A/N: I know, I know! I'm terrible with the spacing of the updates! The truth is that I get the chapter outlined relatively quickly, but it takes me several hours of uninterrupted composition time to get the actual chapter typed up, and those blocks of time are generally very difficult to find these days. I was lucky enough to have a three-day weekend to get this done!

As for my lovely reviewers, thank you so much for all of your support! You guys are what keeps me coming back to write sometimes. Oh, and since Ginny came back up this chapter, I thought I would address something an earlier reviewer mentioned about "getting her out of the way"...I actually like Ginny Weasley as a character. I can enjoy fic where she is a manipulative evil bitch, although I don't really see that as necessarily realistic, and I don't really see it as realistic when she is all super-supportive of Harry's coming out process and becomes his cheerleader and best friend either. Let's face it, being in love with someone who doesn't love you back HURTS. In this particular story, I think Harry did and does love Ginny very much, but sometimes things just happen, and there's nothing anyone can do about it. Again, I don't dislike Ginny Weasley, but this is a Harry/Draco story and I did have to get rid of her somehow!

A/N #2: Someone pointed out to me that I had anonymous reviews disabled! Eep! It's fixed now! Thanks so much for what you've left already! Reviews & con/crit are my drug. :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing. JKR & company own everything, much to my dismay. :(

Warnings: Hardly anything in this chapter other than a little bit of language and self-loathing. Otherwise this one's relatively safe, and I hope takes care of the cliffie I left last chapter. Hope you all have a wonderful day! Also, a reminder that I am STILL Beta-Less, which means all mistakes are mine. (Again, if you are interested in Beta-ing for me, shoot me a PM and we'll talk.)

Chapter 6 – The Call

The burning in his veins and stomach had only intensified since Harry – Potter, he corrected himself – had left. Whether it had been minutes or days since the auror had left the flat, Draco could not say. With the scent of merlot in his nostrils, the sound of Harry's – POTTER'S – heartbeat always floating in the back of his hearing, Draco could control the urge to feed. He wanted – needed – permission to feed, and without that permission he would not do it. He would not hurt his Harry…

Draco realized quickly that the thoughts he had been housing did not seem to be his own. It was as if he was of two minds, bickering for control of his still-weakened body. One voice, the one he recognized best, was the one he dubbed the "sane" one. It sounded much as Draco's own voice did, and was constantly reminding him of just who he was staying with, just how much he owed the savior of the wizarding world, just how much he wanted to HATE him…And just how unworthy he was to have been saved, yet again, by Harry Bloody Potter.

The second voice seemed much more primal, stronger, darker, huskier. It reminded him over and over again that Harry – for it REFUSED to call him anything else – BELONGED to Draco. He was his to protect, his to drink from, his to lo—and the first..the sane voice would stop that line of thinking right there.

But right now, it was the darker voice that was taking control. It was terribly, murderously ANGRY. Not at Harry, for Harry had freely offered his blood for the taking, but at the puny disgusting HUMAN the voice had found itself attached to. It wanted – NEEDED – blood, needed to feel the life-force rejuvenating its own soul, and the human had denied it!

The voice fought and fought until Draco no longer felt his own voice in his head. It had been shoved into the farthest crevice of his mind where it had no control. The monster in his soul had completely taken over, and somewhere in his sub-consciousness, Draco could feel his body writhing in pain and hunger.

Then, just as the pain was cresting, it seemed to expode. Harry was here! He could feel his magic stepping back into the warded flat. The monster looked through a blood-red haze and watched as its life walked into the bedroom. The creature's voice seemed to cackle through the haze of Draco's mind as it watched the human look around blindly for some sort of answer. 'It's worried about us,' it crooned to Draco. 'How sweet.'

'NO!' Draco's own hysterical voice cried out. 'Don't hurt him! I hate you! I HATE YOU I HATE YOU!'

The monstrous voice only chuckled in response. 'I hate you, too, Draco Malfoy…'

The inner dialogue was shattered by a single command from the human's lips: "Drink," the baritone commanded. Draco wasted no more time, but lowered his fangs to the wrist in front of him and drank. The sweet coppery taste hit his tongue like a wave of pure ecstasy, and the shaking of Draco's previously weak body trembled with pleasure. He drank deeply, pulling the life-force further and further into his own body, keening in joy and satiation.

The monster began to feel satiated, and Draco quickly began forcing it to the back of his mind. Draco did not know when the shackles on his wrists had been released, but he vaguely became aware of the tight grip he now had on Harry's – Potter's – arm. It took every ounce of his willpower to carefully retract his fangs from the bloodied and mangled wrist in front of him – Oh, Merlin! So much blood! – and he quickly looked down to his lap as he watched dull green eyes flutter shut.

"Potter…" Draco called in a raspy voice as he shook the man sprawled across his lap. "Potter?" he questioned again when he got no response. Draco reached his fingers down and gently applied pressure to the base of Harry's neck, feeling for a pulse. Though still there, it seemed rapid and weak.

Draco quickly wrapped the edge of the duvet around the bloody wrist, hoping to be able to stem the weakening flow of blood from the wound. He felt panic begin to descend like a madman, which made the monster – who seemed now to be sitting in the back of Draco's head, content to watch and see what he would do – begin prompting him.

'You've taken too much,' he taunted. 'I will be VERY disappointed if you have killed MY Harry,' it crooned.

"I didn't do anything!" Draco protested aloud. "You made me do it!"

The voice fell silent, and Draco's panic climbed to new heights. He COULDN'T let Harry – Potter – die! As if being turned wasn't punishment enough, who knew what would happen when Weasley and Granger (Hermione, he corrected himself) came back and discovered what he had done. No, he had to save Harry. He looked around the room frightfully, wishing for a solution, but knew there wouldn't be one. Harry MIGHT keep blood replenisher in stock in the loo, but Draco's legs were being usually unresponsive, not to mention the fact that he was pinned underneath Potter's dead – and wasn't that a terrible thought – weight. Finally, Draco did the only thing he could think of. He drew on the tendrils of innate magic in his body, and sent them out blindly. 'We're in trouble!' he cried as loudly as he could in his head. 'Somebody! We need help!' With every ounce of magic he could pull from his magical core, he sent out a distress signal, all the while holding the duvet to Harry's wrist and gently combing fingers through his raven hair.

Hermione couldn't help but chastise herself for her pure short-sightedness. How could she NOT have thought to consult the Black libraries? They had been one of the darkest pureblood families in the UK, possibly in all of Western Europe, and Harry had never gotten rid of any of their books, the one set of Dark artifacts he had chosen to hide from the Aurors after the war. If there was any addition information on vampires to be found, it would likely be in this library.

Hermione was grinning broadly after her search had proven fruitful. She had close to fifteen books to study now—granted, she had to fight some of the sentient ones off with her wand before they would let a muggleborn touch them—but she now had them all subdued, shrunken with a quick charm, and tossed into a messenger bag over her shoulder.

She glanced down at her muggle watch and was surprised to see that she had left Harry over an hour ago. Surely it would not take THAT long to make sure Malfoy—Draco—was properly fed, would it? Just as she had made the decision to floo back to Harry's flat, she felt a voice in the back of her head that sounded DISTURBINGLY like Draco's. 'We're in trouble! Somebody, we need help!' Hermione wasted no more time worrying and instead dashed quickly to the floo.

­­­­­

Ron couldn't help but snicker to himself at how easy it was to sneak into the vampire registry. The blonde woman, whom he had ALWAYS known to be a little vapid, had absolutely no business working for the Magical Creatures department. The woman had obviously no qualms concerning the Wizengamot's decision earlier that day, which had already apparently begun spreading through the Ministry. If Rita Skeeter hadn't known already she probably did now.

"Thinking of going hunting tonight?" she asked in a low voice as she shuffled the folder of names to Ron. He almost laughed outright at her when she teasingly tried to pull the folder back.

Ron let his eyes run up the blonde's rather…lumpy…body (he supposed she was trying to go for curvy but just had curves in a few too many places) and put a fake leer into his eyes. "Maybe," he said as he quirked a smirky smile he had learned from George. No one knew how to mime seduction better than George Weasley.

The blonde blushed – but in blotches rather than in any sort of attractive way – before handing over the file. Ron quickly walked out of his office and to the nearest secure floo, glancing through the names on the list as he traveled. He was not terribly surprised not to recognize a number of the names. After all, muggleborns were far more likely to be bitten than purebloods. Pureblood wizards were raised from birth with a fear of vampires. Vampires drank blood, something highly valued by most of pureblood society. A pureblood would be trained to take certain precautions in the event of being near any suspected vampire activity. They often would likely off themselves if ever turned. Obviously, vampire blood was still tainted blood, regardless of what sort of power came with the change, and in the eyes of the pureblood, there was no salvation from having dirty blood.

Ron continued glancing through the file until his eyes stopped on one Blaise Zabini. His eyes got wider as he read some of the information next to his name. Apparently he was consensually turned, which to Ron meant he was either trying to make permanent a relationship with another vampire or just had a vampire kink. Knowing Zabini's reputation shortly after the war for being a playboy, Ron suspected the latter.

The more he thought about it, Blaise would likely be the perfect person to get the vampire underground rolling. If he had been turned more than a year or two ago – and by the looks of his information it looked to have been at least four – and he was still living as a playboy in the underground, he probably had connections that could be useful to get the ball rolling.

Ron had just picked up a handful of floo powder when an almost imperceptible voice floated into his ear. It seemed distressed, but Ron otherwise could make out nothing. He glanced at an auror-in-training walking down the hall, head in some training manual (and oh how Ron did NOT miss those days), so Ron called out to him.

"Oi, mate, did you hear anything just now?" The young man looked around himself and shrugged his shoulders.

"No, sir," he shouted back somewhat timidly. "I didn't even realize I wasn't alone." The brunette seemed to flush at the admission, which made Ron smirk.

"Yes, I suppose that means you might want to spend less time in a book and more time watching your surroundings, especially if you want to make it in this field." Seeing the young recruit's unease, he allowed himself a small smile. "Don't worry about it though, mate. Have a good evening!" The young man ducked his head and seemed to walk even faster down the hall and out of Ron's sight.

Ron yawned deeply before tossing the powder into the flames. He would pass the information onto Zabini and hopefully something would be rolling before dawn. Then he would head back to Harry's and collapse on the recliner for a while. He must be tired if he was hearing voices in an almost empty Ministry building.

Hermione didn't waste time brushing off her robes as she stepped from Harry's floo, but instead rushed towards the bedroom. She was not prepared for the sight that greeted her upon her arrival. Draco was sitting up, no longer in shackles, with Harry sprawled across his lap. Draco's right hand was desperately holding onto Harry's wrist, the duvet wrapped around it drenched in blood, and his left was combing desperately through Harry's hair. Draco was hunched over Harry protectively, whispering something Hermione couldn't hear into his ear. Just then, he seemed to register her presence.

"Hermione!" Draco called over to her, his voice raspy and breaking. "You've gotta do something! He came home and I – I lost it – and he fed me – only I think I took too much…He's got a pulse still but it's getting weaker, and I can't get up to help him or have a wand or anything!"

Hermione walked cautiously but quickly and sat on the bed next to the two men. She pried Draco's fingers away from his injured wrist, not flinching in the slightest at the sight of the mangled flesh. A whispered word from her and a flick of her wand and the wound was knitting itself back together. She dug into her shoulder bag past all the miniaturized books and withdrew a few potion vials that she had learned to keep on her in her work as a Healer.

"Draco," she said soothingly as she realized he was still trembling next to her, "I am going to carefully pour these into his mouth. I need you to massage his throat while I do it to make sure he swallows them, okay?" She smiled hesitantly at the frightened blonde, and he seemed to relax just a bit. He returned a hesitant smile and began trying to put Harry in a more helpful position. Once they had successfully gotten the potions down his throat, Hermione lifted his undamaged wrist, feeling for a pulse as she timed it with her watch.

"I think that ought to do it," she said finally. "He'll be weak for a bit but he should be no worse for the wear. I imagine he'd be coming around right about now if he hadn't already been so exhausted. It may be a bit before he rejoins us." She quickly brandished her wand, cleaning and sorting out the bed sheets and levitated Harry into a more comfortable position next to Draco, who had gone even paler than usual as they had worked.

"Draco, are you okay?" she asked hesitantly, not knowing whether her comfort was needed or wanted. Draco met her eyes, and she saw they were bloodshot and glistening.

"No," he whispered. "No, I'm not." His shoulders started trembling and he brought his hands up to cover his eyes. Hermione just watched and waited for him to continue.

"Do you know what it's like," he said finally, "to spend your entire adult life in the service of evil? First the Dark Lord, then DarkStar and his hive…" He paused and seemed to gulp for air. "Don't get me wrong Granger—"

"Hermione," she corrected gently and placed a hand tentatively on his knee.

"—I know I was stupid when I was a kid. I didn't know what I was getting into when I took the Dark Mark, or when I begged for my life the night the hive came to the Manor…But…but you have to believe me, I didn't WANT things to turn out this way." His breath was coming in spasms now, his voice bordering on unrecognizable as it got louder through his tears. "And here Saint Potter comes, rescuing me yet again from my own stupidity…I should have just fed when he offered earlier. I wouldn't have let that—thing—take over my thoughts. I could've stopped this. I ALMOST KILLED HIM!" He turned towards Hermione and gave her the most awfully desperate look she had ever seen. "WHY COULDN'T HE JUST LET ME DIE?!?!"

And with that he seemed to have used up all his air reserves. He was sobbing in earnest now, for once not concerned with who was watching him cry. Hermione hesitantly took her arms and wrapped them around him. He stiffened in her embrace but did not pull away.

"Oh, Draco, honestly..." she whispered into his hair as she rubbed his back soothingly. "You couldn't help any of what's happened to you, not really. Sure, you were a bit of a prat when you were a boy, but who could blame you, growing up as you did? You were never REALLY evil. You couldn't kill Dumbledore, even to protect your family, and you CERTAINLY had nothing to do with what's happened to you since then." She pulled away from him and forced him to look her directly in the eye. "Draco, you are NOT a monster. You called for help when you needed it, to save him. You stopped feeding before it was too late, though by now with such a low supply you must be STARVING for a full meal."

Draco closed his eyes desperately and tried to pull away, but Hermione vowed to have none of it, and pulled him back into her embrace. "Draco, most wizards who survive an unwanted transformation, well…it's not pretty. They go through periods of depression. Many end up finding ways to kill themselves. It's unpleasant, but there it is." She had lifted a hand to Draco's hair and began playing with the silky strands. "A lot of people just can't take what they have become. What they don't understand is that who they are has NOTHING TO DO with whether they are a vampire or not. There are plenty of people—good and evil—both vampire and human. You are who you choose to be." She pulled Draco back and looked into his eyes again, which were wide with hope, but still distressed. "I can't speak for Harry, or Ron, or anyone else, but now, without the influence of the Dark Lord or the hive, I'd like to watch and see who you might choose to be."

With that final statement, Draco threw himself back into Hermione's arms, embracing her as if afraid to be anywhere else, and burying his face in her neck, causing Hermione to smile and sense a vague interest in the fact that she felt no fear.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" Hermione felt Draco jump from her arms with the verbal explosion. She heard a cry of "Petrificus Totalus!" before watching a red light blast the blonde off the bed and into the corner of the room. She looked towards the direction of the light's source and saw her husband glaring angrily – and fearfully – down at the now paralyzed Draco.

Ronald Bilius Weasley was seeing red. He stood frozen for a minute as he took in the scene. Harry was laid out on the bed, obviously dead to the world (although Ron wouldn't entertain that thought for a moment), and his wife with her arms wrapped tightly around a certain fledgling vampire, and that certain vampire with his face buried near her jugular. Any moment he would sink those fangs into his beautiful wife's neck…

"WHAT THE FUCK!" he finally screamed as soon as his mouth caught up with his reeling brain. He pointed his wand at the blonde head that had jumped up. "Petrificus Totalus!" The blonde's paralyzed body was blasted from the bed into the far corner of the room.

Ron quickly stepped over to his obviously still enthralled wife and cupped her cheek gently, checking her for bite marks. Finding none, and seeing Harry breathing, if not awake, decided that his primary focus at the moment would be Malfoy. He stalked over to the blonde and held the tip of his wand to his bare chest. "I WARNED you, Malfoy! I told you that if you ever betrayed Harry or Hermione that I would KILL you. Avad—"

"RONALD, NO!" He heard his wife's voice cried out as he felt her solid and stubborn, if not bulky, weight push against him until he found himself sprawled on the floor as well.

"What the hell, Hermione! He was using his thrall on you! He was going to bite you! He's obviously already done something to Harry!" He gestured to the bed in irritation. His irritation only rose when he saw that Hermione had placed herself stubbornly between himself and the ferret.

"Ronald if you would wait for two seconds and just LISTEN! Malfoy was NOT using his thrall on me and was NOT going to bite me! He's already fed once tonight for Merlin's sake! Harry just let him get carried away and he took a bit too much. I've already given him blood replenisher and he's FINE, just sleeping off the weakness. I was HUGGING Draco because he's my FRIEND and he needed comfort!" Ron couldn't help but gape at his wife.

"You were HUGGING him? You're FRIENDS? 'Mione, this is DRACO FUCKING MALFOY we're talking about! The Death Eater, the bigot who made all of our school years HELL, the vampire who's probably fucking working with DarkStar to get close to Harry for some reason!" Ron couldn't possibly believe that his normally astute wife had become so taken with the vampire. Certainly she HAD to know she was still under the effects of the thrall? Why else would she come to his defense? Ron was still reeling over his wife's behavior that when he found a wand pointed at his own chest.

"Ronald," she said, her eyes blazing, "I suggest you leave now. You've incapacitated him. He's petrified until one of us gives the counter. I won't have you threatening a guest of this house when Harry has obviously offered him sanctuary. What would Harry say if he heard you talking like this?"

"He would say that he thought his best friend had grown up a bit more." Ron and Hermione both jerked their heads over to see Harry sitting up on the bed, rubbing at his still mending wrist absently. "Honestly, Ron, after seeing what he's been through since he's been here, do you honestly think he'd WILLINGLY be working for DarkStar? Your prejudices against Malfoy are no better than his prejudices against muggleborns used to be."

Ron did not move as a powerful witch—his wife, but a powerful witch nonetheless—was still holding a wand to his chest. He watched Harry take a deep breath. "Ron, he's obviously out of commission until we bring him back around, and your shouting is exacerbating what seems to be a dragon-sized headache, so I think it'd be best for you at this point to go take a walk and calm down before coming back in here. I'll get Malfoy back in his restraints so that Hermione and I can figure out what to do next."

"No, Harry," Hermione responded. "I think I need to go have a little chat with my husband. Can you see to Draco for a few minutes? I'll be back shortly." Ron felt his wife jab his wand into his chest.

"Are you mad, Hermione?" He finally said, turning back towards his wife. "I'm not leaving Harry alone with that THING--" he spat towards Malfoy's still petrified form—"when it's OBVIOUS he's still got you two under some sort of compulsion." Ron was surprised to feel a second wand jabbing into his chest.

"Go with Hermione," Harry's irritated voice drawled. "You don't even have to leave the flat, just leave the bedroom for five FUCKING MINUTES so I can see if I can salvage some of the damage you just caused!" Ron watched Harry take a deep breath and shuttered when his burning green eyes met Ron's. "I will hex you, Ron, if you don't get out of here in the next ten seconds."

Ron fumed in disbelief but knew better than to fight Harry when he was like this. He turned around and marched towards the living room, tossed floo powder into the fireplace, and in an instant he was gone. He arrived in the living room of the house he shared with his wife and headed straight for the bottle of Ogden's in the kitchen. He knew at this point he was fighting a losing battle, and just hoped that he didn't lose his two best friends – to their anger or death – before the evening was out.

"Harry, I'm SO sorry," Hermione said as she looked sadly at Harry. He just smiled gently at her.

"You know Ron's temper," he shrugged. "Give him a couple of hours and he'll be ready to talk about it like an adult."

"Perhaps," she said with an exasperated sigh, "but at this particular moment he's very protective and will probably feel better if I don't keep him waiting. I've been talking with Draco tonight and I definitely have gotten some ideas I'd like to share with you, but I suppose it can wait until morning." She gestured over to Malfoy. "Are you sure you're going to be able to handle him?"

Harry smiled. "No problem, 'Mione. I think the two of us should talk anyway." Hermione just beamed back at him before reaching up and kissing his cheek.

"I'll be back in the morning," she said and walked towards the floo herself.

After listening for the whoosh of the floo, Harry turned back to Malfoy. His body was still petrified in an awkward position, and his eyes were shining. "Finite Incantatem," Harry whispered gesturing towards the blonde. Malfoy, slowly, oh so slowly, uncramped his arms, but still couldn't get his legs to work. Harry could literally see the battle for self-control being waged in Malfoy's eyes before he saw him scrunch his face and eyes up tightly and crumple back to the ground. Harry gently lowered himself next to the blonde on the floor and scooped him into his arms.

"Malfoy?" he whispered, but got no response other than the shivering. "Draco?" The blonde seemed to tense slightly at hearing his given name but otherwise did not respond. Harry took a deep breath.

"Draco, I heard everything you and Hermione talked about, and I have to tell you that I agree with her. Don't listen to anything Ron says. He's just a hothead with a terrible temper." Harry felt Malfoy push himself out of Harry's arms.

"But he's still right, Harry," he said brokenly. "Everything I ever did, everything I ever suffered, I deserved every bit of it. And here you are, this bloody SAINT of a man who takes me into your home anyway, and what do I do? I attack you almost the moment you walk through the door. I am just a worthless piece of shit…" With that Malfoy covered his face with his hands again.

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his unruly hair. "Draco, you're not worthless. I won't deny that you've made some mistakes, but you can't just give up on life now because it's gotten a little rough! If anything this is your chance to make up for those mistakes and prove to YOURSELF who you are capable of being." Draco's sobbing was quiet but persistent.

"Potter," Draco said in a bitter tone (and why did it make Harry's chest ache that Draco had reverted to calling him Potter), "if you haven't noticed I'm pretty well useless now. Most of the wizarding world thinks I'm dead, and even if I could go out and do something it'd have to be at night since I have NO desire to be back in sunlight again. I can't control this fucking bloodlust for more than a day before I have to feed, and no, not from just anybody, but from the fucking Chosen One of the wizarding world, and on top of all that, I can't even get my legs to work to shift me from here back to the fucking bed that's been my prison ever since I was lucky enough to be RESCUED from a crazed vampire hive." Malfoy took a deep breath, and Harry found himself relieved to hear that some snarkiness had begun creeping back into his voice. "And while we're on the subject, are you and Granger just STUPID or what? I mean, honestly, both of you had more than ample opportunity to get me back into restraints and you didn't. How do you know I'm not going to just try to drain you dry again?"

Harry smirked. "Draco, you've had the opportunity to drain me dry, without protest, TWICE now, and haven't done it either time. If you were going to kill me you'd have done it already. And frankly I think the restraints seem a moot point now. You've proven your trustworthiness, and like you said, it's not like you're going anywhere." Malfoy flinched, and Harry felt like bashing his own head in for his lack of sensitivity. He took another deep breath.

"Look, as long as we're being honest…I gotta tell you, there were PLENTY of times when I felt useless. During the war it kept feeling like people were dying all around me and that I SHOULD HAVE been able to do something about it. Even afterwards when Ginny—" he paused and considered whether to continue or not, which caused Malfoy to lock eyes with him in curiosity. Harry decided to just follow his instincts and bite the bullet. "When Ginny died, I blamed myself for years, thinking there was something I could have done, something I SHOULD have done to prevent it. Hell, I still blame myself for that sometimes." He felt his own eyes getting watery and quickly pressed his fingers to his eyes, trying to avoid the eventual onslaught.

The silence had just begun to get uncomfortable when Draco's voice penetrated it…"Harry, if…if you don't mind telling me…how did…your girlfriend…how did she die?" The stumbling was so unlike the Malfoy that Harry knew that he couldn't help but smile.

"She…she was pregnant with our child. She had passed out at Molly's house during a visit, so we took her to St. Mungo's to get it checked out. They put her in hospital for observation because of her blood pressure. I should have stayed with her, but she insisted I head home and get rest so I'd be excited to see her in the morning." He felt Draco flinch next to him and he knew his magic had started to respond to his bitterness and anger towards himself. "I got a floo-call that night. Her blood pressure had shot up and something in her brain hemorrhaged. She was dead almost before anyone knew what was wrong. And I know somewhere in the back of my head that there was nothing I could have done to stop it, but I keep thinking maybe if I'd stayed there that night, maybe if I had been there to give her help just a second sooner, she and my son would be here today."

And with that, Harry felt a set of floodgates open that had not been open in years. He was absolutely FURIOUS with himself for getting that emotional, especially in front of Malfoy, but his anger subsided when he felt a pair of strong arms wrap cautiously around him, attempting to give comfort. "I'm sorry," he heard the blonde whisper next to him.

The two stayed like that for several long minutes, with both occasionally sniffling or stopping to wipe tears, but not removing themselves from the floor or each other's embrace.

Finally the blonde next to him spoke up. "Harry?" he heard the timid voice ask.

Harry took a deep breath. "Yes, Malfoy?"

He heard and felt a quiet snort next to him. "Back to Malfoy, are we Potter?"

Harry laughed. "I suppose old habits just die hard." He looked up to see Malfoy grinning back up at him.

"What say you we start a new habit?" He reached out his hand to Harry. "I'm Draco Malfoy. Nice to meet you."

Harry saw the symbolism in the gesture for what it was and reached out to clasp Draco's hand in his. "Harry Potter. Nice to meet you."

"Well, HARRY—" Draco said, emphasizing the name, "It would seem I am in need of assistance in getting to bed. Seeing as how the sun is almost up, we should probably both be getting to sleep." Harry chuckled next to him before casting a lightening charm on the blonde and helping drag him back up to the bed. He helped Draco get settled in before heading towards the living room.

"I know you've been sleeping on the couch," the voice called from the bed just as he was leaving the room. "There's no reason for you to do that. This bed is plenty big enough for two." Harry could feel the blush rising to his cheeks.

"I'm not sure that's the SAFEST idea, Draco," he said finally. "Knowing how much you want to drink me dry." Realizing what he'd just insinuated, his blush deepened until his face seemed to be radiating heat.

Draco brushed off his concern with a wave of your hand. "I wouldn't worry about it. The—vampire—for lack of a better word, it won't let me drink from you without your permission. That's why I've always been able to stop." He frowned slightly at the admission, but shook his head as if to dispel the negative thoughts. "And besides," he finished, looking up to Harry, who could see the slight red tint to Draco's face as well, "I don't think I should be left alone tonight."

Harry nodded. Without another word, he kicked off his trainers, still fully clothed, and climbed onto the empty side of the bed, turning to face away from Draco and whispering "Nox" into the darkness. He listened to the breathing of his companion as it slowed to almost non-existence before allowing himself the luxury of slumber, surprisingly relaxed with the solid weight lying behind him.

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