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Harry Potter walks into potions with only a second to spare before the start of class. The doors slam closed behind him as he walks between the tables, looking for an open seat.
Figures, the only seat is next to Draco Malfoy.
Not that Harry hates it exactly, it’s just awkward. Since the end of the war, Harry has laid his rivalry with Malfoy to rest. Harry even testified for him at the trials, citing the time he didn’t confirm his identity at the manor and when he threw Harry his wand at the Final Battle. He was ruled as a child under duress, only suffering a few months of magical probation, which Harry agreed with. He was allowed to return to Hogwarts for his eighth year with McGonagall’s permission and monthly reports on his behavior.
So Harry doesn’t really hate it, he just doesn’t know how to act around him. Since the beginning of the year they haven’t interacted much, though Harry thinks that’s only because Malfoy actively avoids him.
Malfoy glances up at Harry as he walks towards the open seat, face unreadable.
Maybe I should try to be nice to him , Harry thinks as he sits down next to him. Except as soon as Harry sits down, Malfoy flinches and covers his mouth and nose with his hand, turning his head away, face pulled in a grimace.
..Is he sick? He looked fine when Harry walked in, though. He doesn’t have much time to dwell on it as class begins, and he gets distracted by the torture that is potions. Eventually it’s time to make the potion, with Malfoy as his partner. It starts off fine, if a little awkward. All stilted questions and one word answers, but they are making the potion fine.
Until Harry leans in to see the potion as Malfoy stirs, causing Malfoy to jerk away, bringing his hand to his nose again, nearly ruining the delicate potion.
“Potter, you idiot, stop hovering!” Malfoy barks through the hand on his face.
“Sorry,” Harry said, though he doesn’t think he was very close at all. Harry keeps his distance until their potion is done perfectly, mostly thanks to Malfoy.
A blast startles the room, and Harry looks over to see a pair of seventh-year Gryffindors in the back had exploded their potion all over themselves. A green cloud of gas fills the air above the two as Slughorn rushes over to scourgify them clean. He spells in a gust of air to blow out the gas, whipping from the window behind Harry directly into Malfoy’s space. Harry watches as Malfoy doubles over, covering his nose again with a groan and glaring daggers at Harry.
Do.. do i stink? Harry wonders to himself, trying to inconspicuously sniff his robes. It would explain why Malfoy has looked like he wants to barf every time Harry gets close.
Harry can’t smell anything, and Malfoy takes that moment to grab his bag and the vial and rush up to place it on Slughorn’s desk. He then walks directly out of the room right before Slughorn dismisses the class, not sparing a glance at Harry.
Maybe something is going on, Harry thinks, grabbing his books and heading to meet with Hermione and Ron for lunch. The rest of the day passes uneventfully, Malfoy-free, so Harry soon forgets all about it.
Harry doesn’t think about that potions class again until a few days later. Since Hogwarts was damaged in the war, reconstruction has been ongoing. Most of the main areas were repaired before the school-year started, but some lesser-traveled areas were still under repair.
This meant that the majority of the dungeons are half-unrecognizable. They had fixed the Slytherin dormitories first, thankfully, but none of the classrooms had been fixed yet, mostly being used as temporary storage.
Harry is currently on an errand to grab some supplies for Madame Pomfrey from one of those rooms, carefully stepping through the wreckage in the warded off hallway, when a young voice calls out, “Hey! Why is a Gryffindor down here? What are you doing?”
Harry turns around to see a third-year Slytherin pompously walking towards him. The boy ignores the wards and steps carelessly into the danger zone.
“Wait! Be careful!-” but before Harry can warn him, the kid steps on a weak, cracked spot on the ground. Harry tries to run to catch him, but the kid jumps back only a moment before the floor falls out from under where he had been. The hallway quakes as rubble continues to fall, and that’s when Harry sees the crack splitting up the wall. Before he can even pull out his wand a deafening crack sounds as the wall begins to fall straight towards the boy.
It’s so fast, Harry can’t do a thing but watch the stones fall, when suddenly a blur appears and then Malfoy is there, wrapping the boy protectively in his arm, hand splayed out towards the oncoming rubble. He only sees it for a split second, then the stones cover the two, and Harry can only see a cloud of dust.
He runs towards the place they were, fearing the worst, and casts a stasis charm so nothing else collapses while he searches for them. The dust fills Harry’s eyes and lungs, but he continues to them, coughing and eyes watering. He hears a cough from behind a large piece of wall, and finds them huddled on the ground, surrounded by stones. They are covered in dust and Malfoy’s robe is ripped up in the back and on one sleeve, but they don’t appear to be injured. No blood or bruises, though the third-year starts to cry.
“Merlin, are you two okay? What happened?” Harry asks, then casts a quick patronus to summon Madame Pomfrey.
Malfoy seems to hesitate for a moment before answering, “I was walking in the hallway when I heard the collapse, and made it just in time to cast a shield spell over us.”
Something about that seems a bit odd, but Harry doesn’t focus on it, instead he tries to calm the sobbing third-year.
“I-I’m so s-sorry! I d-didn’t know it was you! I thought you were someone up to no good!” The boy cries, wiping at his face with his sleeve.
Then Madame Pomfrey arrives with Headmistress McGonagall, and the moment is over as the two are ushered to the medical wing, Harry still on his quest for the supplies.
It isn’t until that night he realizes Malfoy hadn’t ever been holding his wand. And Harry swears he saw Malfoy stick his hand up to shield them, so wouldn’t he have gotten hurt? Not only that, but if he had used a shield charm, then there should have been an area around them that the rubble didn’t fall into. And why would Malfoy’s robe have been ripped if he cast a shield? It just didn’t add up, and Harry thought back to that potions class, the only other time he had really interacted with Malfoy.
Actually, Harry realizes that he rarely sees Malfoy at all. Harry can’t think of a single time he saw Malfoy outside the castle, except one rainy day he saw him moping alone at the lake in the rain when Harry went to visit Hagrid. He never goes out flying on his broom, or to any of the quidditch matches.
Malfoy doesn’t eat any meals at the Slytherin table, either, though Harry had always just assumed that’s because none of his Slytherin friends returned to Hogwarts after the war.
He also doesn’t hang out in the eighth-year common room, but considering the eighth-years are almost all Harry’s friends he never thought it too strange.
Malfoy also got the only room with its own bathroom, so he doesn’t have to ever come out if he doesn’t want to. Though if Harry had had the Dark Mark he wouldn’t want to share a shower either.
The most glaring difference, though, is how much paler and thinner he’s gotten this year. Malfoy has always been fair, but this year he nearly glows white, the circles under his eyes prominent against his face.
All of these things together are suspicious, but when Harry brings it up at lunch, no one seems to be all that worried.
“Harry, it just sounds like he was sick that day. I mean, some of those ingredients are awfully repellent. If I were already nauseous I would feel sickened by them, too. And as for the wand thing, I’m sure you just didn’t notice. Those things happen so fast, it’s impossible to remember clearly.” Hermione says.
“No, it really doesn’t add up. And all of the other stuff! He’s definitely hiding something!” Harry insists.
“Mate, I agree he’s being bloody weird, but he’s always been weird. He’s just a rude git with no friends,” mumbles Ron, mouth full of potatoes.
“Honestly, Harry, I thought you believed he’d changed. I mean, you did testify on his behalf,” Hermione finishes her meal with a flick of her napkin.
“No, I do think he’s changed! I just - what if he’s in trouble? What if he’s caught up in something and he has no one he can tell?”
“Harry-” Hermione begins at the same time Ron says, “Mate-”
“Nevermind,” Harry knows when he’s lost an argument. But just because his friends don’t believe him doesn’t mean he’s wrong. He was right last time, and he knows something is up this time, too. He just doesn’t know what yet.
After a few days of consideration, Harry decides the best policy is honesty. If he wants to bridge the gap between him and Malfoy, he’s going to have to be the one to do it. Harry wants to believe that Malfoy wouldn’t do anything bad, and if Malfoy really is in a situation where he thinks he has no one to go to, then Harry has to be the one to approach him.
Though that’s easier said than done, when he’s obviously not wanting to be approached. Harry has tried to keep an eye on Malfoy, see what he does, but whenever Harry checks his map Malfoy is either holed up in his room or in the library. Harry can’t talk in the library and he knows Malfoy would never let him in his room, so his only chance for confrontation is when he’s out.
Eventually Harry checks the map and is surprised to find that Malfoy is not only outside, but alone near the lake. It’s the perfect time to approach him, so Harry grabs his broom and heads outside.
It takes a while to spot him, huddled under the shade of a half-fallen tree. It’s a strange day to be out, having rained all day with puddles all over the floor, but Harry just adds it to his mental list of weird things Malfoy does.
Malfoy jerks his head up as Harry nears him to land, a scowl on his face.
“What are you doing here?” He sneers, though it’s not very intimidating with his arms wrapped around his legs.
“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” Harry returns, looking around at the wet, desolate environment. The sun peeks out from behind some clouds, but the shade of the tree keeps Harry from feeling any warmth.
“None of your business, Potter. Leave me alone,” Malfoy says, voice pitiful. It rubs Harry the wrong way, how powerless Malfoy sounds.
“Look, Malfoy, I know something is going on with you-” Harry starts, but Malfoy interrupts.
“You don’t know anything , Potter!” he yells, standing from the wet ground, body tense and fists clenched.
“I’ve been watching you! You’re acting weird! You don’t eat in the Hall, you have your own suite, you look paler and kind of sickly. And you don’t go outside… Unless it rains..” Harry slows down, an idea dawning on him even as Malfoy yells, “ Stop! ”
Harry continues, “I saw you. You stopped that wall from falling on the boy, but you weren’t even in the hallway. Everyone says you cast a spell but I know you weren’t holding your wand. There wasn’t any wandless magic either. You didn’t cast a shield charm, the wall did fall on you. You’re just strong. Supernaturally strong.”
Malfoy glares at him, fear and anger warring on his face. He doesn’t say anything.
“You’re a vampire, aren’t you,” Harry murmurs, half to himself.
“Fine! So you’ve figured it out, have you? The great Harry Potter solved another criminal’s dastardly plan. “Are you going to kill me, now that you know? Report me to the ministry, have me registered and reduced to a ‘dangerous being’? ‘Ex-death eater loses all remaining humanity, if he ever had any,’ a fitting headline for a Malfoy,” Malfoy bursts out, red in the face.
“No, I-” Harry starts.
“I won’t fight back, no chance against the hero anyway- wait, what?”
“No, I’m not going to kill you, or report you, or anything at all. I just thought you were in trouble, and I wanted to help you.”
Malfoy stares for a moment, bewildered, “I- help me? No one can help me! I’m a monster! I’m dead! Look at me!” Malfoy steps out of the shade, as the sun hits his skin it begins to shimmer. The light glows around him like a halo of radiant light, his eyes glow like molten silver, and Harry can’t pull his eyes away. It’s the most beautiful, enchanting thing he’s ever seen.
Malfoy opens his mouth in a grimace, fangs elongating from behind his lips.
“I exist to fucking devour people, and I can’t stop thinking about the taste of blood! I can’t even stand here without smelling the blood pumping through your veins, and wishing I could taste it. Everytime someone gets close to me I hear their heartbeat and it drives me crazy, this constant thirst. I’m evil incarnate, despite having just finally gotten out from under the thumb of the very same thing,” Malfoy trails off, a frustrated tear shines from one eye, tinted red.
“Are you happy now? To know how much I’ve been brought low, to see me finally get what was coming? What I deserve? That’s all this was anyway, a hire hit on the last Malfoy heir, turn him into a vampire and humiliate the “pureblood” Malfoys while ensuring I can never continue the bloodline. Not that it fucking mattered, considering I was already a failure in my family’s eyes, being a bloody poof anyway!” Malfoy yells, gesturing wildly at himself.
Harry had been enraptured by Draco’s beauty, but snapped back to the conversation. Draco is gay? That’s- unexpected. But not important right now.
“I don’t think you’re a monster. I’m not happy at all that you were turned against your will. But being a vampire doesn’t mean that you’re evil. No more than being a werewolf, or anything else does. It’s what you choose that makes you a good person,” Harry says, with full conviction.
Draco looks at him, defeat in his eyes and voice weak, “I’m not even a person anymore.”
Harry shakes his head, “You’re a person. You may not be human, but you’re a person. A good person. You’ve made good choices, you chose not to turn me in at the Manor, you chose to give me your wand, you chose to cooperate in the investigations and gave a lot of information that ended up saving innocent captured people. You chose to do good things, even with your family against you.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It is that simple, some people just don’t want to let it be. What those people have done was horrible, but it doesn’t mean your future is ruined. You’ve made it this far haven’t you?” Harry asks, searching Draco’s eyes.
Draco turns his face away, sitting back down to lean against the tree again. He sighs, “Apparently not well enough, if you’ve figured it out so easily.”
“It wasn’t easy. I was just watching you.” Draco’s eyes flashed in anger and Harry quickly tried to backtrack, “Not in a bad way! I’ve always wanted to see the good in you, and I was glad when you came back to Hogwarts. But you were acting strange, and I thought maybe you were caught up in something and didn’t have anyone to go to,” Harry explains, “I never thought you were plotting something, I just thought maybe something was going on out of your control. And I was kind of right.” Harry gives a small smile.
“Ever the savior aren’t you, Potter.” Draco frowns, but his voice doesn’t sound angry.
“I don’t dislike helping people. I know how horrible it is to be alone,” Harry remembers the cupboard under the stairs and shudders. He doesn’t like to think about it.
“I actually do have someone, sort of. I’m not entirely alone. McGonagall knows. As well as Severus and Dumbledore’s portraits.”
“McGonagall knows?” Harry asks, surprised.
Draco laughs, just a small, quiet thing, but it has Harry enchanted. “Do you think there’s anything that goes on in this castle that woman doesn’t know? My mother requested special accomodations for a ‘medical condition’, so McGonagall pulled me into her office and wouldn’t let me go until I told her everything. I was sure she would kick me out and report me, but she said that as long as I don’t injure any of my classmates it will be fine. She told me, ‘I’m in the business of nurturing young lives, Draco Malfoy, not ruining them. Your “illness” will be accomodated privately. Can you still eat biscuits?’ as if we were discussing the weather, and not my undeath.” Draco’s impression of McGonagall was nearly spot on, and Harry couldn’t hide his delighted smile.
“Yeah, that sounds like McGonagall,” Harry laughs. “So can you? Still eat biscuits, I mean?”
Draco looks at Harry with a strange expression he can’t understand. “You aren’t going to ask if I’ve actually hurt anyone?”
“No, I don’t think you have. You’re too Slytherin, your sense of self-preservation wouldn’t allow you to risk so much for some thirst. And I don’t believe that you would want to hurt anyone either.”
Draco looks at him again, this time for a long moment. The silence stretches, and Harry worries he said something wrong, before Draco speaks up again.
“Why is it always you, Potter?” Draco asks softly.
“Always me?” Harry replies, lost.
“You save me, every time you are the one that saves me,” Draco’s silver eyes bore into Harry, and Harry doesn’t know what to say. He can only stare back, helplessly.
After what must only be a few seconds, though it feels like a lifetime to Harry, Draco speaks again.
“The answer is yes, I can still eat biscuits. I can eat any food, though it holds no nutrition and I feel queasy if I eat too much. It doesn’t taste very good anymore, either,” he explains.
“That’s rough. I don’t know what I’d do if Treacle tart lost its flavor,” Harry internally marvels at the ease he and Draco (and when had he started to think of Malfoy as Draco anyway?) are having a casual conversation. It feels natural. Like maybe they could have been doing this the whole time, in another life.
“I do sometimes miss the sweetness of chocolate. Though...” Draco hesitates, unsure if he wants to continue his sentence. He does anyway, “There’s nothing like the taste of blood. It’s incredible. An incurable addiction. It’s painful.”
Harry doesn’t know how to reply. He couldn’t possibly understand.
“Though, look, there is one good thing that came out of this,” Draco pulls the sleeve of his left arm up to his elbow. Harry can’t help but stare at the smooth, unblemished skin.
“The Dark Mark, you removed it?” Harry asks, stunned.
“It healed it, when I turned. I’ve heard it usually doesn’t change tattoos, but my body must have registered the Mark not as an accessory, but as an ailment. It’s almost poetic. All of my past mistakes, gone. The moment I turned, every single imperfection or scar I had healed, even the ones you gave me.”
“Draco, I’m so sorry-” Harry starts, but Draco shakes his head and pulls his sleeve back down.
“I’m not. I deserved it, for trying to curse you first. Severus told me that you hadn’t known what that spell would do, and I believe that much is forgivable. Maybe if you had meant it, I would feel differently, but as much as I wanted to deny it, I’ve always known you are a good person.”
“That doesn’t make what I did okay.”
“No, but as I said, it makes it forgivable. I’ve already forgiven you.”
“Well, I’ve forgiven you, too. For the war, and before, for everything,” Harry replies, relieved. This is it. This is the bridge he wanted to build between them. He just can’t believe how good it feels, to finally have this connection. And how attractive Draco is, when he’s genuine like this. Charming is a good word, Harry thinks.
“Thank you for saying so. Though I can’t bring myself to believe that’s really true. What I’ve done, it can’t so simply be forgiven,” Draco demures, quiet.
“I’m a pretty simple bloke,” Harry shrugs, trying to lighten the mood. He suddenly has a thought.
“Hey you said, earlier you said you’re gay.”
Draco pauses, at a loss, before replying hotly, “Really? You’re going to bring that up right now? Yes Potty, in a cruel twist of fate the pureblood heir is bent.”
“No, I didn’t mean- I just wanted to say, well, I am too. So you aren’t alone in that either.”
Draco stares, shock plainly on his face, “What? What about the Weaselette?”
“Weaselette? Oh, Ginny, she kind of actually helped me figure it out,” Harry laughs sheepishly, scratching his neck.
“Oh dear, what a scandal! Saviour of the wizarding world prefers the company of men!” Draco exclaims, in a false announcer’s voice.
Harry frowns, “Stop it! I just didn’t want you thinking that I have blackmail against you or anything.”
Draco looks at him, a helpless smile on his face, “Potter, I’m a bloody vampire. Being outed is the last thing on my mind, right now.”
Harry shrugs, embarrassed. It had seemed like a good idea, but now he just felt like an idiot.
However, Draco continues, “But, thank you. Again. Your trust carries a lot of weight. I honestly didn’t think I would ever be trusted again. As much as it galls me that it’s you .”
“Wow, thanks. Am I that bad?” Harry sulks, still embarrassed.
Draco looks at him again, but this time it unnerves Harry. It feels like he can see into Harry’s thoughts, not only his embarrassment, but his newfound helpless attraction to this Draco.
Draco breaks the silence again, softly, “No. I don’t mean that. While it hurts whatever’s left of my pride a bit to be saved by my arch-rival once again, I’m glad it was you who found me, Harry.”
Draco called him ‘Harry.’ Harry thinks his chest might explode. Whatever is happening between them is new and scary, but exciting. Harry wants to hear his name from that mouth again. He can’t help but let his eyes follow his thoughts, and he stares at Draco’s plush lips.
“Harry…” Draco says again, and leans in.
“Draco,” Harry whispers, but it’s lost in the kiss between them.
It’s a little awkward, and surprisingly cold, but it feels just right to Harry. He leans in closer, and loses track of time for a while.
By the time they make it back to the common room, hand in hand, the sun has long since set.
Fin.