The Vampire Malfoy

Chapter Eight

Bleeding Me Dry

And it's always little things that to the surface brings

Space you need to breath before the curtain call

A light that leads the way before you hit the wall

A mountain that you climb just to take the fall

The blind among the blind

And all we have to lose is time

And what we lose we leave behind

Stay around and we will shine

There's an anchor round my heart, dragging me down

Beneath the waves of silence I fall

There's a halo above my head, spinning me round

Because I don't know if I'm alive or dead

There's a dagger in my hand, bleeding me dry -Halo, Oleander

***

Upstairs in the sixth year boy's dormitory, Harry was frowning. It was almost nine o'clock, but instead of hurrying out to the Quidditch pitch or into the Dungeons he was sitting on his bed worrying. For the past two nights Draco had not been in their meeting place. He hadn't been at meals or in class either. He'd even snuck back into the Slytherin Common room, but Draco wasn't there. Harry was worried, but could think of no logical reason to ask after Draco's wellbeing from one of his housemates.

Suddenly he hit himself in the head and groaned. Of course- the Marauder's map. He could see where Malfoy was. He rifled quickly through his trunk, pulling the map and the invisibility cloak onto his bed.

He tapped the map with his wand, whispering, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

Lines appeared, showing the castle floor plan, and he quickly spotted the dot labelled Draco Malfoy. He was in the infirmary.

Harry hastily wiped the map, and hurried from the room, throwing the cloak around himself as he ran. Behind him the map fluttered to the floor.

***

"Malfoy!" Harry exclaimed in a whisper, leaning over the blonde boy in the dark infirmary. Madame Pomfrey was thankfully no where to be found, but Harry thought it best to whisper.

"Yes, Potter?" Draco replied, eyes flickering open.

"What happened to you? I was wor--" Harry broke off. "I waited for you yesterday and you didn't show up."

Draco looked at him. "Yes, well, I was a trifle occupied with being rather seriously ill. I still am, in fact."

Harry peered at him, noticing Draco's clammy complexion and the dark circles under his eyes.

"What happened?" he whispered.

"Bad blood. The suppliers I buy from tried to swindle me by giving me disgusting Muggle blood from a blood bank, or something. Dumbledore explained it all to me, but I was filing my nails at the time and not really listening. Apparently Muggles have rather unhygienic ways of storing blood, and any impurities really fuck up a Vampire's system. It's rather inconvenient."

"You will get better though, right?" Harry asked, urgency in his voice.

Draco shrugged. "I'm not sure. Madame Pomfrey seems to think I'll be fine, but I can feel it, you know? It's like a poison inside me. Eating me alive. Well, dead. But you know what I mean."

"Oh."

Harry paused in thought.

"So, you mean you might..."

"Die?" Draco finished. Harry nodded solemnly.

"Probably. Nothing much I can do, is there?"

Harry frowned in thought. Draco couldn't die. He- he was needed here. And there must be some way. There was always a way...

He vaguely recollected seeing Muggle medical dramas on TV. Sometimes, if someone was really ill, they would give them a blood transfusion.

Transfusion.

That was it. The solution.

Harry brightened, looking up at Draco, who was watching him through half closed eyes.

"You remember how you were telling me about blood? About how the different types affect you in different ways?" Draco nodded, sitting up slightly, and Harry continued.

"You said my blood was special. That it was power. If you- if you drank some of it, could it cure you? Could it purge the bad blood from you?"

Draco thought for a moment. "It's a possibility..." he trailed off, looking into Harry's eyes.

"You don't understand what you're offering," he said, looking as if he were trying not to lick his lips.

"Yes I do," Harry said, holding out his bared wrist. "I'm offering you life."

Their eyes met in understanding and in pain. Harry pleaded to Draco with his eyes.

"Please," he whispered.

Draco hesitated for a moment, then took Harry's proffered arm, sinking his fangs into the vein before he could change his mind.

Harry cried out in pain, then bit his lip, letting only faint whimpers escape. The pain was so sharp, so cruel. And yet it stood on that thin precipice between pain and pleasure.

Harry felt his breath catch in his throat and it was an effort to breathe. He wanted to wrench his arm away, but he couldn't. He wouldn't.

There was a small cry from the other end of the room, and Draco released his arm.

Harry collapsed on the floor, holding his wrist to his chest and panting.

It took a great effort, but he raised himself, eyes fixed on the solid stone floor. Then he lifted his head, looking up to see Hermione staring back at him, eyes open wide with shock.