Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

BITE:me	By : CallMeJellybean Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Het - Male/Female Views: 2804 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter Series or its characters. I make no money off of this.

Chapter List
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A/N: Don't forget, my writing style three years ago was all about getting to the action. When I went back to edit it, I think I managed to make it seem ok, but honestly this story will move VERY quickly for the next few chapters. Just keep that in mind.

Return to Hogwarts:

If one were seen on platform 9 3/4 that year, and one happened to walk past Harry Potter that year, the only way you would have been able to recognize the young man would be by his infamous scar, which was visible below his fauxhawked hair. The numerous piercings on his ears and the offset one on his lower lip glinted in the light, contrasting against the dark crimson shirt he wore, which might as well not have been a shirt at all. It covered him all right, but was so tight fitting that every muscle was outlined in the sheer fabric. His black pants bagged low around his hips and bunched up before being tucked loosely into tightly laced up combat boots that clunked powerfully with every step he took. His trench coat billowed out around him as he walked, with his broad shoulders casting shadows over cowering first years.

He saw a little girl, no more than six or seven, tremble and hide behind her mother when she saw him. He grinned at her and squatted down to her eye level. The mother cast worried eyes down at him. Harry looked deep into the little girl's eyes and she emerged from behind her mother. Disregarding the heeding words of her mother, the little girl reached a hand out and placed her tiny fingers on his scar.

"He's hurt, Mommy..." she said.

"Trelissa!" Her mother scolded.

"No, Mommy... he's hurt inside..." She clarified, as if that changed everything. Harry's smile faded a bit under the young one's scrutiny. Trelissa smiled however, and leaned in to him to whisper conspiratorially, "But don't worry, he's going to get better... I can feel it."

Harry stood up and smiled once more at the girl who stood back against her mother's coat again. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Potter," the mother apologized. Harry chuckled softly and gave her a sincere look. The kind of look he hadn't given anyone all summer.

"No, don't be sorry." Harry paused, trying to find the right words. The little girl had made him smile for the first time in a long time, if only for a little while. What could he say to that? Harry gave up searching for the right thing to say and only replied, "Thank you," in the most sincere way he could muster before shuffling off to the train.

Harry stared out the window at the platform and all the people. The families kissing their children goodbye, the crying mothers, the frightened first years, the excited returning students... They were all so happy, and they were all counting on him. Counting on him to defeat the Dark Lord that they all denied was back anyway. Was he to get any support? No, they all believed he killed Cedric... Couldn't have been more ironic, really. He watched the one person he opened himself up to enough to love die and they assume that he killed him. Go figure...

Harry felt like crying, but he had no more tears left. He opened the window and lit a fag, taking a long drag from it. Cedric... love... life... death... what was it all anymore? What did anything mean when you were just a weapon that could only be used once and for one purpose? Unable to find an answer all summer, Harry didn't try now. Instead, he finished his fag, and lay down on the bench, closing his eyes and blasting muggle music through his charmed player.

...

"So what's it like, Draco?" Blaise asked interestedly.

"What's what like?"

"Being a vampire!"

Draco sighed with boredom. "It's not like anything. It's like nothing." he said plaintively.

"Oh come on, don't be stingy. Tell me, what's it like drinking blood?"

"It's like eating is for you," Draco said, trying to keep his voice steady and his temper low as he got more and more fed up with Blaise.

"Can you fly yet?"

"You've seen my broom."

"No, I mean with your wings.. Can you fly with those?"

"A little."

"Is it fun?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"It's difficult."

"Why?"

"Because it is!"

"Come on, Draco, I'm just trying to figure out what it's like being a vampire!"

That was it, Draco lost his temper and swooped down over Blaise. His hands were positioned on either side of the Italian's head, his fangs bared and gleaming in the fluorescent light of the compartment.

"You really wanna know? I'll tell you." Draco snarled. "It's being dead, inside and out. And the only thing that lets you know you can still feel is the burning in your throat, the ever present lust for blood that keeps you alive. The urge to rip out the throat of every last mortal within a twenty mile radius that you have to fight constantly is always there. It's what tells you you're not a human anymore, but you're not dead either. You're just some in between freak."

Blaise quivered, frightened tears slipping from his eyes under Draco's intense presence. Draco pushed off the back of the seat, turning his back to Blaise and tried to regain his temper.

"I'm sorry.." the whisper was barely audible, but Draco's heightened senses heard it clear as day.

"So am I." Draco responded and left the compartment. Blaise wondered whether he was sorry for losing his temper or that now he wasn't the same Draco Malfoy he had always been.

Draco made his way to the last car on the train and let himself out into the crisp fall air. He stood on the small platform and rested his elbows on the rail. The wind blowing past whipped his cheeks, but he didn't feel it. He looked down at his hands, his long slender fingers covered in alabaster skin. Flawless, cold flesh, going all the way up his arms and continuing all over his body. That's how it always would be from then on.

When certain people get depressed, to the point where all feeling is moot and they are lost in a sea of despair... they start cutting. Whether it's to feel the rush, to feel alive, to bleed out the pain, or bleed out of themselves, they flock to their blades and sharp objects as if it's a morphine drip. Draco looked down at his forearms... not a scratch on them. Standing there, in the knowledge of what he was now, what he had left behind and all that lay before him, Draco wished more than anything that he could bleed out of himself.

Lost in the ocean of his thoughts, Draco didn't notice the door behind him opening, and a tall figure coming to stand next to him.

"It's beautiful out here, isn't it?" the voice, low and sweet, cut through the darkness of Draco's thoughts and made him jump. He whirled around quickly, just a blur to the human eye and was met with the sight of the one and only Harry Potter.

"Potter?" Draco breathed in disbelief.

"It's funny how, no matter how badly you treat mother nature, it never thinks it's worthless.. it never hurts itself... it just keeps going, as if it's untouched." Harry said, as if he hadn't heard Draco.

"What do you want, Potter?" Draco murmured, too rundown to be aggressive, too beaten to care.

"It's funny how things work out, isn't it?" Harry continued, seemingly ignoring Draco. "You start your life going one way, just walking down the road, thinking that everything is normal.. Little did you know that those few extra seconds you spent that morning doing something you don't normally do have slowed you down... You're not in the place you would've been anymore... and now, you're walking down the road a few seconds late, not as early as usual, not as early as you would have been when you would have missed getting struck by lightning."

Draco eyed Harry wearily as the dark man continued. "The night Voldemort came to my house, my parents had just got back from spending time at Lupin's house..."

"Professor Lupin?"

"Yeah... they called for a taxi, since they were living in a muggle village and didn't want Voldemort to find out where they were hiding. They wanted to protect me... Knowing that the taxi would take time for them to get home, they decided to leave Lupin's early." Harry paused again, Draco could see it was difficult for him to go on.

"Their taxi ride allowed them to get home 20 minutes early... If they had just decided to apparate, they would have arrived at the right time, they would have found something amiss around the house. My dad would have gone in and told Lily to wait.. He would have found Voldemort or the death eaters and yelled to Lily...yelled to my mom... If they had been their usual 20 minutes late that night, my mom could have apparated out of there. I could still have my parents if it weren't for them calling an early taxi." Harry's voice broke off.

Draco couldn't understand how Harry knew all this, or why he would share something like this with him.

"Funny how things work out..." Harry repeated.

"Why are you telling me this, Potter?" Draco muttered.

"I had one more smoke than usual this morning so now, I'm out. I stepped out for a bit of fresh air because my nicotine deprived self couldn't stand to be in that tiny cabin. If i hadn't used up that smoke this morning, i wouldn't have come out to this metal sort of balcony and then... I wouldn't have seen you."

Harry finally looked at Draco, staring into his eyes. "You and I were meant to be here, at the same time, right now.. right here."

"I don't understand your point, Potter." Draco said.

"It's not to understand. It's to accept. You think it's coincidence that two arch enemies found each other in the same spot at the same time? What ever it is... I can say now, I did something that i wouldn't normally have done. Which means now, my entire life has probably been changed.. And you're responsible." Harry gave Draco a funny smile, Draco was almost offended.

The blond Slytherin wanted to punch something, yell at him, tell him how wrong he was. Draco wasn't responsible for anything but himself... But before Draco could say that... Harry was gone.

hr

Draco sat at the welcoming feast, death glaring at Potter from across the room. Every other normal human in the room seemed to notice the anger and raw fury rolling off of him. The magic in the air snapped and crackled around him as Draco lost more and more of his control, becoming more and more focused on Potter. There was something about him, something different that Draco just couldn't seem to put his finger on. Draco eyed the Gryffindor carefully, taking note of how he didn't seem to eat. That was just too odd, especially for Potter. He seemed to be insatiable when it came to his meals, but there he sat plain as day, pushing his food around his plate, not actually eating at all. He kept intense conversation going, as if he were trying to make sure no one noticed that he hadn't even touched anything.

"Draco," Pansy murmured, placing a hand on his arm. "Are you alright?" she asked hesitantly.

"I'm fine," he replied offhandedly.

"Did you talk to Dumbledore about the whole… vampire thing?" she asked hesitantly, wondering if perhaps that was what had him so preoccupied.

"Are you insane?" Draco hissed, finally giving her his attention. "No one can know! If Dumbledore finds out before Voldemort it'll be the devil to pay. I don't even want the Dark Lord to find out. There's no telling what he would do to me. The only reason you and Blaise know is because I have to control my bloodlust, one donor isn't going to do it for me this early on."

Pansy nodded in acceptance at this. "When was the last time you fed?" she asked, sounding ridiculously like a mother hen. Draco almost smiled at it.

"I'm fine, Pansy."

"Come find me after dinner," she said insistently. Draco nodded absently and went back to his previous activity of Potter-watching. There was still something eerie about the entire situation. The meeting on the train, his strange words, his changed appearance… it was all just too different. There was something new about Potter and Draco had to find out what it was. Draco scowled intensely at the entire situation. No one fooled a Malfoy, no one. It simply wasn't done. It practically went against every scientific and magical law in the entire universe. It was just impossible. You didn't pull one over on any member of the Malfoy family, and yet there was Potter, doing just that. Suddenly furious at Potter's ability to trick him, Draco pushed away from the Slytherin table.

"I'm going out to fly for a bit," he winked at Pansy and swept off, robes billowing behind him–Snape would have been proud.

Pansy's eyes were not the only ones that followed the blond out of the Great Hall.

Draco stood in the middle of the quidditch pitch looking up at the black night sky illuminated by the numerous stars that shone down on him. They glinted upon his white flawless marble skin. Draco shed his robes and removed his white collared shirt, placing them on the ground in a heap that would have given his mother a cataract. He stretched languidly, pushing his arms up over his head and then out to his sides. As he rolled his shoulders and arched his back, he let his wings stretch out. He had become increasingly skilled at releasing and contracting them over the summer. When he wasn't using them or didn't want them to be seen, they magicked themselves into his skin, coming out to look like a tattoo to the mortal eye. Draco crouched low to the ground, gripping the cool, damp grass between his fingers and taking a deep breath-(which he lamented, there was really no need for). He felt a breeze below his wingtips and vaulted off the ground with force only a vampire could muster. He sprung into the sky and let his white body streak across the black sky among the stars.

From the shadows, someone watched this display of power. She eyed him with nothing short of awe as she saw him twist and turn his body gracefully through spins and flips high off the ground. She didn't know why she felt compelled to watch him now, or why she had followed him out to the quidditch pitch. She didn't know for sure why she suddenly felt so strangely about the one and only Draco Malfoy, but as she continued to spy on the flying creature, she began to get a pretty good idea.

Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin Prince, was flying. He was soaring through the skies without the aid of a broom or any other sort of magic. He was using those wings, those beautiful wings. The figure looked on in wonder at his new accessory. They stemmed from his back like a fountain, glistening white and pure. They extended at least six or seven feet from one end to the other, if not longer and they towered almost 3 feet above his head. They were not feathered, nor scaly, but rather seemed to be made of some weightless material. The figure longed to reach out and touch them, to press her body against the cool skin of the young vampire and let herself be encased safely inside those wings.

She knew that this could only mean one thing. If Draco was a vampire, and she knew he was, and if she was feeling the way that she could not deny she felt… there was only one explanation. This figure, the one in the shadows, fearful and amazed, was Draco Malfoy's mate. She shivered at the thought, both wonderful and terrible, she felt as though she could cry. She wanted to run back to her room and bury her face in her pillow and stay there for as long as she lived, but she knew she couldn't do that.

Before she knew it, Draco was touching down to the grass again, landing with excellent poise. He stood there, not breathing heavily nor sweating. But his stance held something different. Something more animalistic and powerful, and yet too tired to be restrained at the same time. Her heart sped up at the appreciated view of his chest and her hand flew to her chest as if to stifle the sound, but she knew it was useless. It was too late. He had already heard it. Draco's eyes smoldered, completely black all of a sudden and though any sane person would have been afraid, the girl was not frightened- but entranced.

Draco touched down onto the ground softly. He felt drained, his energy ebbing away. That is, the energy he had been using to control his hunger. He was not weakened in every way, he felt just as strong as he had before. Now however, he had no control.

He smelled her before he had even touched down. She smelled glorious, better than any donor he had encountered. Her pulse was getting faster, calling to him with every beat, growing more and more urgent. He heard that spectacular blood flow faster through the very veins he longed to sink his teeth into and his eyes, dark with bloodlust, whipped around to lock onto where it was coming from. He could distinctly see a figure in the shadows, but he didn't much care who it was. They smelled spectacular.

The girl, as she stood in the shadows, felt a chill shoot up her spine when she met the vampire's gaze. It burned with hunger and was both horrifying and alluring. Her mind screamed for her to run, to run fast and hard all the way back to her safe bed, but her body did not move. He approached her, slowly and predatorily. Her heart felt as though it might pump itself out of her chest, but it stayed where it was, and so did she. She was frozen, unable to bring herself to move away, to rip her gaze from the beautiful creature before her.

Before either of them knew it, he had closed the distance between them. He towered over her, his wings casting their faces into darkness. Draco dragged the miraculous scent into his lungs, into his body and felt his incisors lengthen. He reached out a hand, looking deep into the eyes of the girl he now stood before. His mind was trying to tell him something about this girl, about her name and who she was, but the animal in him didn't care. It didn't matter. He reached out a hand and placed it on her hip. She did not jerk away, she did not tremble; she simply held his gaze.

"You smell so… good." He said quietly, leaning his head down to nuzzle her neck. She knew what was going on, she knew why his eyes looked so black, she knew why he was acting like this and she knew most of all, that there was no going back to the way things were. She had passed the point of no return. She tilted her head to the side, exposing her neck, allowing him room–an awful temptation for him. As she pressed her body against his, Draco could not stifle the moan that escaped from his lips. He wanted so badly to drink from her, but at the same time, something kept him from just taking it.

"Please," he whimpered against her jugular as he nuzzled the soft flesh with his nose.

"Drink," she told him and almost immediately she felt the searing pain of his fangs burrowing into her neck. She cried out, but was relieved as the pain turned instantly to pleasure. Fire coursed through her veins as his mouth locked onto her and she succumbed to his whims. She clutched at his robes desperately to ground herself, throwing her leg around his hip to bring them that much closer.

Draco felt some floodgate in him open, some dam cracked, split down the middle and the vampire within him roared with happiness as her blood reached his lips. He drank with a fierce need, driven on and fueled by desire. Lost in the sensation he reveled in the sensation of her blood in his mouth. Hot and sweet, he could not stop his hips from pressing forward into hers. She moaned, the sound causing his arousal to grow and he sucked harder, unsatisfied.

She had never felt something so intense; it was beyond everything and anything she could have imagined. It felt so good, too good, she felt as though she might burn herself from the inside out with her need, as though she would burst into flames of desire. She moaned and writhed against him, too lost in his touch to really care about who he was and what he was and what he was doing to her. It was the best thing she had ever felt.

Draco wanted more, but a little voice in the back of his mind, part of his vampire seemed to say it was enough. Something was telling him to pull back and he had to obey. Reluctantly, he pulled his fangs from her flesh and licked across the wound, healing it. The girl in his arms whimpered at the loss and he crushed her body to his.

"Do I have the honor of learning the name of such a delicious young woman?" Draco purred against her neck. He could sense her hesitation and his grip on her tightened. "I need to know… you have no idea what you mean to me yet."

The girl seemed to relax and she brought her hand to his cool cheek. She brought his face away from her neck to make his eyes meet hers. Shocking blue met honey brown and Draco gasped.

"Impossible." Draco breathed.

"I'm sorry." She said instinctively, close to tears at the thought that perhaps, he would not want her. Something inside her was glad at that, but the rest of her denied it. She wanted him and she wanted him badly; she had to admit that to herself.

"Please, don't cry." Draco said, brushing his finger along her cheekbone as he watched her eyes well up with tears.

"I… I…" she didn't know what to say or what to do. Draco let his grip on her loosen and let her out of his arms. She was colder without him, even though the air was warmer than his skin. She crossed her arms across her stomach self consciously.

"But… but..." Draco sounded so confused. "But you tasted so good…"

She couldn't help it, she started to cry. It was just too much to take, being rejected by the one person she had never wanted in the first place. The one person she was willing to accept simply because she knew she had to. "I'm sorry." She said, the hurt evident in her voice. "I guess I couldn't have expected you to accept a mudblood." And with that, she finally got control of her legs and started to run away.

Draco stood there, wondering if he should follow as he watched the receding form of the girl he had just drunk from. He watched her go in confusion, anger and a twinge of sadness, for it was true that the person he had just held in his arms, whose blood smelled sweeter than anything imaginable, was none other than Hermione Granger.
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