The Vampire Malfoy

Chapter Three:

Choices

And you can easily gamble your life away

Second after second and day by day

You play the game or you walk away

It's a new turn on a blue day...

I always played it safe, nothings ever safe

Give me the courage to back my own conclusions

Every decision I make, I pay it back and more

Now turn the cards and let them fall to me

I don't need to play on with the hand they have given me

I'll give it back, 'cause that's not the way it has to be.

Shape by Sting

***

Draco's eyes widened slightly, and he stared at Harry. Then he swung himself around and looked into the mirror.

All Draco saw was Harry, and the confusion in his eyes.

In a rush of rage, he let go of Harry's arm and grabbed a nearby chair. With a primal roar he lifted it and flung it at the mirror, which shattered. Pieces of glass fell like snowflakes onto the floor below.

Harry just stared, unsure of what to do or say. He'd never seen Malfoy so out of control. It was one of the things that annoyed him the most. Draco always seemed so composed and in control, even when they were hurling curses at each other.

He looked down at Draco, who was kneeling on the floor, shoulders hunched, head down, shaking.

"Malfoy?"

Silence. He hesitated then:

"Draco?"

The blond boy froze. Time seemed to stand still and Harry began to regret speaking to Malfoy in that way. As if....as if they shared something. Harry opened his mouth to say something, anything to cover the awkward silence. But before he could, Draco gave a gasping sob.

Then, ever so slowly, he raised his head.

Green eyes met grey. Then Draco slowly rose, and Harry noticed a single tear sliding down his cheek.

Harry gave a small gasp.

The tear was red.

Blood red.

He fought the urge to step away. He fought the urge to turn and run screaming from the room. A tiny voice deep inside his mind told him that it would have been the right thing to do. Instead, instinct took over. It was the same instinct he used each time he fought for his life, or the life of those he loved. It was instinct that came only from protectiveness.

He reached out and gently wiped the tear away with his thumb.

Draco's eyes trailed along Harry's now blood stained hand, and back up to Harry's face.

"Shit," he whispered, avoiding Harry's gaze.

Harry stared at him hopelessly. He watched as Draco turned away, walking over to his bed. He marvelled at the Slytherin boy's ability to look so elegant and graceful despite the heartbreaking expression on his face. Harry bit his lip. He was possessed with the strangest feeling. It was sympathy. Sympathy for a boy he'd always believed he'd hated. Until now. Realisation struck him suddenly.

He cared about Draco. He cared about him like a friend, like he cared for the Weasleys and the other boys in his dorm, like Sirius and Remus. And Ron and Hermione.

He cared for Draco the way he cared for his family.

Harry swallowed hard. It was a scary thought. In many ways, caring, and love was a weakness. It could be exploited. So he tried to hold people at arms length, not letting them get too close. Not allowing himself to care.

And now, suddenly, this had snuck up on him. Harry felt vulnerable, unprotected. And yet, strangely safe.

He was vaguely aware of Draco staring at him, his expression now blank, as if no plea, no cry for help had passed across his features. A moment passed, as both boys looked at each other, unsure. Then Harry said the one thing he could think of, something he would say automatically to any member of his family.

"Do you want to talk?"

Draco's eyes widened, as if in fear. There was another pause, as if he was considering Harry's offer. Then, to Harry's surprise, he nodded.

Harry sunk down into a chair and leant forward expectantly. Curiosity was getting the better of him, and he tried to look encouraging. After all, this was what he'd come to find out.

Draco put his head in his hands. He was silent, then he looked up, his usual sardonic smile in place. "This is exceedingly weird, Potter. Talking to you. I mean, what does Perfect Potter know about internal angst?"

Harry bristled. "A lot more than you'd think, Malfoy. And if you're going to be so...you, I'd be happy to leave." He motioned as if to go, feeling a rush of triumph as Draco's eyes flashed again.

"No!" Draco looked away, hiding his face from view. "I mean, stay."

The awkward silence reigned again, and Harry slowly resettled himself in the chair. Neither spoke. Finally Harry raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't know where to start."

Harry chuckled briefly, despite himself. "Try the beginning."

Draco glared at him, then took a deep breath.

"It-it's a bit hard to explain."

Harry gave him what he felt to be an encouraging look.

Draco smiled slightly, closing his eyes, and began to talk.

"This summer Father decided to travel to Romania. He said he had a few old friends to catch up with. I assumed they were Death-- I mean, old school friends," he hastily amended, glancing quickly at Harry. Harry kept his expression blank, and Draco continued.

"On the first night he took me with him to this old castle- you know the type, all turrets and drawbridges. Very medieval. Inside were hundreds of people. They were all so young. So beautiful. I mean, you should have seen some of the girls..."

Harry raised an eyebrow again, and Draco shrugged, smirking slightly.

"Anyway, Father told me to wait in the library. He had some sort of negotiation to work out with the owner of the castle. So I'm sitting in the library, reading a strange book I found when this man walks in. He looked so...graceful, exactly how wanted to be when I grew up. He just sat down and started asking me about myself. He wouldn't tell me his name, just kept wanting to talk about me. He noticed I -uh- took pride in my appearance--"

Harry gave a cough that sounded a little like 'vain poser'.

Draco glared at him briefly, then continued with his story.

"He was telling me how one day my looks would wither away and I'd be...I'd be old." Draco shivered, looking down into his lap. "It- it scared me. I'd never really thought about dying. I mean, it's not like I walk around thinking about my own mortality or anything."

Harry stopped smiling. "I do," he whispered quietly.

Draco looked up sharply and Harry thought he saw something that was almost like compassion flicker behind those grey eyes. But the moment was fleeting and Draco turned away.

"I was scared." Draco said, in a voice tinged with what sounded like anger. Harry glanced over at him, recognising the emotion. It wasn't anger. It was fear. Pure, terrifying fear. He'd felt the thrill of it so often himself, it was like looking into a mirror.

"I don't want to die and I certainly don't want to be all wrinkled and ugly." Draco continued, shuddering at the thought. Harry repressed a smile.

"He told me he had a solution. He could make me stay young and beautiful forever. I thought he meant an elixir or something, maybe like that Philosophers Stone thing in first year. I was intrigued. Who wouldn't be? A chance to look this good forever? Only a fool would pass that up." He smiled wryly.

"He told me not to be afraid. He said he would give me the choice that he never had. And I chose."

Draco paused, his eyes locked into Harry's own. Then he smiled sadly.

"I just didn't understand the consequences of the choice."