This is a first for me in many ways. First HP fic, first slash, first M rated and etc.

I'm gonna update some of my other stories later… so…

Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Harry fell down onto his bed as his vision started to blur for the third time that day. He had no idea whatsoever about what was happening to himself and was scared to wits end. He reached towards his face and took of his glasses before placing them down gently on his bedside table. Closing his eyes, he waited until he no longer felt any nausea.

"Harry Potter, report to the Headmaster's Office."

Sighing, he heaved himself up before searching for his glasses he had just put down before making his way to the office. He had been called to Dumbledore's office many times recently, sitting in front of the said man for long periods of time, with Fawkes watching them like a hawk. At times, Dumbledore had asked him about how he felt. Harry had explained his strange nauseous states and was given a foul-tasting cloudy drink in return.

A light shiver ran down Harry's spine and he pulled his cloak tighter around him in retaliation. He whispered the password before he was granted entrance to the office.

Dumbledore was sitting in his chair, his half-moon spectacles perched on his nose. Harry sat down when Dumbledore gestured towards the seat in front of his desk. There was a long pause before Dumbledore broke the silence.

"How have you been feeling?"

"Alright. The nausea is coming more frequently now."

Dumbledore looked at Harry thoughtfully and drew out a cup of cloudy liquid. "Drink," he said.

Taking the goblet, Harry slowly brought it to his lips, already smelling the foul stench of the contents inside. Fawkes turned his head towards Harry, looking at him sharply with his eyes.

Before he was able to take one sip of the drink, there was a loud crash and a hand knocked the goblet to the ground. Fawkes squawked loudly in alarm, flying away from his perch.

Dumbledore shouted, "No!" before Harry felt himself touching a glowing blue object. A Portkey.

Almost immediately, there was a familiar yank around his stomach before landing ungracefully in a field of green grass.

Harry felt inside his cloak for his wand but his kidnapper pinned his arms and torso down.

"Who are you? What do you want!" He yelled at the person on top of him, struggling to get up.

"Be quiet and don't move unless you wished to be knocked out," a voice replied.

Automatically, Harry stopped struggling and commanded himself to calm down. His fear lowered to a mere needle prick size before he asked again, "who are you?"

His kidnapper released his limbs and torso before pulling Harry up onto his feet.

"My name is Christopher. I mean no harm."

Harry examined the figure before him. Christopher was around his own height, bearing the same green eyes as his own. Harry estimated him to be around his mid twenties or so. What startled him, though, was the fact that he felt strangely at ease around the man.

"What do you want?"

"I do not know myself. I was asked to gather all those who had the same eyes as myself and have been experiencing some kind of sickness. I have been watching you for some time now, Harry Potter."

"Who sent you?"

"I don't know his name or what he looks like. All I know is that we are a group of humans called the Almorador, which is short for Alma Devorador. I do not know what the words mean or why we were asked to gather here but I understand that we must follow orders. Will you follow?"

Harry nodded silently. He had a feeling that there were actually no choices to choose between. Besides, he felt at ease, knowing that there were people other than himself who were experiencing the same situations.

"Where are we?"

"We are at the Home. This is where the Almorador eat, sleep and live. You may also want to know that strange things have been happening when new people have been added to the group. Nothing dangerous. Just strange."

At that, Christopher walked towards the tiny tent that was situated in the middle of the field. Opening the flap, he gestured Harry to go inside. It reminded him dimly of the Quidditch World Cup and the tiny tent that he stayed in right before he knew of the Dark Mark.

The inside of the tent was unbelievably huge, just like the one at the World Cup. Sitting around the tent, were five or six people, all males around his age. It seemed like Christopher was around the oldest. Six pairs of emerald green eyes looked at him before turning away, uninterested. The sound of a cauldron of bubbling water reached Harry's ears. Suddenly, he remembered something he had forgotten to ask.

"Christopher?"

"Yes?"

"What was that cloudy water that Professor Dumbledore was about to give me to drink?"

"I do not know. What I do know from these few months is that anything that smells or tastes disgusting is harmful. Why are feces and urine not edible? They're harmful. On top of that, they smell horrible as well."

'That applies to all human beings, I think,' Harry thought.

Christopher cocked his head to the side before smiling, "anyway, welcome to the Home."

Harry smiled in return. His alertness was extremely low and his gut feeling told him he was safe.

Night struck. No one seemed to have moved much, as though they were expecting something to happen soon. Harry understood what they were waiting for though. It was around this time, that he would get sick once more. If what Christopher had said was completely true, the other Almorador would have been expecting the same thing.

Beside him, Christopher muttered very quietly, "It is time. Harry Potter, do not be alarmed about what happens now."

As fast as lightning, one of the Almorador sprung on top of another that was perched on the floor, pinning the latter underneath him. Immediately, the first ones' lips were at the neck of the other, biting, gnawing, disturbing moans erupted from both sides.

Harry looked away as other pairs started to do the same.

Who were these people?

Done! 1000+ words. Hoorah.

Review please. I'm not sure if I'm so good at writing these kinds of fics..

Peace.

Sky~