Neville stepped into the room looking a little awkward, so Harry gave his friend what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He could never be quite sure these days if he looked pleasant or demonic.

"Um, the portrait said I should just come in," his fellow Gryffindor said nervously.

"Yeah," Harry replied, trying to decide if it would make Nev feel better if he walked towards him or whether it would put his friend off even more, "Jeremy will let you in whenever you visit unless I'm really busy with something."

It had taken a lot for Harry to make that decision, but his first visit with his friends had left him feeling it was necessary. Since then it seemed to be working.

"Oh," Neville replied sounding quite surprised.

Finally deciding that the pair of them hovering on either side of the room was making the whole situation worse, Harry walked over to his friend.

"Easier that way, don't you think," he said as cheerfully as he could manage.

His companion nodded and looked around the room.

"You have windows," Neville commented, shocked again.

"Hermione's idea," Harry explained with a grin, "you know what she's like when she gets an idea in her head. Took us an hour to get them right when she and Ron came over this morning; she decided I needed some natural light, so we spent our time asking the room to provide different types of windows."

Talking about other people seemed to help with Neville's nervousness, and Harry was pleased when some of the tension appeared to run out of his friend. He could still feel the anxiety running through the other Gryffindor, but it was dimming by the second.

"But don't you have trouble with light, what with..." Neville trailed off as if he suddenly realised, he might be broaching an uncomfortable subject.

"The vampire and other nocturnal creatures in me?" Harry supplied, hiding any trepidation the topic of conversation caused him. "Yeah, we had a few problems to begin with, but I'm not that sensitive to make it a real problem; it just makes my eyes hurt if it's too bright too long. Hermione played with some complicated filtering ideas to get everything right."

"We can always rely on Hermione, can't we?" his friend responded, obviously relieved he hadn't put his foot in it.

Harry laughed. He knew they could always rely on Hermione for several things, whether it was nagging about their homework, or the answer to the universe. It was so true that she was always there for all of them.

"You're making sure she's not working herself into a frenzy over this whole business, aren't you," he said, becoming serious for a moment. "I know she's probably trying to solve the puzzle that is me and this time I don't think there is a solution, so I'm relying on you and Ron to make sure Hermione doesn't kill herself trying."

"Ron confiscated her text books last night and made her play exploding snap," Nev said with a perfectly straight face, "she hexed him with green hair without him even noticing, didn't take it off until he apologised at breakfast," his friend confided, breaking into a grin. "You should have heard him when he saw himself in the mirror this morning, and Colin has pictures."

For a moment Harry just stood there as the mental images attempted to make sense in his brain, and then a laugh bubbled up from deep in his chest.

"Green?" he asked, not quite believing it.

Neville nodded.

"And they never said anything earlier," Harry said, grinning broadly.

"I think they've come to an understanding," his friend replied, much more relaxed now.

Harry could just imagine, that must have been a conversation to behold.

"So, what do you want to do?" he asked, changing the subject. "I'm afraid there's not a lot of options around here at the moment, but the room's quite good at coming up with things."

"Well actually I wanted to talk plants," Neville said, as if he was sorry to bring up the subject. "I have some ideas for Hermione and P...pro... Snape, but I need to know if you've ever had reactions to things in the past."

The seriousness of the subject matter surprised Harry and he could not help the slight disappointment he was feeling from reaching his face. Everything around him seemed to be so concentrated on him that he had been hoping for an hour or so of diversion.

"But," his friend continued seemingly without missing a beat, "that won't take long, and I think I'd like to try out the room first. Ron says it's wicked fun."

The change of track almost left Harry behind, but as he caught up, he grinned again.

"It is," he said with a laugh, "only you have to be very clear about what you want. Ron created the oddest looking sofa yesterday."

"I'm sure it was exactly what he was expecting," Neville said with mock seriousness.

"Yeah, sure," Harry replied, "he really wanted it yellow with pink spots. I think he's still traumatised by Lavender's flowers."

Now Nev laughed, long and hard.

~*~

Harry watched his queen smashing Ron's knight to a pulp with a small grin of pleasure; the harmless violence of the chess game appealed to both his dark side and his simple human competitiveness. He was never going to beat Ron, of that he was one hundred percent sure, but it was fun throwing caution to the wind and enjoying the destruction. He had not been feeling well after taking Snape's latest concoction around lunch time, and Ron's visit had been a welcome distraction.

"Harry," Ron complained good-naturedly, "are you actually thinking at all? You do know that I'm going to take your queen now, don't you?"

Harry just grinned and sat back in his chair, he really couldn't care less, and he was enjoying himself. By indulging his destructive tendencies, he had managed to lessen the churning in his stomach, which was a bonus to the joy of just playing at being normal.

There had still been a slight awkwardness when Ron had first arrived with his chess set in hand, as there had been with Neville the day before, but that had dissipated quickly, and Harry was very glad to have his friend back. It had been two days since the first visit and things seemed to be settling down.

The room was quite dim, with light from candles and there was a homely feel about the whole place. There was also a nice view out over the lake through the fake windows, of course, by now it was almost completely dark, what with it being late afternoon, Winter and Scotland, but it still added a nice illusion of space to the room.

Watching Ron reach out and move a rook to take Harry's queen, he found himself admiring the long line of freckled wrist that poked out of his friend's ratty old maroon jumper as Ron stretched to reach the pieces. So fragile and yet so full of life, small bones which could be snapped like twigs, but that fitted together to form such a capable structure. Each movement of muscle and sinew, tendon and skin held him fascinated as Ron placed his rook on the same square as the queen. Battle was joined and yet Harry found himself watching the retreating hand rather than the melee of destruction.

"Mate," Ron's voice broke through his reverie, "you in there?"

Harry blinked and looked up at his best friend's slightly worried expression.

"Your move," Ron prompted as Harry just sat there.

With a smile, he leant forward in his seat and picked up the nearest chess piece and moved it into battle range of one of his friend's pawns, towards his side of the board. That caused Ron to frown at the board and look at it very carefully, obviously trying to work out what Harry was up to. So far it had been a matter of battle at every opportunity, and the seemingly needless sacrifice of his piece had Ron confused. Of course, the oblivious red head could have no idea that Harry had chosen the move for no other reason than to see his friend stretch across the board once more.

He smiled as that pale wrist appeared from the jumper sleeve again. He could feel the beat of life running through his friend, and he let the sound reverberate through him. Such intoxicating humanity, calling to him with its rhythmic thudding. So easy to reach out and take. He closed his eyes, revelling in the sound.

"Harry?" Ron called him from his drifting once again.

When he opened his eyes he moved instantly, his hand reaching out to snag Ron's exposed wrist. His friend had frozen mid move and even Quidditch Keeper reflexes were not enough to save him from Harry's grab.

"What are you doing, Mate?" Ron was trying to sound calm, but the tremor in his voice made Harry's smile widen.

"It won't hurt, Ron," Harry said, staring straight into his friend's eyes, "I promise."

Ron's stare became slightly glassy as Harry held his gaze and his friend did not try and resist as he lifted the pale, freckled wrist towards his mouth. It took only moments for his fangs to descend as the frightened pounding of Ron's heart sang to him. His friend made no move to get away, his glazed eyes following what Harry was doing, but his expression remaining fixed and almost blank.

Only when Harry bit slowly into the soft yielding flesh and warm, sweet blood flowed into his mouth did Ron react, and the moan that came out of his friend's mouth was not one of pain. The trickle of raw magic that Harry was sending into Ron with the bite caused his companion to slump forward, barely allowing his friend to hold himself up on the edge of the table as Ron shuddered with pleasure. One of the reasons vampires could be even more dangerous to wizards than they were to Muggles was because their innate control of magic was so seductive to magical beings.

Harry had taken two delicious swallows when reality suddenly flicked back on in his head. He shied back instantly, tipping over his chair and sending chess pieces flying off the board as horror at what he was doing coursed through him. Ron looked up at him with a dazed expression and Harry backed away in pure terror of what he had done. He could taste his best friend's blood in his mouth, he could feel the essence of Ron on his lips—he was horrified and disgusted with himself.

Yet the vampire wanted more, Harry could sense the instincts clawing at his self-control and he continued to back away, shaking with the effort to leave his friend alone. How could he have hurt Ron; his best friend and the closest thing he had to a brother in the whole world? Nothing could excuse what he had just done, nothing. He was a despicable thing and he had betrayed a sacred trust.