Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Cannot Save You Now	By : tigrelilje Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 15706 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter fandom nor do I make any money from writing this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Chapter 9
The morning of the first Hogsmeade trip was sunny and warm, giving no hint that fall should be in full effect. Harry was walking toward the Three Broomsticks with Blaise at his side. He had left Theo to his own devices since the boy was determined to sleep as late as possible.
Harry had been filled with malicious glee when he received Rita’s response. He was sure she was angry and fearful of his threat, but he also knew she couldn’t say no to such a potentially juicy story. She had agreed to meet with him at the designated time, alone. Though he hadn’t specifically demanded a private meeting, the tone of his letter suggested that it would be in her best interests to make it one.
He pushed the door open once they arrived at their destination and smiled faintly at the familiar, cozy atmosphere of the little pub. He held the door for Blaise to enter as well as he absently looked around the room for a moment. There were very few patrons at the moment. He spotted Madam Rosmerta behind the bar and made his way over to her with a warm smile.
“Excuse me, are you the beautiful lady I need to speak to if I’m interested in renting a private room for a bit?” Harry said, as if he had no idea who he was talking to.
“Yes, I’m Madam Rosmerta,” she replied with a smile, “the owner of this establishment. Are you meeting someone or is your party here?”
Harry leaned closer and lowered his voice before saying, “A Miss Rita Skeeter is supposed to be meeting me at eleven. Could you perhaps send her along when she arrives?”
“Of course, Mr.?” she trailed off with a questioning look.
“Oh forgive me, how rude of me. My name is Henry Renard, I just transferred to Hogwarts this year. Please, just call me Henry,” Harry said, taking her hand and giving it a kiss as he introduced himself. Madam Rosmerta blushed slightly, looking as if she wasn’t quite sure how to respond to his actions.
“Well, Henry,” she continued, “I’ll send her along when she arrives. How long will you be needing the room?”
“Oh, an hour should be enough,” Harry said. He paid the amount she required before heading to the room he was assigned.
The room was small and cozy, with two armchairs and a little loveseat with a coffee table situated between them. They were all a bit worn looking but gave the impression of comfort. Harry took one of the armchairs and Blaise took the other one next to him. Harry was right, they were comfortable and squishy. He leaned back fully and let himself relax. Despite the upcoming meeting with a woman who had made his life a living hell in the past, he felt completely at ease. He wouldn’t be playing by her rules this time; he was the one in control now.
A moment later, Madam Rosmerta came in with a tea tray with three cups. Harry thanked her before she left once again.
“Are you ready?” Blaise asked quietly.
“Of course,” Harry smiled, “I have nothing to worry about in this encounter.”
“I am looking forward to her reactions to the information you will reveal,” Blaise confessed.
“As am I,” Harry agreed. “Even more so, I look forward to how the students will react. All those silly little children who thought they knew Harry Potter,” he said, with a trace of bitterness in his voice.
Blaise gave him a sympathetic smile as a knock came on the door. Harry got up and opened the door to reveal Rita Skeeter, wearing a surprisingly subdued ensemble as opposed to her usual flashy robes.
“Miss Skeeter,” Harry gave a slight bow, with a somewhat predatory smile, “thank you for coming. Won’t you come in and sit down?”
“Thank you,” she said stiffly after a moment and made her way over to the loveseat. Harry shut and locked the door behind her. He cast the strongest silencing charms he knew on the room before returning to his armchair.
“Why don’t you have some tea, Miss Skeeter,” Harry offered. She looked at it suspiciously and Harry chuckled darkly, “I haven’t added anything to it. It is just tea. You should relax. After all, you are only here to do your job; to be the first to acquire an earth-shattering story before anyone else gets hold of it.”
At the mention of the story, Rita began to slip back into her reporter mode. She poured herself a cup of tea and sat back to sip on it.
“Will you tell me your name and that of your companion?” Rita asked finally.
“Of course,” Harry said agreeably, “after you give an oath on your magic that you will not reveal, in any way, where you got the information for this story. Additionally, you will never reveal that you met with me or my companion. Is that acceptable?”
“Do I have a choice?” Rita scowled.
“No,” Harry said simply, “because I know your secret and you know nothing about me.” Except that I claim to have information on Harry Potter, which could be enough to have someone investigate me, Harry thought to himself. He hoped Rita was too flustered to realize she did have something against him.
“Very well,” Rita relented grudgingly. “This better be a damned good story.”
“Your worry is in vain, madam,” Harry assured her before she took the requested oath.
“Thank you,” Harry said charmingly. “As requested, my name is Henry Renard, and my companion is Blaise Zabini. I’m sure you have questions now that I would be more than happy to answer.”
“You said you had information about Harry Potter,” Rita said, as she began to pull out her supplies, including her Quick Quotes Quill that made Harry want to kill something the moment he saw it.
He snatched the quill away from her and said, “No, you will write your notes by hand. There will be no need to embellish this story for your readers with this contraption.”
His face must have shown how unwilling he was to compromise on this because she only pursed her lips tightly before pulling a normal quill out of her bag.
“Much better,” Harry said. “And yes, I do have information on Harry Potter. All the information you ever hoped to learn about him but never did.”
“So what has happened to Harry Potter?” Rita asked.
“He died this summer,” Harry said bluntly. Rita gaped at him in disbelief, even though he was sure she had already begun to think that this was the truth. “But he didn’t stay dead,” Harry reassured her calmly.
He watched as Rita became confused before he saw her annoyance when she came to the conclusion that he didn’t have any real story for her and was just fooling around.
“Before you write me off, let me assure you that my story is true,” Harry said. “I am just unsure how to prove it to you as I would with others if I were telling them.”
“What do you mean he didn’t stay dead?” Rita asked, clearly still suspicious.
“Let me just lay it out for you, shall I?” Harry asked rhetorically before continuing without a pause. “My name is Henry Renard, but up until July of this past summer, I was known as Harry Potter.” Harry saw Rita’s incredulous look but continued speaking before she could voice her protests. “I was beaten to death, literally, by my abusive muggle uncle. While I was unconscious and bleeding out the last of my life, a vampire saved me and made me like him. I have called you here, not to report that Harry Potter is alive and well, because believe me, Harry Potter is most assuredly dead, but to report a few of the many dark secrets about my human life that I have learned since my death.”
Rita just stared at him for a moment in shock, her quill dangling in her slack grip. Harry had to admit, it was a rather bold declaration for someone to make, but it was the truth. Hopefully she would accept that he was telling the truth and revert back into the vicious reporter he knew her to be.
“And you expect me to believe this?” Rita questioned finally.
“Perhaps not right away,” Harry said dismissively, “but you will. And like I said, you don’t really need to believe that I was once Harry Potter, though I assure you I speak the truth, but you do need to believe the information I will reveal to you about Harry Potter’s life. But first, I have a question for you?”
“What?” Rita asked, clearly still debating the truth of his words.
“Are you opposed to ruining Albus Dumbledore?” Harry replied. He saw the familiar gleam creep into Rita’s eyes that he used to hate, because it meant she was going to fuck up his life somehow; but now he relished it, because it was turning on someone else in his favor.
“Not at all,” Rita purred, suddenly sounding much more like herself at the prospect of damaging the image of an upstanding citizen of Wizarding society. In fact, Dumbledore could almost be considered untouchable.
“Good, very good,” Harry smiled, “because even though I am going to tell you about the life of Harry Potter, I am doing so in the hopes that you will show everyone how warped Dumbledore has become. Harry Potter will definitely be the victim of this story, but I think you would prefer to take down Dumbledore given the chance, no?”
Rita nodded her head eagerly. Harry looked at Blaise out of the corner of his eye and saw his friend observing the conversation with a slight smile on his face.
“Well, let’s start at the very beginning then,” Harry began, pulling a few important documents out of his cloak. “These are the Wills of my parents and my godfather, Sirius Black. If you must, you may check them for authenticity to assure yourself that I speak the truth.”
Harry waited a moment as he watched Rita scan the pieces of parchment with a few spells, clearly determined to double check her information, for once.
“These Wills were ignored in the decision of my upbringing,” Harry explained. “I was not raised by any of the guardians my parents had chosen. In fact, my godfather, Sirius Black, was conveniently arrested and thrown into Azkaban without a trial right when I would have needed him to take on the roll as my guardian.”
“I wouldn’t say it was convenient,” Rita countered, “he was the Secret Keeper for your family. You-Know-Who was able to find your family because of his betrayal. It seems pretty obvious to me that there was no need for a trial. Especially after his memorable confrontation with Peter Pettigrew.”
“Oh, Rita,” Harry said, with a slightly condescending tone of voice, “you of all people should know that things aren’t always what they seem. And just because Albus Dumbledore says something, it does not make it true.
“Siruis Black was not the Secret Keeper, Peter Pettigrew was,” Harry continued. “Though you don’t have to believe me, you should question why Albus Dumbledore allowed one of his trusted followers to be thrown in jail without any mercy when he had the power to do something. The same Dumbledore who is so often accused of foolishly trusting those he shouldn’t, such as Severus Snape, was able to turn his back on Sirius Black without flinching.”
“But why would he do that?” Rita asked logically. “What reason would he have to put him away?”
“Though I cannot be completely sure, I do have a theory,” Harry replied. “I believe that Dumbledore truly believed Black was the Secret Keeper, but it is unlike him that he didn’t question the man before he was sent to jail. Of the three guardians my parents named, Black was the only one that Albus didn’t have an argument against for him to gain custody of me.
“Lupin was easy to dismiss, he’s a werewolf. Of course he shouldn’t be allowed to raise the Savior of the Wizarding world. Wizards are completely distrustful of werewolves and they are frequently denied jobs. Easily dismissed.
“Snape was even easier. A former Death Eater, raising the Boy-Who-Lived? It’s almost laughable,” Harry chuckled. “Even though Dumbledore publicly promotes the innocence of Snape, it doesn’t mean he won’t use people’s distrust to his advantage in private.”
“But once again, why would he want to?” Rita asked curiously.
“Let me ask you a question, Rita,” Harry countered. “If you had a potentially powerful weapon with a conscious mind of its own, how would you like it to develop? Would you want it to be confident, strong, independent, and potentially fight against your wishes? Or would you want a weapon that was submissive and obedient, who was unlikely to question you and too insecure to think that any other path was right.”
“Of course I wouldn’t want a powerful weapon that couldn’t be controlled,” Rita answered, as if the idea were crazy.
“Well, neither did Dumbledore,” Harry said. “At least, considering the next part of my life, I can only assume that was the thought behind his actions. Dumbledore was appointed as my magical guardian, but he did not raise me. Instead he took me to the house of my mother’s sister. How nice, that Harry Potter would be raised by the sister of his mother, a real family member, right?
“But Petunia Dursley was a muggle, and not just any muggle; but a bitter, jealous, magic-hating muggle with a husband of the same mind-set. Now, why would the esteemed Headmaster of Hogwarts, place his charge and future student in such an environment to be raised?
“I was given no contact with the magical world until I received my Hogwarts letter,” Harry said forcefully. “I did not know magic existed. I did not know that my parents were murdered. I was hated and shunned like a dirty secret by the only family I could remember. I was never good enough. Every misfortune that touched the Dursleys was my fault. I was unwanted and unworthy. I spent my whole childhood trying to please them and be good enough for their attention.”
Rita’s expression was one of horror now. As much as she reveled in the destruction of others lives, the thought of such neglect to a magical child was clearly as abhorrent to her as it was to the rest of the Wizarding world.
“Given that information, Rita, what would such a neglected child’s response be to the person who came to take them away from such a dark upbringing?” Harry asked.
“I would imagine the child would be grateful,” Rita finally answered quietly.
“Yes, not only grateful, though,” Harry added, “I daresay there might even be a touch of hero-worship in the child and strong positive feelings towards that individual that would not be easily shaken. Rubeus Hagrid was sent to collect me for my first trip to Diagon Alley but it was quickly made known to me that he had been sent by the very busy and extrememly important Albus Dumbledore. Imagine, such an important person wanted to help me. He must be wonderful.
“Do you want to know the first things I really learned about the Wizarding world? All Slytherins go Dark. My parents were murdered by a Slytherin. And Albus Dumbledore, who was apparently a great friend of my parents, was a great man. I cannot tell you how many times I heard those words out of Hagrid’s mouth.”
“I don’t- But why… How could Dumbledore be this cruel?” Rita finally got out. “He’s the leader of the fight against the Dark Lord! He can’t be this- this- Dark!”
“I never said he was Dark, Miss Skeeter,” Harry said. “No, not Dark, but seriously misguided. I think he has been blinded over the years in his desire to fight against those of dark intent. I think over time he has done things and told himself that it was for the good of all, to convince him that his own guilt was worth the end result. But over time… the more often you do something, the less wrong it feels. Until you no longer think that what you are doing is wrong.”
Rita’s expression showed she was skeptical of Harry’s reasoning. He sighed before saying, “Think about it, Rita. You are an unregistered animagus. You use your ability to spy on people and ruin their lives. Now, as hard as it is to imagine, I can’t believe that you were always like this. Or at least, not this vicious, since being a reporter such as yourself requires a certain level of desire to cause chaos and destruction. The first few times you used your ability to spy probably made you feel a bit guilty, but you got over it quickly. Now, you feel as if it is your right to find the most scandalous story possible, because that’s your job. Is any of this ringing true for you?”
Rita was nodding thoughtfully with a distracted look on her face by the time Harry was done speaking, no doubt recalling the days when her career was just taking off.
“So, is it really so hard to believe that Albus Dumbledore didn’t follow a similar path, which led him to eventually feel like he was entitled to do whatever he had to in order to reach his goal?” Harry questioned.
“No, it is not,” Rita agreed. “But I almost feel as if you are defending him, now. Why is that?”
“I am not defending him,” Harry assured her. “What I am doing is trying to show you that I am aware that Dumbledore is essentially a good guy, who has seriously lost touch with his morals over time. I am not just attacking him out of childish spite, but because I feel he needs to be brought down before he can ruin others. Who has ever stood up to Dumbledore to tell him he was wrong? Only Grindelwald and Voldemort, so clearly the man has never had any reason to doubt his actions. Although, I suppose Cornelius Fudge challenges him, but that man is such a moron, there is nothing he could say that Dumbledore would respect enough to change his ways,” Harry added.
“And if he did respect anything our dear Minister said, I think he would have found losing faith in him by now,” Rita agreed dryly. Harry gave her a small smile.
“Indeed,” he said. “I trust you can write this story without making it seem like you got all this information from one source?” Rita nodded and Harry continued, “I have alerted the goblins that you may be coming to confirm some information about Harry Potter. You should ask to speak to Griphook. He can confirm Harry Potter’s death and the fact that his vaults have been passed to another who they cannot reveal for privacy issues, of course. They can also confirm that I never visited my vaults before the age of eleven and when I did I was accompanied by Hagrid, not my magical guardian. I’m sure there are other interesting things you may be able to get out of Griphook for you story.”
“How very thoughtful of you,” Rita said, a malicious gleam already entering her eyes at the thought of dirtying the immaculate reputation of Dumbledore.
“Do you have any more questions?” Harry asked, to which Rita shook her head no. “Alright then. My last warning, Rita. This is a story about Harry Potter and his death, but the true purpose of this article is to highlight that Dumbledore has fallen a great distance from his once revered pedestal, though no one seems aware of it. You best make it very apparent that something is wrong with him. Do not fail me.”
Rita was once again fearful but her fear was tempered with excitement, now, at the thought of the forbidden information she had just gained access to.
“You have nothing to worry about, Harry,” she replied graciously. “I am good at what I do.”
“And don’t I know it,” Harry muttered. “I look forward to reading your article, for once.”
Rita bid them farewell, before leaving the room. Harry stared at the door absently until Blaise’s voice drew him from his thoughts; he’d almost forgotten his friend was there.
“I am a bit surprised at you, Harry,” Blaise said thoughtfully.
“And why is that?” Harry asked curiously.
“To have revealed so much of your life with your relatives… You have spent your whole life hiding who you truly were and the hardships you had endured. It is very unlike you to share such things with others, especially a vicious reporter,” Blaise commented.
“True,” Harry said slowly, “but Harry Potter is dead, Blaise. I am not that person any longer. And why should I hold my silence for the dead if it will profit what I need done now?”
Blaise just shook his head at his friend before they both left the private room to wander Hogsmeade.
***
Harry left Blaise at the Slytherin common room when they returned to the castle. He felt he should check on Hermione, see how she was faring with Ronald. They rarely saw each other and Harry had seen her leave Hogsmeade early without her boyfriend. He had been amused to see her enthusiastically chatting with a Ravenclaw male while Ron looked on in jealous anger. When Hermione had finished her conversation, Ron had demanded to know why she had been flirting. She had said that she wasn’t flirting but that she enjoyed intelligent conversation and rarely was gifted with an opportunity to engage in it. Ron had not been pleased.
A small smile found its way onto Harry’s face as he remembered the insulted expression on his former best friend’s face.
Harry was suddenly pulled from his memories in a most unpleasant way as he turned a corner. He froze for a moment at the scene in front of him before whipping back around the way he had come at inhuman speed.
He felt as though he had been winded and something hot was burning its way through his veins in a most unpleasant way, leaving his stomach leaping and his heart throbbing painfully. He knew he was feeling jealousy and betrayal. He was too late and it was going to eat him alive.
He doubted he would ever escape the image of Draco - his Draco, his mate – in the arms of another boy until the day he died.
***
Draco was not pleased. He knew it was only a matter of time before he was confronted by one of the other Death Eater children within the school. He had no idea whether this one was Marked or not, but it didn’t matter. They thought Draco was weak, because his family had fallen in status. They wanted to feel powerful while they ridiculed the fallen Malfoy.
It made Draco want to laugh in their face. Only now were they brave enough to confront him. But he was not an invalid.
This boy, whose name Draco could not be bothered to remember, had caught him unawares and dragged him into a more deserted part of the castle. The fact that he had been caught off guard grated on him, but there was no point in looking back.
He was currently pressed against the wall with one of the boy’s arms on each side of him, trapping him in. It was like a sick parody of an embrace.
For a moment, he felt the weird tingling in his heart that meant that Henry was near him, but then it was gone before he could even consider panicking at being caught in such a compromising position.
“Malfoy, what are we going to do with you?” the boy’s voice distracted him completely and he was once again very much aware that he was being unwillingly pushed against a wall. Instead of fighting back immediately, he relaxed his body completely and let his face become impassive. Annoyance was clearly displayed on the other boy’s face, thinking Draco didn’t take him seriously as a threat; which was actually true.
“You’ve been strutting around Hogwarts since you arrived,” the boy muttered, “but were always hiding behind your bodyguards and your father’s reputation. Never fighting your own battles yet always looking down on everyone else like they were the pathetic ones. I think it’s time you were taught your place.”
“Well, I hardly think plebians, such as yourself, matter,” Draco drawled, knowing the other boy would become infuriated. Anger leads to carelessness, Draco thought to himself as he watched the other boy’s face become red. “And really, you only have the courage to face me now because you think myself and my family have become too weak to defend ourselves. Yes, how tough you are.”
“Why you-,” the boy loosened his hold the slightest bit but that was all Draco needed to act. Draco’s captor had been stepping back to make more room for himself to move and Draco used his own momentum against him to push as hard as he could.
Caught off guard, the other boy fell back, unable to regain his balance before his back hit the wall on the other side of the corridor. Before he could react, Draco had his wand out and had cast Expelliarmus. He then leveled his wand at the other boy’s throat, who had now gone deadly still and was watching Draco with wide-eyes. It was almost disappointing how fast he lost his bravado.
“Well, well, what am I going to do with you?” Draco mocked as he smirked maliciously. The boy quickly gathered what must have been the remains of his courage and was opening his mouth angrily when Draco backhanded him, hard. “Do be silent,” he sneered and watched with some satisfaction when the slightest drop of blood appeared at the corner of the idiot’s mouth.
He was sure the other boy was shocked in a number of different ways. While it wasn’t unheard of for a pureblood to use physical force instead of magical, it definitely wasn’t common. In this case, it showed the boy that Draco did not even consider him worthy of magic; a true insult to a wizard, especially one of the Dark.
“Now, Braden,” Malfoy began, finally remembering the boy’s surname, “you’re in luck, because you’ve rather caught me off guard today. It would be terrible inconvenient to try to explain a body with my magical signature all over it. So you’ll just be getting a warning.”
Braden relaxed slightly before Draco hit him with a Body-Bind quickly followed by a Silencing Charm. He toppled to the floor and Draco levitated him into a room nearby so they would be out of sight. He let his prey drop to the ground for a moment, trying to decide what punishment to use.
The boy looked helpless and pathetic right now; like a muggle.
Draco smirked wickedly.
“Ligatus potentia,” Draco whispered. A soft glow surrounded Braden for a moment, a contradiction to the Dark magic Draco had just used. He flicked his wand again, causing the other spells he had used on his fellow student to begin to fall apart slowly instead of immediately.
He tossed Braden’s wand to him before turning around to walk out of the room. Before he could leave completely, he heard a slight movement and glanced over his shoulder to see Braden struggling to point his wand at Draco.
“You think you got the best of me?” Braden whispered harshly, still trying to break though the remains of the Silencing Charm.
“There’s not much thinking involved to understand that, Braden,” Draco drawled, continuing on his way out of the room.
"Stupefy.”
Draco didn’t even duck, he just laughed cruelly as he heard Braden begin to cast every curse he could think of with the same result. Absolutely nothing.
Draco had bound his magic, at least temporarily, but he wasn’t going to share that.
“I won’t be the last one, Malfoy,” he heard the boy snarl from inside the room. Draco was already beginning to turn the corner at the end of the hall.
“Then let the games begin,” Draco said under his breath with a cruel smirk.
***
Harry stalked into the library with a raging thundercloud surrounding him, or at least he felt like there must be one considering how volatile he felt at the moment.
He really hoped Hermione was in the library, because he was not in a mood to play hide-and-seek with her.
He found her in the back corner, just as he had the first time he spoke to her that year. She apparently sensed his approach and looked up at him before he was within twenty feet of her table. A smile started to spread on her face before she took in the expression on his face and her own expression quickly morphed to alarm and worry.
He roughly pulled out a chair and sat down, futilely trying to stop himself from running back to Draco and pulling the other boy from him. He had no right; Draco made his choice and he had to respect it.
“What has happened?” Hermione asked anxiously. “Are you alright?”
“I’m… not fine, but I am not injured, except perhaps my heart,” Harry said bitterly. Hermione raised an eyebrow at his response and he added, “I just saw my mate with… another. I need a distraction so I do not kill something.”
He knew he was failing miserably at containing himself. He felt his fangs were more prominent than usual and he was working extra hard not to nick his lip as he spoke. He was sure some red had bled into the green of his eyes as well.
“Do you, uhm, will- will blood help you calm down?” Hermione asked tentatively. Harry snapped his head up to look at her before he looked away and tried to think calming thoughts.
“Perhaps, but I am feeling rather out of control at the moment and would not wish to hurt you,” he ground out. To his surprise, Hermione let out a breathless little laugh.
“If you need blood, Harry, I can help with that,” Hermione said, suddenly seeming very confident about the whole thing.
“Did you not hear what I just said?” Harry asked incredulously. “I could hurt you!”
“And the fact that you are worried about such a thing leads me to think that I am actually perfectly safe,” Hermione smiled.
“And how did you come to such a conclusion?” Harry demanded.
“If you were going to harm me, I think you would have leapt at me the moment I mentioned blood,” Hermione said ruefully. “Also, although you may not be the Harry Potter I once knew, enough of him is still in you that I would trust you with my life, even as you are draining it out of me. I cannot believe that you would hurt me, no matter how volatile you are feeling.”
Harry just stared at her for a moment before grudgingly agreeing that she was right. He motioned for her to come to him and he grabbed her hand to pull her into his lap once she was in front of him. He soothingly ran a hand through her hair before trailing his fingers down her neck, eliciting a shiver from his friend.
“Are you sure about this?” Harry murmured.
“I trust you, Harry,” Hermione whispered. “And you can count on me for anything. Always.”
Harry laid a gentle kiss on her pulse before sinking his fangs into it. Hermione gasped before she let out a breathy little moan. She probably had the purest blood Harry had ever tasted. It was very refreshing and Harry could feel himself calming immediately from it. He drew away from her slightly after a few moments and licked her wounds closed.
Hermione was breathing a bit heavier than normal but appeared unharmed. Harry raised his head and froze when he realized they were being watched. Though he quickly scowled when he realized it was only Blaise watching them with his arms crossed and an irritated look on his face.
“I came looking for you,” Blaise explained unnecessarily as he pushed off the book shelf he had been leaning against to come toward them, “to tell you that you have a letter, but perhaps I should have been here earlier to remind you of discretion.”
“It would have been fine,” Harry said dismissively. Hermione’s face had gone red with embarrassment and she was subtly trying to move from Harry’s lap, but Harry only tightened his grip on her. There was nothing for her to be embarrassed about.
“Anyone could have found you back here like this!” Blaise hissed angrily.
“Anyone else would have made some noise of surprise to alert me to their presence or assumed we were doing what hormonal teenagers are prone to do,” Harry countered. “Had the first happened, I could have easily taken care of it, and the second, as we’ve learned from experience, isn’t anything to be concerned about. I needed this, though.”
Blaise clearly wanted to argue further but instead he gave his friend a good look. There were only slight signs to hint at the distress that Harry was feeling now that he had taken blood to calm himself.
“What is wrong?” Blaise asked, with more concern now.
“I saw Draco with another,” Harry pursued his lips tightly, as if that could stop the stream of colorful language that he actually wanted to be spewing. Blaise expression became confused.
“You saw Malfoy- are you sure?” Blaise questioned.
“I know what I saw,” Harry said angrily, annoyed that his friend was questioning him on such things.
“I’m sure you do,” Blaise said soothingly, “it’s just… It would be very unlike Draco to do anything, with anyone, in a place where you could stumble upon him. No matter what.”
“A boy had him against a wall, Blaise, with his arms around him, what would you think?” Harry growled.
“Are you sure it was a romantic gesture,” Blaise asked carefully, “and not a violent one? You know his standing within the Dark circles is not high any longer.”
The suggestion made all his vampire instincts scream at him to check on his mate. What if he had misinterpreted? Was his mate okay? Was he being abused?
Before he could sprint off in Draco’s direction, Blaise put his hand on his arm to gain his attention.
“If your bond is indeed as strong as it already appears to be, you will be able to tell if he is injured or not, correct?”
It was a subtle way for Blaise to tell him to calm the fuck down and start thinking instead of just acting. He took a moment to calm his inner turmoil and concentrate.
He found a little ball of emotion within himself that was not his own that he could barely feel; he had to assume that it was Draco. As far as he could tell, his mate was fine, but that didn’t really calm him. Either he had handled his attacker well, or he was in fact with the other boy in a romantic sense. Harry desperately tried to convince himself it was the former.
“Let’s go check on him,” Hermione said quietly, still in his lap, but no longer embarrassed. She pulled the hand he had wrapped around her away from her body to get up and then used the connection to bring him to his feet.
He gave her a strained nod before he led them to where he had seen Draco.
There was no one there, but Harry did catch the faintest scent of blood on the air and a lingering hint of fear. And the blood did not smell of Draco.
Harry let out a reflexive sigh of relief, “They aren’t here, and I do not believe it was a romantic encounter, considering the trace of blood I smell. It doesn’t belong to Draco.”
“That is good,” Blaise murmured. “Give your mate some credit, Harry. He can take care of himself. But perhaps you should go find him to reassure yourself?”
“Later,” Harry said, though his instincts still were not completely satisfied. He knew, rationally at least, that what Blaise said was true, and Draco was more than capable of taking care of himself; their past history was proof of that, “I’ll walk Hermione back to Gryffindor first.”
He offered his arm to his friend with a smile to which she rolled her eyes before accepting. Blaise followed them, as well, and Harry watched him interact with his first best friend.
Blaise had always kept himself apart from his peers, never wanting to risk exposing his family’s connections to the vampires if he let someone get too close. But Hermione already knew of them, and Harry saw Blaise opening up to her in a way that he hadn’t seen him do with any other woman at Hogwarts. He smirked as he watched them.
Maybe he wouldn’t be the only one to find someone this year.
Harry was jarred from his thoughts of matchmaking when Hermione tugged on his arm, signaling him to stop in the shadows near the entrance to the Gryffindor tower. He turned to her questioningly, but she only shook her head before indicating that he should watch the entrance.
He turned back to see Neville Longbottom pacing in front of the portrait, seeming to be arguing with himself over something. Harry barely had time to think about it before the boy turned to walk off in a different direction away from the tower.
When they were sure he was gone, Hermione explained quietly, “He’s been acting strange for the past week. Always disappearing at odd times and keeping to himself. No one else has noticed, because no one else really notices Neville to begin with. I tried to keep in contact with him, especially after the fiasco at the Ministry, but he’s always taking off somewhere. I don’t know what’s going on.”
Harry bit his lip slightly, a habit he had thought he’d broken, wondering if his concerns at the beginning of the year were worth voicing.
“Keep an eye on him, Hermione, if you could,” Harry said eventually. “I think it has something to do with Dumbledore, but perhaps I’m overly jaded when it comes to suspicious things occurring within Hogwarts.”
“You have your reasons,” Hermione said, squeezing his arm gently in support, “but why would you think this is about Dumbledore?”
“I wasn’t the only boy that damn prophesy could have been talking about,” Harry said pointedly, “and I died. Sort of defeats the title ‘Boy-Who-Lived’, don’t you think?”
Hermione’s expression was worried, but she said, “Surely Dumbledore wouldn’t just throw the next candidate out there? Neville doesn’t fulfill all the requirements!”
Harry just gave her a flat stare until she scowled at him and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “old bastard”.
“Just watch him,” Harry repeated. “I’ll see you later, Hermione, goodnight.”
“You two hurry back,” Hermione warned, “it’s almost curfew.”
Harry rolled his eyes at Blaise as they walked away. Honestly, some things never changed.
***
Harry and Blaise were close to the common room when Harry picked up the distinct scent of his mate coming from somewhere deeper within the maze that made up the Hogwarts dungeons. He explained to Blaise what was going on before heading toward the smell.
In a shadowy alcove, Harry found Draco curled up on a bench, with his eyes closed and his head back against the wall behind him. Harry knew he wasn’t asleep, but his face was relaxed in a semblance of sleep that let Harry see just how beautiful Draco was when he let his guard down. He quickly scanned his eyes over his mate, making sure he didn’t see any signs that could indicate that he had been injured earlier. He let out a silent sigh of relief when he detected nothing.
As if hearing him, though, Draco’s eyes snapped open and to him before the tension that had quickly travelled through his body was released.
Before Harry could say anything, Draco’s eyes went back to the ceiling and he asked, “Do you know what it’s like to be judged because of who you are instead of who you are?”
Harry immediately thought of his human life; it had been nothing but judgment without anyone getting to know who he really was.
“Yes, I know quite well,” Harry responded quietly, moving closer to the other boy.
“How do you shatter the image people believe of you if they won’t take the time to look?” Draco asked, still gazing at the ceiling. His expression turned angry for a moment before he murmured, “I am not my father. I would not make his choices.”
“You do not agree with your father?” Harry asked carefully, hoping to learn more about his mate’s beliefs.
“Would you agree with your father if he supported a-,” Draco cut himself off abruptly and scowled at Harry, as if he had made Draco reveal something he didn’t want to. “No, I do not. I do not believe the same things he does and his poor judgment is now a threat to me. So no, I am not in support of my father.”
“A threat to you?” Harry asked, immediately wanting to check Draco to make sure he was okay, again.
“Yes,” Draco said, eyeing Harry as if debating what to say. “The Malfoy name is not as untouchable in certain circles as it once was. Some would like to make sure I know it. But they forget I am my own person and I am more than capable of protecting myself.”
“Were you threatened today?” Harry almost growled. Draco gave him a slightly taken aback by the fierceness in his voice.
“I took care of it,” Draco responded nonchalantly, not really giving Harry any of the details he so desperately wanted.
“Was it the boy you were with earlier today?” Harry asked before he could stop himself; he had to know.
“What are you talking about?” Draco asked stiffly.
“I saw you with a boy earlier today. I assumed you were… involved because he had his arms around you and you were pressed against the wall,” Harry admitted, needing to know if this person had hurt his mate.
Draco sneered, “Involved? No, most certainly not. And I took care of him.”
“Did he hurt you?” Harry asked fiercely.
Draco was clearly startled at the amount of anger Harry was showing in regards to the possibility of him being injured but he only said, “No, he never even got the chance.”
“Good,” Harry said darkly. He smirked a bit before adding, “May I ask what you did to him?”
“Bound his magic,” Draco said with a lazy smile. “It’ll wear off eventually, but I didn’t tell him that.”
Harry laughed, and was about to respond when he heard a noise further down the hall that had him standing up quickly.
“Filch is coming this way, it’s after curfew,” Harry said quietly. “We need to go.”
Draco shot an alarmed look down the hallway before standing and following Harry back toward Slytherin. They didn’t get too far before Harry’s keen hearing caught the sound of footsteps coming toward them as well. He saw a tapestry up ahead that he knew concealed a small alcove and without thinking he grabbed Draco’s hand and pulled him quickly down the hall and behind the tapestry.
Draco let out a little sound of protest as Harry pushed him into the corner but Harry quickly put a hand over his mouth to block the noise before going completely still. He didn’t want to expose that he was a vampire but he knew some of his natural vampire abilities would be useful at the moment. He concentrated on making the shadows around the two of them more opaque while angling his head over Draco’s shoulder so the blonde couldn’t accidentally catch sight of his now-red eyes.
The footsteps were getting louder and Harry turned his head the slightest bit to the right to see if he could catch sight of the owner of the other footsteps. He caught sight of black robes and the scent of his human father and stiffened marginally before forcing himself to relax again. He heard Snape and Filch greet each other briefly before parting.
Once Harry could no longer hear either man, he let his body relax and released the magic he was using. Then he became aware of the situation he was in and his body filled with a different type of tension.
When Harry had grabbed Draco, he had unwittingly pressed the other boy against the wall with his own body in an attempt to squeeze into the small space. Now, the fronts of their bodies were melded together from their chests down to their entwined legs. His hand was still over Draco’s mouth so he could feel the other’s breath ghosting across his skin while Harry’s head was bent over Draco’s shoulder, allowing their cheeks to brush slightly.
Immediately, Harry was having a battle of wills with his erection that would be immediately noticed by Draco. It was even harder to control because he could feel Draco’s feelings of arousal as if it were his own from touching the other boy’s skin.
He slowly drew his head back so that he could see his mate’s face. He was losing control over his instincts quickly. His mate was so close. His mate was aroused, because of him. If he but leaned in a mere few inches, their lips would touch and he could taste his mate’s mouth.
His mate’s eyes were dilated into black pools of desire. His lips were slightly parted and his breathing was coming in small gasps of air.
He began to lean forward toward his mate unconsciously; he had to taste him. His whole world focused down onto those perfect lips. They were so close to touching, that Harry imagined he could feel phantom lips on his own.
Who could have ever predicted that Harry Potter would want to be with Draco Malfoy? Harry thought absently.
With that thought though, instead of feeling ironic amusement, it caused Harry to quickly turn his head to the side at the last moment before pulling away a little bit, as if checking for sounds of footsteps.
“I think they’re gone,” Harry commented hoarsely, while turning back to look at Draco. His heart clenched when he saw the hurt and disappointment on his mate’s face before he was able to hide away his emotions until he was even more distant than he had been at the beginning of the year.
“Then we should return to the common room before anyone else comes along,” Draco said coldly before walking past Harry.
It hurt, knowing his mate was upset, especially when it was his fault. But he knew he had made the right choice. Draco didn’t know him yet. He knew Henry Renard, but he didn’t know that he used to be Harry Potter or that he was a vampire.
If he pursued a relationship with Draco before coming clean, he was afraid Draco would see it as a betrayal and a lie. Perhaps he would think it was Harry’s way of getting revenge on him. While most vampires didn’t have to worry about who they were as humans when courting their mate, Harry knew he did. There was too much history between Draco and himself for his mate to just accept his past and move on immediately.
He wasn’t sure how he was going to tell his mate, but he needed to. Soon. They were both feeling the pull toward one another and it was only getting stronger.
With a sigh, Harry followed his mate back to their dorms, fully expecting to stay awake all night while he agonized over how to tell Draco Malfoy that he was a vampire, that they were mates, and that he had been Harry Potter only a few months earlier.
He was terrified.

Ligatus potentia roughly means bound power in Latin.
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