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Drain Him Dry

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Harry found him in an alley beside his favorite pub.

He heard a soft moan and thought it was just some bloke getting lucky. Then he heard a whimper, a stuttered, “Please—no,” and rushed into the alley with his wand drawn.

A blond man had a woman pressed against the wall, his hand somewhere up her skirt, his mouth working over her neck.

Harry paused, not sure what he was seeing. He lowered his wand a bit. The woman stared at him, her mouth open in a moan, her hands fisting the man’s cloak.

Harry flushed. “Sorry—”

The man raised his head and bared his teeth at him, his mouth dripping with blood. “Fuck off,” he growled.

Harry startled. “Malfoy?

“Like I said—”

“Are you hurting her?” Harry took a step forward, his wand now pointed at Malfoy’s face.

“Yes, but I assure you, it’s quite consensual.”

The woman tried to pull Malfoy back to her neck. “Hurry up—my husband—”

Harry was still unsure. “Miss—?”

Malfoy groaned. “For fuck’s sake! Mind your own damn business!”

Somebody banged open the pub’s front door. “Honey? Are you out here?”

“Shite!” The woman pushed Malfoy away and Disapparated.

A moment later a man rounded the corner. “Oh,” he said, not really looking at Harry and Malfoy. “Have you seen my wife? Comes up to my shoulders, dark hair?”

Malfoy hastily wiped at his mouth. “Nope. I don’t think so.” He stared fiercely at Harry, challenging him to say something.

Harry gulped. “No—I haven’t seen a woman around here either.”

Sighing, the man nodded and went back into the pub.

Malfoy turned on Harry. “What the actual fuck, Potter? You just cost me a meal!”

“You were attacking her!” Harry didn’t know what to think. It’d been ages since he’d last seen Malfoy, and he had no idea that Malfoy had become a vampire.

“Not really!” Malfoy stalked over to Harry. “You don’t have a clue what I was doing to her!”

“It was pretty obvious that you were biting her!” Harry pointed his wand at him again.

Malfoy licked his lips and inched closer. “What do you know about vampires?”

Harry took a quick step back. “Don’t come near me!”

“Are you sure?” Malfoy tongued his fangs. “Did you know that it’s utterly orgasmic to be bitten by a vampire? A bloke once told me it felt like his cock getting sucked by two soft mouths at the same time. He said it felt like sinking deep into a throbbing, wet—”

“Enough!” Harry was trembling.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” Malfoy said. “I’ll let you fuck my arse before I nibble on your neck.”

Harry’s eyes went wide. “I’d never—I don’t even—”

Malfoy stalked even closer, and somehow Harry found himself crowded against the grimy wall of the alley. He whispered in Harry’s ear: “Has your cock ever been up an arse? It’s so fucking tight, Potter. It makes you almost want to cry it feels so good.”

God. How had this happen? Harry’d just been enjoying a pint after work, minding his own business, and somehow he’d found himself panting in an alley with a vampire. Panting with Draco fucking Malfoy pressed against him.

“What do you say?” Malfoy nipped at his earlobe. “You can trust me.”

Harry couldn’t help it: He moaned. His eyes fluttered closed, his head falling back on the wall. Malfoy pressed a thigh between his legs.

“Oh, hello,” Malfoy said, grinding into Harry’s groin. He laughed. “It turns out the Chosen One isn’t so straight after all.”

“God,” Harry whispered. Not many people knew he liked blokes. He had never slept with one before, and any sort of exploration had mainly consisted of timid conversations with Hermione about what it meant for him to be attracted to both men and women.

Malfoy hesitated. “You’ve never done this, have you?”

Harry didn’t say anything.

“Fuck,” Malfoy said, and stepped back. It took him a moment to speak. “I—don’t think we should continue. It’d be better if I just found somebody else.”

Harry’s eyes snapped open. “What? But—” He took a deep breath. “Okay, yeah. That’s probably for the best.” He focused on his trainers, not allowing himself to look at Malfoy. Disappointment sat heavy in his stomach, but he refused to think about why.

“Right.” Malfoy sounded uncomfortable. “Well . . . goodbye, then.”

Harry glanced up. It might’ve been wishful thinking, but he thought Malfoy seemed let down. He wanted to say something . . . anything. He didn’t want this to be the last time they saw each other.

“Err . . . maybe we could meet up sometime . . . like properly?”

Malfoy looked stunned. “What? You’d want that?” He scowled and then visibly forced any emotion from his face. “Thanks, but I’m not interested in virgins.”

“I’m not a virgin! There’s been loads of women!”

Malfoy smirked. “Loads, eh?” He sighed. “I’m over teaching blokes how to fuck me. I’ve got more important things to worry about.”

Harry frowned. “We’re only twenty-four.”

Rolling his eyes, Malfoy said, “Yeah, and I’m also a vampire. Creatures of the night don’t just grit and bear it while some novice awkwardly plows their arse.”

“Oh.” Harry blushed. He couldn’t even deny that was how it’d be. “I guess I’ll just wait for some other bloke to come along.” God, had he completely lost his mind? This was Malfoy! Former Death Eater. Nose-crusher. Almost Dumbledore’s murderer. And now vampire.

Malfoy looked indecisive. He sucked on his bottom lip, the tip of right fang peeking out. “I guess we could just fool around or something. Wank each other.”

Harry’s breath hitched. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Malfoy pulled his cloak around himself. “I’ll think about it. See you around, Scarhead.” He Disapparated.

For a moment or two, Harry stared at the spot where Malfoy had stood, struggling to comprehend what just happened. He was shaking badly. He was very aroused, his breathing still fast. He wanted Malfoy to come back. He wanted to prove to Malfoy that he could be good in bed. Maybe he didn’t know everything, but he was willing . . . desperate to learn.

He wanted to sink to his knees for Malfoy. He wanted to unbutton his trousers with his teeth and then slowly, worshipfully, wrap his tongue around Malfoy’s pink, glistening—

“Argh!” Harry hid his face. What the hell was he thinking? Malfoy was a sodding vampire! He probably didn’t even care about getting his cock sucked. He probably just wanted to slice Harry’s neck open with his razor-sharp teeth and drain him of every last drop of blood.

Harry exhaled loudly and straightened his back. Enough. No more focusing on Malfoy. He had work in the morning. He had to get home. He spun and Disapparated.

At home he went down to the kitchen and poured himself two fingers of whiskey. He swallowed the burning liquor quickly. His prick throbbed. He was desperate for a wank, but he was afraid of what he would fantasize.

Malfoy had looked different in that alley. Yes, he was paler, his eyes darker, but he’d also grown into his features. He was taller than Harry remembered, his shoulders broader, his chin less pointy. He was quite attractive now . . . and he liked men shoving their cocks up his arse.

Oh, fuck. Now Harry was thinking about Malfoy’s arse taking a cock. He shivered and allowed himself to palm his erection through his jeans. It wouldn’t mean anything if he wanked to Malfoy. He’d probably never see the bloke again, and it was perfectly normal to have sexual fantasies about people you knew . . .

He went to his en-suite to get ready for bed. He brushed his teeth and then carefully eased his jeans and pants off. His cock sprang free and it took everything in him not to hastily jerk himself off . . . maybe if he aimed right he could get it all in the toilet . . . No, no. He wanted to make it good.

He slid into bed naked. He usually liked sleeping bare, but tonight it was because he didn’t want to paint his freshly-washed pants with come. He spelled his bedding to the edge of his mattress and made his legs nice and wide. He Conjured up some lube and tipped his palm to slowly drip the oil down his cock. He shivered again. If he took off his glasses, he could pretend that the cock he slicked up wasn’t his own. He grasped himself, his shaft hot in his hand, his toes curling from the sensation. God, would Malfoy feel like this in his palm? No, he’d be much colder. Harry’s prick jerked. He wanted to wrap his hand around Malfoy’s soft cock and stroke him slowly, teasingly, until he was fully erect. He wanted to get Malfoy so hard that his cock lay heavy on his stomach, his bollocks tight and ready to burst.

Oh—fuck. Harry had to squeeze the base of his erection. That image of Malfoy had made him dribble pre-come, his hips thrusting into his hand mindlessly. He was far too close. He hadn’t even started really touching himself, and he already felt his orgasm brewing in his bollocks.

He began stroking himself, quickly, messily. If he wasn’t going to last long, then he would make it as good as possible. He reached down to squeeze his bollocks, fucking hard into his fist. His eyes rolled back.

If Malfoy had been wanking him right now, he’d probably say something snarky and cruel. Something like: Is that all you got, Potter? Of course you’d come quickly, you desperate, pathetic virgin . . .

Harry cried out and spurted ropes of come onto his stomach. He kept on pumping himself even as his orgasm faded, determined to milk every drop.

He collapsed against his pillows, his mouth hanging open. He was asleep the next moment.


In the morning he woke up shivering, his come crusty on his stomach and hand. He groaned and blearily patted for his glasses. Damn, what time was it? He checked with his wand. 7:18. Fuck, fuck! He had less than forty-five minutes to get to the Ministry! He stumbled from bed to his shower. He was in the middle of scrubbing his face when he remembered his coffee; with soap-filled eyes, he Summoned his wand and blindly spelled his coffee pot on. He think he aimed somewhere between his guest towels and the painting of mermaids (both courtesy of Hermione), and hoped that somehow his magic penetrated down two levels.

When he was out of the shower and dressed in his Auror robes, he found his coffee steaming and ready to pour. With a swish of his wand, his favorite travel mug soared out of the cabinet to catch the coffee pot’s transfer. He stirred in milk and sugar by hand, his fingers moistened from the steam.

He yawned loudly and dug his knuckles into his eyes. Christ. He wasn’t ready for another day of work. It felt like it was only a second ago that he’d left the Ministry. He grabbed his coffee and his canvas shoulder bag, and Disapparated.

He appeared in an alley near the Ministry. He hopped into the phone booth and dialed MAGIC and his employee pin so that the operator knew he wasn’t a visitor. Then he descended. He rested his face against the cool glass and wished he was going to Hell, not the bloody Ministry.

By habit he scurried through the lobby with his head down. You wouldn’t believe how many prats wanted to hold him up in the mornings, yanking his arm into unnecessary handshakes, glancing furtively at his scar.

He lucked out in the lift. There were only a few other riders and nobody tapped him on the shoulder to speak to him. Good. He usually just wanted to be left the hell alone.

The lift stopped a few floors above the D. M. L. E. “Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures,” announced the charmed speaker.

God dammit. He’d been doing so well, too! Images of Malfoy from last night flooded him. Malfoy stalking closer, the feel of Malfoy’s mouth on his ear, Malfoy’s low voice forcing him to orgasm. He shielded his face and clenched his teeth, determined to not make sound. Oh, fuck, fuck. How was he supposed to get any work done with those thoughts swimming around in his head?

The doors opened up again and he stumbled out. He rushed to his cubicle and was relieved when he found it empty. Dean wasn’t in yet.

He slumped into his chair. He cradled his face. It was ridiculous that Malfoy of all people was making him feel this way. He used to think Malfoy looked too much like a ferret to be attractive. His stupid pointy nose used to look like a Muggle plastic surgeon had been too excited with a chisel, like the bits meant to cover up his boney face had crumbled away ala an ancient sculpture.

I vant to suck your blood.

Harry looked around wildly.

I never drink . . . vine.

He twisted around. It was one of Dean’s artistic creations charmed to repeat lines from an old-timey horror film. Dracula leered down at him from his canvas; Dean had done a terrific job on his eyes: they glinted evilly, the shadowy face hypnotizing. Harry sighed. He always forgot how much Dean got into Halloween.

He spelled open his calendar. Ugh. Halloween was in two days. The Ministry always held a big bash, and Minister Shacklebolt pretty much required Harry to attend. He brightened a little. At least there would be an open bar. Maybe he could get pissed enough to talk up a cute waiter . . .

“Morning,” Dean said, banging into their cubicle. He threw his stuff down on his desk and reached for his mug. “You want tea?”

Harry blinked at Dean. He didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or flinch: Dean had spelled horns onto his head, dark blood oozing from where they’d burst through his scalp.

Dean grinned and fingered a horn. “Pretty cool, right?”

Harry laughed. “Isn’t it too early for costumes?”

Scoffing, Dean said, “Halloween is in less than forty-eight hours! I’ve been waiting all year for it!”

He held up his hands. “No disagreement here. And tea would be most appreciated.”

“All right.” Dean wandered to the kitchen. He came back a few minutes later with two mugs hovering by his side.

Once again Dean chose to put Harry’s tea in the Batman’s Girlfriend mug. The ceramic was black, with the Batman logo and the girlfriend bit flashing in bright pink cursive.

“Every sodding time!” Harry yelled, even though he secretly enjoyed sipping from the cup. He definitely wouldn’t mind shagging a crime fighting bloke rippling with muscle.

Dean snickered. “I couldn’t help it.” He plopped down in his chair with a loud sigh. “Look at all this paperwork . . .”

“Yeah.” Harry scowled at his own mountain of paper. When he’d rushed to join the Aurors at eighteen, he imagined he’d be out solving mysteries, chasing down the bad guys . . . not stuck at a desk every damn day, filling out forms and reports until his fingers were sore and his eyesight blurred. He hadn’t been out in the field for months. The most exciting part of his job was seeing how many cups of tea he could gulp down before his bladder burst. His current record was seven, which he thought was quite the accomplishment.

“But, hey, at least you got lunch with Ron and Hermione today,” Dean said.

Harry brightened. “That’s right! How do you know my schedule better than me?”

Shrugging, Dean said, “That’s what partners are for.”


He met Ron and Hermione in the backroom of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes headquarters. Ron had on large leather goggles and he was dipping a metal tube into a cauldron that smelt of burning toffee. Hermione perched away from him, plugging her nose as she feverously read a thick folder of documents.

“Hullo,” Harry said with a grin. Their lunch hovered at his shoulder.

Hermione put away her reading and stood to hug him. She examined his face. “You look tired.”

“Yeah . . .” He ruffled his hair. “I’ve got a story to tell you lot.”

“Oh?” She poked Ron in the arm. “Harry’s here.”

Ron took off his goggles. “Sorry . . . I was in the zone.”

“He’s got a story to tell us,” Hermione said.

“Brilliant.” Ron took up a chair at the cleared away work table. “Do you by chance also have Pad Thai?”

“I sure do.” Harry dropped the takeaway bags on the table. “I even made sure to get Hermione Pad See Ew.”

“Bless you,” she said, searching through the Styrofoam containers. She found her lunch and popped a nugget of fried tofu into her mouth. “Mmm. Crispy.”

Harry stole some of her tofu. “Agreed.”

She glowered at him. “So, what do you need to tell us?”

He busied himself eating his Pad Thai. When he felt both Ron and Hermione staring at him, he sighed and said, “Did you know that Malfoy was a vampire now?”

“What?” Ron said, shocked.

Hermione shrugged. “Yeah. I’ve heard about it.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Harry said too loudly.

She looked a bit confused. “I don’t know? I thought you’d read it in the Prophet like everybody else. Of course it was because he was trying to do something two-faced and illegal.”

“What do you mean?” Harry was annoyed that Hermione thought he still read the Prophet after all the lies they wrote about him.

She was thinking hard. “If I remember correctly, the Ministry wanted to take away the Malfoy Manor over unpaid reparations, and he partnered with some questionable characters to make some quick galleons. It didn’t turn out so well for him.”

“Oh,” Harry said.

“Did something happen with him?” she asked.

He sighed. Of course Hermione would sense there was something more. He glanced at Ron, who was shoveling noodles into his mouth. Ron knew he was attracted to men, but Harry also avoided talking to him about it because things usually got awkward between them.

“Yes.” Harry tried to figure how to explain the encounter without getting too personal. “I was coming outta the Griffin last night and I thought I heard someone being attacked. I rushed into the alley and found Malfoy feeding off a woman.”

“Whoa,” Ron said. “What did he look like?”

“He looked . . . normal I guess. The only big difference was that he now has fangs.”

Ron seemed disappointed. “Oh . . . well that’s still a bit weird, right? Malfoy with fangs.”

“Yeah.” Harry licked his dry lips. “So, Malfoy wasn’t really attacking her, more like . . . you know. She seemed into it.”

“Okay,” Hermione said. “Then what happened?” Harry sensed that she was already putting two and two together.

Trying not to blush, he said, “The thing with the woman didn’t work out, so Malfoy . . . um . . . well he said he wanted to feed on me.” Harry whispered the last bit.

“Yeah, I’m sure he did,” Ron said. “I doubt vampires care about which person they drink from.”

Hermione’s eyebrows were raised. “Is that all?”

“No.” Harry took a deep breath and tried to steady himself. “He also wanted to . . . shag me.”

“WHAT?” Ron started howling in laughter. It took him a moment or two to calm down. “Malfoy and you? He wishes!”

Harry blushed. He couldn’t meet the eyes of his best mates.

“Did you shag him?” Hermione asked quietly. Ron became very still.

“No,” Harry mumbled, “but . . . I really wanted to.”

Ron made a choked squeak and sounded like he’d just swallowed a fly.

“I don’t think that’d be a very good idea,” Hermione said, frowning.

“Yeah . . . I reckon not,” Harry said. “But . . . what if I still wanted to?”

“Mate,” Ron said, finally finding his voice, “Malfoy is a prick . . . he’s dangerous. Couldn’t you just find some nice girl or . . . bloke?”

“He’s right,” Hermione said. “You’re the most eligible bachelor in the wizarding community. You could easy nab somebody who’s . . . you know . . . alive.”

Harry sighed. “I’m not saying it’s a done thing. Malfoy disappeared before anything could happen. I’m just wondering what I should do before seeking him out.”

Ron groaned. He took up his lunch and shoved a big forkful of noodles into his mouth. It was obvious that he was done with the conversation.

Hermione glared at Ron a little. “If you are determined to go ahead with this, then you must educate yourself.” She scrunched up her face in thought. “I can’t remember much about vampires, but I’m sure if you pop into Flourish and Blotts you could get ahold of some useful texts.”

“Okay,” he said, scowling a bit. He hated shopping in Diagon Alley.

“Seriously, Harry.” She touched his hand. “Vampires can . . . you know . . . kill you. You need to find ways to protect yourself. I never thought Malfoy was capable of murder, but then again, he wasn’t a dark creature back in school.”

“Fine,” he said, huffing. “I’ll go book shopping tonight after work.”

“Also, don’t forget about getting a costume for the Halloween Bash,” Hermione said. “Ron and I are going as Frankenstein’s Monster and his bride.”

Ron shrugged. “I don’t have a clue who this Frankenstein bloke is, but Hermione’s got it all covered.”

Harry groaned. He didn’t want to dress up in a costume.

“Just . . . watch out for yourself,” Ron said uncomfortably. “I don’t fancy staking Malfoy because he ate my best friend.”

“I will,” Harry said, not really knowing how he felt about any of it.


After work Harry Floo’ed to the Leaky Cauldron. He snuck into its loo to disguise his face. Following the war, he’d learned quickly that it was damn near impossible to get anything done when he roamed among the wizarding public as himself. A few weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts, he’d visited Fortescue’s on a whim and ended up completely shutting down Diagon Alley. He’d been stuck in the little parlor for hours, a mob of people pressing against the glass, shrieking for him to come out. It’d made him feel like a cornered villain, not somebody who’d just defeated a dark wizard.

Thankfully things had calmed down since then, but people still followed him, still approached him for an autograph, still trembled and stuttered through their praises. He would rather avoid all of that.

The gas lamp in the loo was quite weak, the mirror above the basin cracked. He’d never been very good at concealment spells, or rather, he’d never been as good as Hermione at them. He was decent, and the spells usually held if people didn’t examine him too closely.

Dissimulato faciem,” he muttered, shortening his nose, broadening his brow. When he was done, he looked a bit like a caveman, which was all right.

He left the pub and ventured to the bookshop quickly, still keeping his head down even though his face was concealed. Flourish and Blotts was a little crowded, but it was nothing like the mad rush right before the beginning of term. Harry sought out someone to help him.

“Pardon me, where can I find the section on vampires?” he asked.

The employee didn’t even look at his face. “Aisle six at the end.”

“Thanks,” he said, and continue with his search. It always made him excited to not be recognized in public.

The section was interesting to say the least. There were the usual suspects about vampire lore and home and office defense, but there was also a whole bookcase devoted to smutty novels. Harry flipped through them at random, and realized that they got gayer the lower he crouched. He got on his hands and knees to pick through the books on the bottom shelf. One in particular caught his fancy: Blood Brothers: Stories of Prowling Young Men and the Vampires Waiting in the Shadows. Harry snorted. On the cover was a photograph of an ogling vampire licking his fangs. Harry glanced through the book, and was about to put it back on the shelf when he spotted the words “cock” and “throbbing.” Yep, he’d buy it.

Crawling back to his feet, he turned his attention to the books that were really going to help him. He wasn’t as interested in going through this lot, so he grabbed a thick book entitled: 1,000 FACTS about Vampires and called it good.

A few minutes later he wandered outside with his purchases safely minimized and tucked into his cloak pocket. The sun had gone down, and he wondered if Malfoy was on the prowl again. He was probably entering a pub now, sizing up the other patrons, determining who was frisky enough to sneak off with him.

Harry gritted his teeth. It was ridiculous, but he felt a flash of hot jealousy. He didn’t want Malfoy sneaking off with anyone but himself. After the war, they’d become practically strangers, but Harry didn’t care. He wanted Malfoy. He knew it was more than a little absurd. He knew that Malfoy was—at best—only mildly interested in him, but it didn’t matter. He’d do anything to kiss him softly, to feel his strong body against his, to slowly sink into Malfoy’s tight arse.

Christ. He really shouldn’t think about these things in public. He rested against a brick wall, closing his eyes briefly. He refused to be aroused right now. He opened his eyes again and spotted a tiny shop across the street: Edlenor’s Enchantments and Elixirs. Hmm. Perhaps he’d find information on vampires in there.

A cloud of incense greeted him inside the shop. He coughed and cast an air-purifying charm. It was quite dark.

“Hello?” he called.

“Welcome,” answered a muted voice. “Try not to trip on the armadillo shells.”

“Err . . . all right.” He muttered Lumos and watched his feet as he crept through the twisting aisle. When he emerged at the end, he discovered a cluttered counter and a tiny woman standing behind it. Only her face was visible above the heaps of splattered feathers and glimmering jewelry.

“How may I help you?” she asked.

“Um . . . good question.” Feeling awkward, he asked, “What do you know about vampires?”

She raised her bushy eyebrows. Her skin was yellowy and wrinkled, her nose hooked. “You will need to be more specific. Are you trying to protect yourself or attract one?”

Now it was his turn to look surprised. “Some people want to attract vampires?”

“Of course.” She gazed at him steadily.

He flushed. “I guess I want to do a bit of both.”

She nodded seriously. “Follow me.” She came around the counter and he tried not to stare. She was about the size of an elf. She led him to the book section and Summoned one down with a crook of her finger.

He read the title: London after Dark: Vampire Hotspots and Where to Find Them. He thought about turning the book down but then realized it could come in handy if he decided to go looking for Malfoy.

“Thanks,” he said, plucking the book from the air.

The old woman grinned. She was missing her front teeth. “Now . . . how to protect yourself.” She moved down the aisle and paused at a row of glass jars containing little cloth balls. She handed him a jar. “My own recipe. Wear it on your person and a vampire will know not to chance it with you.”

“How?” He frowned at the jar. “What’s in the balls?”

“They contain a mix of ground garlic, dragon heart, and monkshood. Vampires hate the smell and it’s toxic to them if consumed.”

“Consumed by me or the vampire?”

She shrugged. “Either.”

“Oh,” he said. “How much?”

“Thirty-five galleons . . . but fifty if you buy two.”

“All right.” He tried to project all of his Auror authority. “But you’ll hear from me if it doesn’t work!”

She cackled. “It’ll work!”

Following her back to the till, he thought about Blood Brothers in his pocket. His stomach squirmed. He was going to have a lot of fun with that book once he got home.


“For fuck’s sake—stop moving,” Dean said.

Harry groaned. “How much longer?”

“Stop asking me that!” Dean took a step back and frowned at Harry. He held a little face paint brush. “I can’t decide if I want you to look evil or not.”

“Seriously it doesn’t matter.” Harry shuffled his aching feet. He’d failed to pick out a costume for the Bash, and Dean had taken pity on him after work. They’d been standing in the Ministry loo for a good hour as Dean carefully painted on Harry’s costume.

Dean rolled his eyes. “It’s Halloween! Of course it matters!” He squinted at Harry’s mouth. “I feel like you need more blood dripping down your chin.”

“Do whatever you want.” Harry closed his eyes and focused on all the delicious, free alcohol he was about to drink.

Laughing, Dean said, “You’re gonna regret saying that. Now open your mouth big and wide for me.” Harry did so, and he enlarged Harry’s canines with a spell. “How do they feel?”

Harry had a hard time closing his mouth. He ran his tongue over the distended teeth. “Weird. But I think it’ll be okay.”

“Brilliant!” Dean beamed. “Put your cape on and get a look at yourself in the mirror!”

Trying not to feel like a total knob, Harry threw on the cape and finally glimpsed himself. “Blimey.” He looked pretty scary; his face was ashen with deep shadows under his eyes; glistening blood dripped from his mouth and splattered his lapels; his gaze was charmed to be black and pupil-less.

“Yeah?” Dean looked almost fanatic.

“Thanths!” Harry said, then groaned. “No! I can’t have a listhp!”

Dean shrugged. “It’s only for tonight.” Harry groaned again.

They went up to the ballroom. Harry had always thought any Ministry event would be the epitome of sophistication and elegance, but for Halloween everyone was perfectly willing to throw out their fancy dress robes for cheesy costumes.

Black velvet draped from the walls, a mass of candlesticks floating above heads. Some semi-popular band was rocking out on the stage upfront. Ghosts trotted past on horseback and a group of werewolves loitered at the buffet table, growling at guests who tried to come closer. Intricately carved pumpkins crowned the dining tables; Harry knew from past years that each contained a bowl of refreshing pumpkin juice.

Even Minister Shacklebolt had dressed up as King Tut, his golden headdress catching the light from all the sweating candles.

“Harry!” Shacklebolt exclaimed. “Come here, come here!”

Damnit, Harry thought, and went over to him with a hesitant smile on his face. “How have you been, Minister?”

Shacklebolt threw his arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Just great! I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

“Wonderful,” Harry said, frustrated that he didn’t even have a drink in his hand.

Shacklebolt led him to a man with thick eyeglasses and a mustache that looked like the tail of a fluffy tabby. “Harry—this is Humbert Munoz. He’s the CEO of Wizarding Wireless Worldwide. He’s agreed to broadcast a series on the Ministry’s success at rebuilding infrastructure since the war.”

Munoz yanked Harry’s arm into a handshake. He had a smile like a shark. “Mr Potter! What an honor to meet you!”

“Thank you,” Harry said, hoping he was hiding his annoyance. “Ith’s an honor to meet you as well.”

“Ha! I might’ve built the largest wizarding communication network in Britain from scratch, but I didn’t defeat the Dark Lord!” Munoz wheezed a laugh.

Harry flinched. “Yes . . . well.” He always struggled to talk to strangers about what he did during the war, and it only became more difficult as time wore on.

Munoz lowered his voice. “Do tell: When do you plan to have a go at Head Auror? W3 would be delighted to help with any publicity or campaign needs. Our own Turt Tottington—he’s the host of our network’s most popular daytime talk show—would love to sit down for an interview with you!”

“Um . . . thath’s very kind of you and Mr Tottington.” Harry wanted to flee. “Excuse me, I see somebody I need to speak to in private.” He made a beeline for Hermione and Ron.

“My god!” Hermione said when she spotted him. “Your eyes!”

He frowned at her before he remembered. “Yeah . . . courtesy of Dean.”

She took out her wand. “Please . . . let me put them back to normal. I don’t think I can have a conversation with you looking like that.”

Shrugging, he said, “Okay.” She hit him with a couple of spells.

Ron huffed. “She can’t have a conversation if you have black eyes, but I look like a rotting potato and she’s just fine with it!”

“The screws in your neck are cool,” Harry said, quite impressed by Ron’s costume. Yes, his greyish green face reminded of something rotten, but Hermione had done a terrific job at making it seem like Ron had mismatched pieces of skin and a forehead like a shovel blade.

“Yeah?” Ron cheered up, and then cried out: “It’s ALIVE!

“Frankenstein’s monster never said that, darling,” Hermione said. “You are thinking about Victor Frankenstein.”

Ron flapped his hand. “Same thing.”

“What are you two drinking?” Harry peered into their smoking goblets.

Ron took a large gulp and smacked his lips. “Not sure. I think I’m tasting pumpkin juice and gin.”

“I saw the bartender adding some Green Chartreuse too.” Hermione itched furiously at her black wig. “I paid good money for this thing and it’s making me feel like I have a headful of ants!”

“You look great, though,” Harry said.

She beamed. “Good.” Nasty stitches slashed beneath her chin, her eyebrows drawn like hastily thin checkmarks. Her wig was pulled back in a knotted beehive, thick white waves curling up from her temples.

They moved to the bar so Harry could get himself a steaming goblet. The bartender was a tall vampire with stingy black hair. Harry flushed and didn’t look at him as he ordered. The vampire reminded him too much of the smut he’d been reading in Blood Brothers.

Harry accepted his goblet and rushed away. Ron and Hermione followed him.

Hermione elbowed him. “If you’re still interested in vampires, you should ask him a few questions!”

“No! Heth’s working!” Harry took a deep gulp from his goblet to hide his nerves. “And anyway, I picked up some very handy books in Diagon Alley.”

“Oh? What have you learned?” she asked.

“Err . . .” Harry made sure Ron wasn’t listening. “Well, I haven’t really cracked open the informative ones . . . I’ve been disthracted by stuff thath’s . . . more entertaining.” Very distracted. So distracted that last night his hand had cramped up and he’d once again passed out covered in his own mess.

Hermione rolled her eyes and smiled. “Fine. I’ll stop asking you about it. Just keep me updated on the whole Malfoy business.”

“Will do,” he said, trying not to blush again.

There was a lull in the music and the bandleader addressed the crowd: “Here’s a song for all the Muggle lovers out there: the Monster Mash!”

Hermione squealed and tugged at Ron’s hand. “Come on! We HAVE to dance to this!”

Ron groaned and let himself be pulled to the dancefloor. Grinning, Harry watched as they flapped their out-stretched arms and stomped zombie-like to the beat. At least Hermione did this; Ron just kind of bounced in place.

Harry finished his drink and headed to the bar to get another one, but a shock of white-blond hair caught his eye. He stilled. Surely it couldn’t be?

Craning his neck to look around people, he saw that it was in fact Malfoy. His stomach lurched nervously. His feet were moving in Malfoy’s direction before he’d even made a decision.

“Hello,” he said to Malfoy’s back.

Malfoy turned. His eyes widened. “Oh, it’s you.”

“What are you doing here?” Harry flinched. The question sounded a bit too hostile.

“I’m working.” Malfoy smiled faintly, his tone all sarcasm.

Harry was confused. “What have they got you doing?”

Malfoy mimicked Dracula by hissing and shielding his face with his cloak. “I’m part of the decoration. People are always hiring vampires to spice up their boring parties. We’re the centerpiece that walks around and intimidates the guests.”

Harry looked around. “Who are you going to intimidate here?”

“You perhaps.” Malfoy laughed and dropped his cloak. He scowled. “I was meant to throw my weight around at these stupid parties. To wine and dine influential wizards. To be sought after by the Ministry for my wealth and power. Now I’m nothing but the freak show.”

“No you’re not!”

Malfoy laughed again. “Merlin, I hate this. I want to burn this whole place to the ground.”

Harry ignored the last bit. “Why do you keep taking these jobs if you hate it?”

Malfoy sneered. “Haven’t you heard? I’m poor now.”

“Oh.” Harry didn’t really know what to say. “I guess thath’s not so bad.”

“I used to think I rather be dead than poor. I had no idea it was possible to be both.”

“But at leasth you get to fuck hot men,” Harry said, thinking about his smutty book.

Malfoy brightened. “That’s true.” He paused. “You look ridiculous by the way.”

Harry groaned. “The teeth make me listhp.”

“Here—let me.” Malfoy gently held his chin and spelled his canines back to normal. His hand lingered. He stared into Harry’s eyes.

“Thanks,” Harry whispered. He was unable to look away. “Can you go somewhere more private?”

Malfoy cocked an eyebrow. “Like the toilet?” His gaze flickered to Harry’s neck.

“Yes . . . or downstairs somewhere? I know a lot of the alcoves around here.”

“Hmm . . . perhaps.”

“Great!” Harry took his cold hand and dragged him to the door. They paused in the corridor.

Malfoy looked entirely too amused. “You can let go of my hand, you know.”

“I don’t want to,” Harry said, making himself shiver. “Right. Let’s go down here . . . if I remember correctly . . .”

Malfoy kept up with his steps. “It’s very important for the Chosen One not to be seen with a vampire.”

“I don’t care what other people think. Surely you know that by now.” Harry pulled them into a deep alcove; there was light, but the candelabra had melted down a great deal.

Malfoy took his hand back and glanced around. “Why are we here?”

Shrugging, Harry said, “I dunno. I wanted to talk to you in private.”

“Right,” Malfoy said. “This has nothing to do with you wanting some vampire arse?”

Harry gulped. “It has everything to do with me wanting some vampire arse.” He tried staring confidently into Malfoy’s grey eyes.

Malfoy huffed. “I’m still not interested in shagging a virgin.”

“I don’t believe that.” Harry did his best to smirk. He could do this. Be confident. “Last time you offered before you even knew anything about . . . my experience.”

“I was desperate and thirsty!”

“Are you saying there’s nothing about me that gets you hard?” Harry crowded him against the wall, loving that he got the chance to do this to Malfoy. “You’d never want my hot cock in your hand or mouth or filling your dripping arse?”

Malfoy moaned softly. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing. His mouth was open a bit, his fangs so very white.

“Potter—I don’t think—”

“What if I dropped to my knees and sucked you right here?”

Malfoy whimpered.

“Look at me,” Harry said. When Malfoy complied, he slowly, confidently, slid to the ground. Malfoy’s gaze went wide.

“Show me your cock,” Harry said, pleased that his voice remained steady.

Malfoy hesitated. “I don’t think I can do this without biting you . . . the temptation is too strong.”

“You can bite me.”

Malfoy’s expression was strained. He seemed to be struggling with something. With shaking hands, he pulled down his trousers to reveal his cock.

Harry stared. His cock was half-hard, but the head wasn’t flushed with blood. It was very pale. Malfoy fisted his trousers as he waited for Harry’s reaction.

Harry was breathless. He shuffled forward. “Can I taste you?” He flinched. Just fucking do it!

“Yeah,” Malfoy whispered.

Harry wrapped his lips around Malfoy’s cockhead. He sucked gently and looked up to watch Malfoy’s face.

Malfoy’s head thudded against the wall. He moaned. “Merlin—your mouth’s scorching.”

Harry took him deeper, sucking and flicking his tongue. He thought Malfoy would be tasteless, but his mouth filled with the tang of pre-come. Harry moaned. Holy fuck. He had a cock inside him. He had Malfoy’s cock inside him.

Malfoy babbled something. He carded his fingers through Harry’s unruly hair.

Harry didn’t really know what he was doing, so he mimicked what girls had done to him. He pumped Malfoy with his fist and bobbed his head, not caring that saliva dribbled from his lips.

“Fuck,” Malfoy moaned. He tightened his fingers in Harry’s hair and thrust a little into his mouth. God, Malfoy had gotten so fucking hard.

He couldn’t say why he did it, but he dropped his hands and relaxed his neck. He let Malfoy control his head. Malfoy held him in place as he thrust hard, swiftly. Harry choked.

“All right?” Malfoy panted.

In response, Harry took him as deeply as possible. He gagged but didn’t come up.

Malfoy was trembling so hard. He thrust into Harry’s mouth again, holding him down. “Fucking—take me. Yeah—like that.”

Harry whimpered. He couldn’t really breathe. He wished he could take Malfoy even deeper; he wanted to drain Malfoy dry.

Malfoy released him and slumped against the wall. “Fuck your mouth on my cock.” Harry caught his breath, then sank back down on Malfoy’s wet cock. He bobbed his head as quickly as he could, his eyelids flickering, not aware that his moaning was loud and continuous.

Pre-come gushed into his mouth. He felt Malfoy twitch against his tongue. Sensing Malfoy was close, he massaged Malfoy’s bollocks and sucked hard.

“Coming—fuck—I’m—” Malfoy cried out and thrust roughly, his fingers clawing painfully at Harry’s hair. He shot down Harry’s throat; Harry tried swallowing all his come, but there was too much and it escaped his mouth with strings of his drool.

Malfoy collapsed against the wall, panting. He looked frightened of Harry.

Harry grinned. “Enjoyable?”

“Bloody hell.” Malfoy wiped at his forehead, then frowned as he gazed at his hand. He seemed to remember that he didn’t need to breathe and became quite still.

Harry had been so focused on sucking Malfoy’s cock that he hadn’t really paid attention to his own arousal. His cock ached. He palmed himself, staring at Malfoy’s softened prick; he was sad that it wasn’t in his mouth anymore.

Malfoy glanced down. “You got fucking face paint on me!”

Snickering breathlessly, Harry said, “Are you gonna bite me now?” God, he wanted Malfoy to sink his teeth into him as he wanked himself.

Malfoy tucked his cock back into his pants and buttoned up his trousers. He was thinking hard about something. “Not here. The last thing I need is somebody thinking I attacked Harry fucking Potter.”

“Take me home then.” Harry scrambled to his feet.

Malfoy grimaced. “No, let’s go to yours.”

“Fine with me.” He cast a Patronus to deliver a message to Ron and Hermione: “I left with Malfoy. I promise I’m fine. DON’T COME OVER.”

“Sweet,” Malfoy said, sneering faintly.

Harry took his hand and dragged him down the corridor. When they approached the Ministry’s lobby, Malfoy yanked his hand away.

Harry raised his eyebrows. “The Floo good for you?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Malfoy was glancing around nervously.

“Nothing’s going to happen to you if you’re seen with me.”

Malfoy scoffed. “That’s what you think.”

Rolling his eyes, Harry headed for the arrival and departure corridor. They stepped into a Floo and Harry pulled Malfoy close. “Watch your elbows,” he murmured into Malfoy’s ear. Malfoy shivered. He threw down some powder and exclaimed, “Grimmauld Place!”

After a trip of whirling green and glimpses of people’s living rooms, they tumbled out the fireplace in the kitchen.

Malfoy looked around wildly. “This used to be my family’s!”


He glared at Harry. “Countless Black generations lived here and now it’s yours.”

“Correct.” Harry raised an eyebrow. “Got a problem?”

“Not as all.” Malfoy still drummed with anger. Harry didn’t know what to do, so he kissed him. His mouth was very cold; he parted his lips and Harry felt his fangs.

Breaking the kiss, Harry whispered, “Let’s take a shower. I’ll help you get the paint off your cock.”

Malfoy blinked, then nodded. Harry pulled him up to the living room.

“You want me to show you around?”

“No,” Malfoy said.

They ascended the creaking stairs and entered the hallway bathroom. Harry swished on the lights and the shower. He held his hand under the spray to gage the temperature.

Malfoy stripped off his clothes. He crossed his arms and waited for the shower to be ready. Harry checked out his naked body: Malfoy was so pale that he was nearly blue. Harry flicked the water from his hand and went over to Malfoy, pulling him into an embrace. He rubbed his back as if to warm him up.

Sighing, Malfoy buried his face in Harry’s neck and inhaled deeply. “Fuck—you smell so good.”

“Yeah?” Harry stepped away to undress. He hesitated before slipping off his pants. Malfoy stared at his cock. He circled Harry, his eyes dark and glittery.

“You look delicious,” Malfoy said.

Harry blushed and reached up to take off his glasses.

“No, leave them on.”

This made Harry blush even more. He stepped into the shower to hide it. Malfoy joined him. Moaning, Malfoy let the water cascade down his back, over his head, darkening his hair to a wheat yellow.

“You don’t realize how good warmth is until you don’t have it,” Malfoy said.

For the first time Harry was sad that Malfoy was dead. He thought Malfoy reveled in being a vampire, but there was something bittersweet about his tone.

Malfoy took up a flannel and a bar of soap, and gently washed off Harry’s face paint. His glasses were misting over, but he didn’t care.

When he was done, Harry pushed him against the tile wall and kissed him deeply. Malfoy moaned. Harry stroked his cock.

“You like my hand on your prick?” Harry asked.

Malfoy nodded and buried his face in Harry’s neck again, whimpering. He felt Malfoy getting harder and harder in his palm.

Harry tightened his fist and massaged Malfoy’s bollocks with his other hand.

“S-stop,” Malfoy said. “I’m going to come!”

“Do it,” Harry growled, quickening his pace. He kissed Malfoy again and swallowed his cry when he spurted between them.

It took a moment Malfoy to calm down. He blinked, then smiled at Harry lazily. Harry’s stomach fluttered.

“Fuck,” Malfoy said, laughing.

Harry grinned. He tried to move Malfoy’s hand to his cock but Malfoy resisted.

“Oh, no,” Malfoy said, suddenly looking predatory. “You’re going to come in my arse.”

Harry moaned; his cock jerked.

Malfoy turned off the shower and pulled Harry to the door.

“Wait—let’s dry off,” Harry said.

“No,” Malfoy answered. “Where’s your bedroom?”

“Last door on the right.” Harry let himself be pulled down the hallway. They entered his room; Harry waved on the light.

Malfoy shoved him onto the bed and crawled into his lap. He dragged a single finger down Harry’s cock. “You’re so damn hard.”

Harry thrust without meaning to. “We need . . . our wands,” he panted.

“No we don’t.” Malfoy smirked and concentrated on his palm. He cast a nonverbal and lube pooled in his hand.

Moaning, Harry fell back against his pillows. Fuck, it was finally going to happen for him. He was about to be inside a man.

Malfoy slicked up Harry’s cock and then sank two fingers into his arse. His eyes fluttered closed, his mouth falling open. Harry wished he could see what his fingers were doing. Instead he tweaked Malfoy’s pink nipples and caressed his hands down his chest, along his sides. Malfoy made a noise in his throat.

“Ready?” he said, gazing down at Harry.

Harry bit his lip and nodded. Malfoy reached behind him to line up, then he slowly worked Harry’s cock inside.

“God!” Harry threw his head back. Malfoy was cold, but so fucking tight. He couldn’t breathe it was so tight.

When Malfoy got him all the way inside, he gently raised his hips and sank back down. Harry cried out, his fingers scrapping at Malfoy’s thighs. He was going to come—there was nothing he could do—it was just too fucking much.

He whimpered and pulsed inside Malfoy, his whole body jerking. He began apologizing mid-orgasm. “Oh, fuck, I’m s-sorry. Oh, oh.”

Malfoy watched his face greedily. When Harry calmed down, Malfoy eased off to rest on his side. He kissed Harry, letting his fangs drag over his lips. Harry shuddered and exposed his neck.

“You can bite me now,” he whispered, his head still spinning from pleasure.

“Not yet.” Malfoy kissed down to his neck; he nibbled and sucked behind Harry’s ear.

“Malfoy,” Harry moaned, and then paused. It was so weird to say somebody’s last name during sex. He gulped and said: “Draco.”

Malfoy kissed him desperately. “Say my name again.”

“Draco,” Harry whispered.

Malfoy reached down to tug on his soft cock. “Again.”

Harry started to get hard. “Draco.

“Fuck, you gorgeous thing,” Malfoy said, kissing him. Their tongues brushed. Malfoy sped up his stroking.

Harry arched up and gritted his teeth. “Slow down. I’m already too close.”

Malfoy flipped them over so that Harry lay on him. He clawed at Harry’s back and whispered in his ear: “Put it back in me.”

“Okay,” Harry said dumbly. Malfoy Conjured some lube and slicked them both up again. Harry sat back to watch him work his fingers inside his arse. The show didn’t last long; Malfoy pulled out to grasp Harry’s cock.

“Come on,” Malfoy said. “I want to feel you again.”

Moaning, Harry lined up his cock. Fucking Malfoy in this position was more intimidating. Harry could see how small his hole was. Even though it was a bit loose, his arsehole still looked incredibly delicate. He slowly thrust inside, and gasped, thinking he could feel his old come drip out.

Malfoy’s eyes rolled back and his mouth fell open. “Faster . . .”

“Yeah,” Harry said, and started rocking his hips. God, Malfoy’s arse was taking him, opening up to him. Harry couldn’t focus; he was thrusting fast before he even knew it.

Malfoy pulled Harry flushed against him. He wrapped his long legs around Harry’s hips. “Harder!”

Harry tried to comply, but Malfoy gripped him so tightly, and his knees slid against the sheets. He opened his mouth to Malfoy’s cool shoulder, grunting.

“Now . . . I have to bite you now . . .”

“Yes,” Harry moaned. Malfoy mouthed along his neck, his cool tongue lapping at his pulse. Malfoy felt so good against his hot skin. He dragged his teeth up and down Harry’s neck until Harry was trembling from it; then he sank his fangs into him.

Harry cried out, the pain causing his hips to spasm. He didn’t really know what he was feeling. It hurt, but hot pleasure spark through him. Light flashed behind his eyelids; he felt like he was about to lose consciousness.

Malfoy held Harry’s head in place, grunting hungrily, his mouth slurping. He pulled Harry up into a sitting position so that he had better access to his neck. Harry’s cock slipped out but he didn’t even care. The cool, murky waves of unconsciousness washed over him.

Malfoy’s going to kill me, Harry thought, but he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Releasing Harry’s neck, Malfoy gently moved him onto his back. He slapped Harry’s face. “Don’t leave me yet.” Harry couldn’t open his eyes. Malfoy slapped him again. “Come on, Harry. Focus.

Harry blinked up at him. “Huh?”

“Look at me.” Malfoy stroked Harry’s cock. “You want to come? Yes? Then keep looking at me.”

Malfoy’s eyes were magnetic and bright with emotion. He kissed Harry with his wet mouth, and Harry tasted copper.

“Are you listening?” Malfoy asked. Harry’s eyes rolled a bit, and Malfoy grasped his chin. “Keep looking at me, dammit! Now, this is what’s going to happen: I will put my fangs back in you, tasting only a little, while I pump your cock as hard and fast as I can. You will explode in my hand and you will most likely faint. Please—don’t be afraid; I’ve got you.”

Harry didn’t know what he should be afraid about. All of that sounded fucking amazing.

“Ready?” Malfoy murmured. Harry nodded a little. Malfoy bit him again in the same place and his stroking of Harry’s cock sped up. Harry cried out. Oh, god. Somebody was whimpering; Harry didn’t know if it was him or Malfoy. Malfoy’s hand made slick, squelching noises, but it was soon drowned out by the ringing in Harry’s ears. His orgasm mounted quickly, almost painfully. He opened his mouth and screamed, his come splattering between them. Everything went black.

He woke up to Malfoy kissing him feverishly. He moaned a little and tried to kiss back, but Malfoy’s lips moved too quickly. He draped a weak arm over Malfoy’s shoulders, trying to anchor himself.

“Harry,” Malfoy whispered, and then kissed him again, and again. He wouldn’t stop kissing Harry.

When his lips began to ache and his lungs were desperate for breath, Harry pulled away and tried to focus his gaze on Malfoy.

“Wow.” Harry blinked. “Your mouth is all red.”

“I know.” Malfoy flopped down on his back and covered his face with an arm. “Merlin.”

Harry rolled to his side. “That was incredible.”

Snorting, Malfoy said, “Of course it was. You fucked a vampire.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Harry drew shapes on Malfoy’s stomach with his finger.

Malfoy lifted his arm to squint at him. “You guess?”

Shrugging, Harry said, “It was amazing because it was you, not because you’re a vampire.”

Malfoy frowned. “Really?”

Harry stared into his eyes. “You’re amazing. You’re bloody . . . perfect.”

“Sure.” Malfoy snorted. “I already know what you’re going to say.”

“You do?”

“Yeah . . . you’re going to say that I’m perfect because I’m a vampire. I tick all your kink boxes. I almost kill you and I give you brilliant orgasms.”

Now it was Harry’s turn to frown. “I was going to ask when we can see each other again.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Why? So I can meet you in semi-public places and drink your blood? So my deathly presence can make you feel alive? No thanks.” He went to sit up but Harry pushed him back down.

“I want you to come over again. I want to . . . I dunno . . . listen to the wireless with you. Talk Quidditch with you. I want to take you to the cinema or the museum or the park.”

Malfoy blinked at him. “What?”

“I’ve already talk to Hermione and Ron a little about you. Maybe we could all hang out sometime.”

“Ridiculous.” Malfoy scoffed. “They would never want to be around a vampire.”

“Why not? I want to be around you.”

“That’s different! You want to shag me.”

“Not all the time. Don’t roll your eyes. I want to get to know you.”

“There’s nothing to get to know!” Malfoy pushed him away and jumped out of bed. “Why the hell are you interested in me now when you were never interested in me before?”

Harry shrugged. “You seem like you’ve changed.”

Laughing, Malfoy said, “You don’t fucking say!”

“No—I mean that you seem like a better person. More grown up. More caring.”

Malfoy stilled. “You think I’m a better person? I’m a vampire!”

“Vampires can be good.” Harry stood to face Malfoy. “Please—I’m not joking. I want to see you again.”

Malfoy looked incredibly uncertain, almost frightened. “Are you saying you want to date me?” His voice was very quiet.

Harry smiled brightly. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.” He took Malfoy into his arms and kissed him gently. Malfoy melted against him, his hands clutching at Harry’s shoulders. The kiss held promise and messy, unsaid emotion. They both trembled.

“Merlin,” Malfoy gasped. He pressed his forehead to Harry’s.

Harry laughed, thinking about the stupid books he bought and the jar of gauzy balls he hadn’t even opened. He needed none of it. He only needed Malfoy in his arms.

The End