Harry did not stop backing away from Ron until he hit the wall where he slowly sank to the floor, breathing in short gasps as panic took away all rational though. Wrapping his arms around himself he curled into the smallest shape he could, head buried, and face hidden in shame. He had bitten Ron and he deserved anything he had coming. Dumbledore should just abandon him to the Ministry, he was a dark creature, and nothing was safe from him.

The recriminations flowed round and round his head, spiralling up and down, feeding his hatred of what he was. Loosing track of time and his surroundings his mind folded in on itself as instinct warred with horror for dominance. Ron would hate him, he had just killed the friendship that had held him together through so many things, and it was all his fault. They should lock him in Azkaban and throw away the key.

"Mr Potter," Snape's cool tones made it past his defences, but he could not seem to react.

If he did not move, he could not hurt anyone else he cared about.

"Is he alright?" Ron's concerned voice almost made an impression, but Harry decided it was wishful thinking.

"I believe, Mr Weasley," Snape replied evenly, "that Mr Potter is very far from alright. I believe you were instructed to leave."

"No bloody way," was Ron's emphatic response.

Now Harry knew he was hallucinating; he had hurt Ron, Ron must be long gone by now. A hand reached past his protective barrier of arms, and fingers fixed on his chin. He did not resist as he head was lifted. Blearily he stared straight ahead, aware of Snape looking at him critically, but with all his strength aimed at his internal struggle there was nothing left to let him interact.

"What's wrong with his eyes?" the figment of his imagination that was Ron, asked anxiously.

The snort from Snape indicated that he was unimpressed with the question.

"The pale yellow of the whites and the red streaks in the irises indicate vampire malnutrition," the Potions master explained none-the-less; "quite simply, Mr Weasley, Mr Potter is starving."

Harry would have been surprised if he had had the energy left to manage it.

"But I thought he was getting blood when he needed it," imaginary Ron sounded outraged.

"He was," Snape replied coolly, "obviously it was not enough."

The Potions master moved Harry's chin from one side to the other, Harry kept his eyes on the man in front of him.

"Mr Potter," Snape said firmly, "do you understand me?"

Harry could not let himself react, if he let himself move, he might do something else terrible and he could never allow that. All he could do was blink slowly and let his gaze stay on the dark eyes of the Potions master.

"Severus," the headmaster's voice entered the conversation, but Harry did not look away from his centre of attention, "can you ascertain the reason for Harry's predicament?"

"I cannot be certain, Headmaster," Snape replied evenly, "but I would conjecture that Mr Potter requires a live donor. Precious little is actually known about vampires and their habits and this reaction could be normal, or it may be the combination of creatures within him. In public vampires have been observed to drink blood like a human being would drink wine, but it does not appear to be sufficient to feed Mr Potter."

Harry found himself wanting to laugh at the rational conversation going on; he was evil, didn't they understand that? He had attacked his best friend, they should be preparing to lock him up forever, not talking about why.

"That would appear to complicate matters," Dumbledore said calmly.

"I'll do it," imaginary Ron was being so supportive that for a moment Harry almost let himself hope that he was real.

"Mr Weasley," Snape said acidly, "do you have any concept of what you are volunteering for?"

"He already bit me once," Ron replied with a note of annoyance in his voice, "if Harry needs more then I want to help him."

It occurred to Harry then that Snape must be a figment of his imagination as well, because he was talking to imaginary Ron; which probably meant this whole conversation was part of his insane hallucination. Why this had not occurred to him before he really didn't know, but he had obviously totally lost the plot.

"Mr Potter appears to need to feed once every three to four days," Snape pointed out, "one donor would not be enough. To be safe there would need to be four."

"At least I could help him now," imaginary Ron sounded stubborn.

Harry would have liked him to be real.

"Would it be safe for Ron to assist, Severus?" Dumbledore asked in his usual tone.

Harry didn't think Snape liked the idea from the expression on his face, but then this was all in his head so he thought he should really be surer of his facts.

"Mr Potter is in shock and he is starving," the Potions master replied; "it is impossible to be sure of anything at this time."

"I still want to help," imaginary Ron said firmly.

Letting his eyes drift, Harry decided that imaginary Ron really did appear to be exactly like the real Ron. He even had blood on his wrist that Harry's sharp nose could smell. Snape was looking at Ron as well and the potions master finally drew his wand.

"He appears to have entered a catatonic state," Snape said unhappily, "blood may wake him, or it may not, either way you will have to help him initially. I will reopen the wounds on your wrist, you tip his head back slightly and allow them to bleed into his mouth."

Imaginary Ron appeared very nervous at this, but he nodded anyway and knelt down when Snape indicated he should do so. Harry found the wrist that was offered in front of his face completely fascinating, but he could do nothing to reach out for it. His fangs were still descended, and they ached at what he could see and smell. He really was starving.

A whispered spell and the two red wounds became wet with fresh, coppery-smelling blood and yet there was a barrier of his own making between him and it. His mind was a cruel place to offer him such obviously unreal images.

It was funny, he had never expected an hallucination to be so solid. Snape was touching him and then Ron was touching him as well and there was no way they actually existed. Together they lifted his chin and then Ron brought his bleeding wrist to Harry's lips, allowing the blood to drip into his mouth.

The taste and the sense of Ron exploded in his mouth and in his brain and he felt his whole body convulse. In that moment he knew it was real and, in that moment, he knew what his best friend was willing to do for him. Even as his last tentative grip on reality fled and his consciousness dissolved into feeding, he was filled with such love and gratitude for his friend that he wanted to scream it at the top of his lungs.

~*~

Harry opened his eyes as he felt the mattress dip and he noted that it was dark. The whole room was a sequence of pitch-black patches and objects lined in silver as his eyes picked up the slightest traces of light and heat. He was lying on his side next to the right edge of the bed and someone had just climbed in behind him. Rolling over he found a familiar profile framed against the stars in the fake window.

"Go back to sleep," Draco said quietly. "Snape told me what happened, and I came as soon as I could. You need to rest. I'll be here if you need me."

Memories of the afternoon tried to make it into Harry's mind, but he was still too tired to think properly. As Draco's arm snaked over him and pulled him close, Harry closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.

~*~

Warm fresh blood poured into his mouth and it was so delicious and the sensations running through his body were so encompassing that he couldn't stop; didn't even want to. He just drank and drank until he couldn't drink anymore and finally sated, he pulled back. Blood dribbled down his chin in a small stream and he laughed his pleasure to the world before he looked down. It wasn't until he saw the body in his arms that reality made it into his mindset and Ron's pale, dead features etched themselves into his brain.

"Ron!" Harry found himself sitting in bed staring wildly around.

A gentle hand touched his shoulder and he whipped his gaze around to find Draco sitting up next to him.

"He's fine," his lover said calmly, "you didn't hurt him."

"I bit him," he whispered as if he almost didn't believe it.

Memories mixed with his dream and for a few moments he could not separate them as the images flew around his mind.

"Yes," Draco agreed with him, while rubbing gently at the back of his neck, "but you didn't hurt him. According to Snape you were starving; something about drinking from a cup did not satisfy your hunger, and Weasley was there when you finally broke. You took only a little and then you shut yourself down. Weasley called Dumbledore and then with Snape's help Weasley fed you. Do you remember?"

The real recollections were fuzzy in his brain, but Harry nodded as he managed to bring back some idea of what had happened. Ron had not run; he had attacked him and Ron had not run; Harry did not understand.

"He wanted to help me," he said, voicing his confusion, "but I attacked him. Why did he want to help me?"

Draco shook his head and rolled his eyes in exasperation Harry really couldn't fathom that either. His brain was not working too well, and he was confused.

"He's your friend, you idiot," his lover said gently, "he would follow you into fire if you asked. You Gryffindors can be dense, but you're loyal to a fault. Harry, just because you have been changed doesn't mean you deserve his loyalty even less."

"But I attacked him," Harry insisted.

There were limits to any friendship.

"You were starving," Draco replied pointedly. "Mark it up as a bump along the road to making you fit for civilised society and don't think about it too hard. Don't want to over tax that brain of yours, it hasn't been used much in the past and it might overheat."

It took Harry a moment to realise he had been insulted.

"Hey," he protested, indignation helping his thoughts to some semblance of normality, "I do think things through."

"Could have fooled me," Draco said with an arch of one elegant eyebrow.

Harry opened his mouth to protest again, but then realised he was being misdirected and the guilt hit him again.

"Everything is okay," Draco insisted seriously, "you stopped yourself doing any damage. You have more control over your dark side than you give yourself credit for."

"If I have so much control why did I attack him?" Harry countered.

His lover threw his arms in the air with an exasperated sigh and climbed out of bed.

"Which bit of 'you were starving' do you not understand you stupid Gryffindor?" Draco asked in a very frustrated tone.

The Slytherin stood beside the bed glaring at Harry and he could feel the annoyance coming off his lover in waves. Part of him informed him that Draco was very attractive when he was angry, which managed to distract him just a little from the guilt.

"He's really okay?" he asked quietly.

"Fit as a fairy on moon dust," Draco replied firmly. "Now, did you get enough yesterday, or are you still hungry?"

Harry examined his feelings at the question. He realised that the nagging feeling he was missing something, which had been bothering him for days, was completely gone. He had not recognised it for what it was before, but he was damn sure he would not misinterpret it again.

"Not hungry," he replied with certainty.

"Good," Draco said, his expression softening, "but let me know when you are again, because I'm here."

Part of the conversation between Snape and Ron came back to him at that point.

"Snape said there would have to be four to be safe," Harry quoted as he sifted the information out.

"Yes, well, I suspect you'll be surprised how easily that one is solved," Draco said enigmatically, "but for now, promise me you will tell me if you need anything."

There was a very stubborn expression on his lover's face and Harry knew that he would get away with nothing less than agreeing, so he nodded. That, at least, seemed to satisfy the suddenly bossy Slytherin. When Harry had gone from total domination to an equal partner in this relationship, he was not sure, but no matter how possessive he felt, he realised that Draco seemed to have a similar stake in whatever was between them now.

"Right, well, whatever you did to stop yourself hurting Weasley, it was not good for you," Draco continued efficiently, "breakfast first and then we can laze around for the rest of the morning. Snape said he would make sure there were no interruptions until at least lunch."

His lover turned and walked towards where the table was usually set up for meals and Harry could not help admiring the shapely behind in silk pyjamas. Draco seemed to think that he was in charge this morning, but with his equilibrium rapidly returning, Harry didn't think that he was going to let that stay for long.

Okay so he was not hungry in any supernatural sense, technically, but if they had all morning, they had plenty of time for breakfast and he rather fancied satisfying other urges. With a grin he climbed gracefully off the bed and tried to decide to which surface he was going to pin his lover.