-read.