Part 1:

When Malfoy shifted as if to move off the bed, Harry's instinctive reaction was to tighten his loose embrace and not let his bed partner go. Surprisingly that caused the Slytherin to laugh.

"I have to use the loo," Malfoy said and gently, but firmly moved Harry's arm.

It was another one of those moments when Harry was sharply aware that if he insisted in his
position, his companion would have no choice but to conform, and yet found himself letting the Slytherin have his way even though his reasoning in the situation had nothing to do with logic.

Watching Malfoy climb off the bed and saunter towards the bathroom in all his naked glory gave
Harry a nice view, but that wasn't why he let it happen either. It was almost as if Malfoy had a get out of jail free card, which the darker part of Harry found strangely disturbing and the human part couldn't quite understand.

"You should think about getting up as well," his companion said as he disappeared into the bathroom, "it is only lunch time after all."

At this, one little voice in his head told the world to go shove its rationality, another pointed out that during the day was a perfect time to be sleeping, and a third looked at the discarded books on the table and agreed that possibly Malfoy had a point. They had been lying around for a good half an hour since their rather satisfying tryst and Harry slowly stretched and climbed off the bed.

The shirt he was still partially wearing was crumpled and a little on the sticky side so he pulled it off and threw it at the basket in the corner.

He looked at the door of the bathroom and considered invading it as well since he wanted to be
clean, but then turned and walked to the desk, leaving Malfoy to his ablutions alone. Picking up his trousers and his underwear he laid them over the back of the chair and aimlessly glanced at the book he had discarded when his companion arrived, waiting for the Slytherin to finish whatever he was doing. The illustration on the open page was of a banshee mid wail, forever caught crying her grief to the world, and it was a mournful picture that filled him with a strange melancholy.

They had briefly studied banshees last year in DADA and about the only thing that had been important at the time was to avoid the creatures, and cast a silencing charm at the first opportunity if faced with one about to open her mouth.

Now he found that the creatures' fate to scream their pain was much more important to him and he ran a finger over the moving picture, wondering at how little the Wizarding world really
understood about magical creatures. When he finally moved, he turned and found Malfoy
watching him from the doorway of the bathroom. The Slytherin had a very contemplative
expression on his face and Harry could not help wondering what was going through his companion's mind.

"I never thought of you as someone who would be comfortable naked," Malfoy said eventually and wandered further into the room, looking around for his clothes.

Harry glanced down at himself and realised that he hadn't actually been thinking about it at all. He had thought about putting his clothes back on because the air in the room was slightly less warm than was comfortable without activity, but he really wasn't bothered otherwise. It occurred to him that this was quite odd considering the fact that he had not wanted to look at himself in the mirror, but he could not explain quite a lot of his mind at the moment so he didn't see why this should be any different.

"I wasn't," he admitted honestly, and walked towards the bathroom.

He was sure he would end up analysing what he was feeling sooner or later, since it was in his nature to brood, but right then he didn't feel like it and he simply wanted to be clean. He wandered into the smaller room and set about his immediate task, letting his mind drift away from serious thoughts as he became absorbed in what he was doing. Malfoy's curiosity could wait until later.

It was only as he stepped out of the bathroom again, clean to his own satisfaction that his thoughts clicked back on, and they were suddenly focused on only one thing. Malfoy was slowly pulling on his clothes and the glimpses of pale flesh in graceful motion high-jacked every sentient impulse in Harry's body. Motor function kicked back in after a moment and he discarded the towel he was using to dry himself off in favour of putting his fingers to better use on his lover.

He walked up behind Malfoy as the Slytherin was pulling on his shirt and he found his hands
moving without much conscious thought as he reached up and pulled the collar away from his companion's neck before Malfoy could begin to fasten any of the buttons. He ran one finger down the pale skin he revealed and continued to pull off the shirt with his other hand.

"You cannot still be hungry," Malfoy said, but did not pull his top back on.

"Wasn't hungry the last time," Harry said shortly, feeling the pull towards the Slytherin never the less.

"You certainly felt like you were," was the response as Harry removed the shirt completely again, running his hands over his lover's arms.

"Not the hunger," he said almost absently as his eyes ran over pale shoulders and back, "I find you irresistible."

Something was trying to attract his attention, something which was speaking to his instincts, but not his higher brain and it was definitely to do with Malfoy. He had not realised that his words might have an impact on the Slytherin until his companion turned and looked at him in quite a shocked manner.

"You are attracted to me without the hunger?" Malfoy sounded surprised and a little confused.

It occurred to Harry then that the Slytherin appeared to have convinced himself that the only
reason he was fixating on his lover was because of the incubus' needs, and while the incubus definitely drove his sexual appetite, it was not only his instincts which were guiding him. He didn't really understand it himself; after all, Malfoy had been his enemy for so long that any idea of an attraction between them, which was not based on extreme circumstances, was quite strange.

However, Harry could quite honestly say that his human nature was as attracted to Malfoy as his
dark nature, a fact which at one time might have horrified him, but which now simply puzzled
him. Whether the uninhibited nature of the beast within had allowed him to realise something which had previously passed him by, or whether his human nature was adapting to cope with his new situation, he had no idea, and he could not explain it to himself yet.

"Yes," he said simply and went back to what he was doing.

He walked behind the shocked Slytherin and took the opportunity to move in close, pressing his
bare chest against Malfoy's naked back. He smiled into his lover's hair as he ran his hands down Malfoy's arms again, encircling the Slytherin's wrists with his fingers and nuzzling at the beautiful long neck. Malfoy was motionless under his attentions, he did not resist, but neither did he encourage, but Harry was too wrapped up in the feeling of what he was doing to take much notice.

Lifting Malfoy's left arm he brought his lover's wrist to eye level, his gaze running along the pale,
elegant limb. It was inevitable that his attention would end up resting on the Dark Mark; black ugly lines etched onto alabaster skin, stating a claim even after death.

"He is not yours," Harry whispered as if Voldemort could still hear him, "he is mine."

The feeling of possession was all encompassing and hatred of the reminder of the Dark Lord
flared in Harry's chest. Before he could consciously decide what he was going to do, he moved
around his human once more and with a swift step he shifted them both across the room until Malfoy was pushed up against the wall. Harry pinned his lover there, left arm stretched out against the stone surface with his hand covering the offending mark.

"Never his," he said low in his throat, totally fixated on that one thought.

"Never his," Malfoy repeated, grey eyes looking directing into Harry's.

"Mine," Harry said firmly.

Malfoy did not reply this time, but neither did he flinch, nor look away. When Harry crushed his
lips to his lover's, the Slytherin responded immediately and Malfoy's mouth opened to be claimed by Harry's tongue.

'Mine': the word continued to repeat in Harry's mind like a mantra, consuming every other thought in its wake, demanding the universe acknowledge that it was true. He was so lost in the rhythm of the mental sound and the sweet taste of his lover's mouth the he did not feel the power building in him until is spilled out of his body.

The kiss broke the moment the magic burst its bonds and Malfoy's head went back to rest against the wall with a sound somewhere between a moan of ecstasy and a cry of pain. Their bodies were pushed together and Harry held firm as the Slytherin writhed against him; at that moment he was as incapable of moving as Malfoy was to stop reacting. The power flood out of him and into his lover as the mantra repeated over and over in his mind; Voldemort would retain no part of what was his.

When the magic finally ran dry, Harry slumped forward against the now panting Slytherin, resting his head on his lover's shoulder as his human did the same to him. Only the friction of the wall prevented them both sliding towards the ground and for long seconds they remained in that position, leaning against each other with the stone stopping them falling to the floor. Harry was not sure how to describe this latest experience, but he definitely felt as if he had been through a marathon session of something.

"I think I'd like to sit down," were Draco's quiet words, which finally drew him out of his daze, and he forced himself to stand up properly in response.

Grey eyes were looking at him in a rather dazed fashion, but slowly both their gazes moved to where Harry's hand was still covering his lover's arm. Almost as if he might see something terrible Harry tentatively uncurled his fingers and reluctantly pulled back his limb. A rather shocked gasp was the Slytherin's only reaction at first, as the pale limb was drawn in and examined.

"Draco, I..." and then Harry stopped as he realised what he had said.

The startled look on his lover's features as he glanced up was even more shocked than before. It
was then that Harry realised that not only had he changed Draco's Dark Mark so that only the
snake remained, curled gently around itself rather than sliding from a skull's mouth, but also
something fundamental had shifted inside his head. Where before there had been Malfoy, his
human, there was Draco; still his, but much more a person than simply the Prince of Slytherin. Malfoy was his lover; Draco had the possibility of being far more.

"What do you want from me?" Draco did not seem to be able to comprehend what was going on.

Harry stepped up to the Slytherin again and ran his fingers lightly over the new mark.

"A friend," he said quietly.

====

Sitting propped up on the bed with a book in his lap and his foot pressed up against the warmth of Draco's side, Harry felt almost content. The Slytherin was lying on his front reading a school textbook, and Harry found the way his lover scrunched up his forehead when he concentrated
adorable. The fact that Draco still hadn't done his shirt up and hence every time he moved gave Harry glimpses of pale flesh was an added bonus as well.

"Were you supposed to be anywhere this afternoon?" he asked eventually as it occurred to him
that it was a Wednesday (it had been so mad since he had been kidnapped that it was hard to believe it had been under five days ago).

"No," Draco replied absently, lost in his reading, "Dumbledore gave me today to adjust back into
the school routine. I start lessons tomorrow, well that is unless they call a national holiday or something, and then I have a make up timetable from hell. It seems the headmaster wants me to pass my N.E.W.T.s even though I might be in Azkaban before I can take them."

A small growl sounded in the back of Harry's throat at that idea and his companion finally looked up at him. The idea of anyone trying to take away his human, his Draco, set Harry completely on edge and he could not control the reaction. It occurred to him that the calming field did not appear to be working, but he could not care less as he concentrated on his lover.

"You never belonged to him," he said in a dangerously low tone, "and you never did anything."
Draco glanced down at the black snake on his wrist as Harry spoke and it was clear he was remembering what had occurred over an hour earlier. Harry felt a little embarrassed by his actions, but also perfectly justified in taking them.

"I am, however, a Malfoy," the Slytherin replied with practical logic, "and since my father is dead, the Ministry would very much like to make an example of the family. Mother never had the mark, which leaves me."

Slamming his book closed, Harry leant forward and stopped only millimetres from his lover.

"You are mine," he said firmly, "and I will protect you."

A smile played at the corners of Draco's mouth.

"You are still such a hero," the Slytherin said, and Harry did not know if it was a compliment or
an insult, "even with everything you are, at the core you belong to Gryffindor, and I suspect you always will."

He really didn't know what to say to that, but they were interrupted anyway by a quiet cough.

Looking over, Harry saw Jeremy in his frame shifting awkwardly.

"So sorry to interrupt once again," the portrait offered apologetically, "but there is another

Slytherin outside. He threatened to burn my canvas if I did not announce him."

"Tall, dark hair, hooked nose, wears black?" Draco asked chattily.

Jeremy nodded.

"Let him in," Harry said shortly, climbing off the bed.

Snape would not be here for a social visit.

"Aren't you going to put some more clothes on?" Draco asked, sliding his legs off the bed, but remaining elegantly posed as he came to a sitting position.

Looking down at himself, Harry noted the trousers slung low on his hips, and his bare chest and
feet, but could not find it in himself to be bothered. Knowing Snape he'd want to test something
anyway, so Harry shook his head. His sensibilities only caught up with his actions as the door opened and it occurred to him that Snape might find the whole situation embarrassing. As it was the Potions master entered the room carrying a small tray almost identical to the one he had had at Malfoy Manor and stopped dead as he saw Harry. Snape's eyes then moved from Harry to Draco and back again in a way that Harry's darker sense of humour found very amusing.

"Mr Malfoy," the head of Slytherin said evenly, "I do not remember you being given access to the corridor outside this room."

Draco nodded his head in respect.

"I was quite surprised as well, Sir," the younger Slytherin replied honestly. "I expected to have to try and break in, but the wards let me through."

It had not occurred to Harry what security measures might be in place to prevent people reaching his door, but the fact that the corridor was off limits did not really surprise him.

"Does the rest of the school know I'm in here?" he asked as the idea occurred to him.

"Of course," Snape said as if he was highly unimpressed with the fact, "it would be entirely impossible to keep a secret within these walls."

Harry, for once agreed with the derision; he was uncomfortable with the school being privy to his condition.

"Do they know?" he asked awkwardly.

"The school and the rest of the world have been told that you are suffering from the after effects of your imprisonment and your battle with Voldemort," the Potions master replied, finally walking further into the room. "Not exactly a lie, but not the complete truth either."

It did not escape Harry that Snape had so far refrained from asking why Draco was in the room. It had to be quite obvious what they had been doing, but it did not look as if the head of Slytherin was inclined to call either of them on their behaviour.

"I require another blood sample," Snape said efficiently, "the previous volume was not enough to complete my experiments."

Looking at the equipment on the tray, Harry had concluded as much, but he was also intrigued by the folded piece of parchment sitting beside the clear flask.

"What have you found out so far?" it was difficult to hide the trepidation in his voice.

"This," the Potions master replied and handed him the parchment. "Isolating the different magical signatures has been challenging and the creatures at the top of the list are those that have contributed physical properties as well. I took the opportunity of copying the sigils on your skin while you were unconscious, which should aid in the research."

At the comment Harry looked down at the ghostly marks he could see on his chest and managed to swallow the annoyance at the liberty Snape had taken. The Potions master was trying to help him and although it grated to be the focus of such clinical observation, he knew it was necessary.

Holding the parchment he thought about opening it, but part of him did not really want to know, and the rest, which was not sure what his reaction would be, rather felt that after Snape had gone would be a better time to read it. Folding it once more he slipped it into his pocket. Snape raised an eyebrow at the move, but did not comment.

"I would suggest you sit down," the Potions master said as he picked up the familiar rubberised band.

As he did as he was told and quietly allowed Snape access to his arm, Harry distracted himself
from his predicament by looking over to where Draco was sitting quietly on the bed, watching.

The Slytherin really was elegant; beautiful, yet very masculine, and Harry was quite surprised that he had never noticed it before the other night. Possibly, before the incubus had added to his character he had never thought like that. He had never been a very sexual person and his only girlfriend had been Cho, having had no time for such things when returning to school after Sirius' death. Quite frankly he had probably been the only boy in his year completely uninterested in sex, and now, well now things were just weird.

Draco watched him steadily for a few minutes and then slowly stood up. When his lover came
into range, Harry couldn't help himself and he reached out the arm that was not currently being
exsanguinated and ran his fingers down his lover's forearm in a need to simply touch. When he glanced back at Snape the man appeared confused, and Harry really couldn't blame him; he was confused himself. Logically he and Draco should want nothing to do with each other, and yet here they were. It was obvious that Snape would have liked to ask questions, but, being a true Slytherin, the Potions master held his tongue.

"I would suggest discretion," was the man's only word on the matter; "the Ministry would undoubtedly attempt to misconstrue any relationship between you."

"I agree, Professor," Draco replied, stepping closer to Harry as he spoke, "however, I find myself at a loss to be able to explain this."

Holding out his wrist the Slytherin exhibited what was left of his Dark Mark. Snape actually
showed his shock, looking down at his own wrist reflexively. The head of Slytherin covered his
reaction quickly, putting into place his usual mask, but Harry had seen enough to know that Snape was flabbergasted. After that it took even less time for the mask to change again and the expression on Snape's face was one of calculated cunning.

"Mr Malfoy," the head of Slytherin asked evenly, "how many Death Eaters were present at your initiation?"

"Five," Draco replied without hesitation, "it was a private gathering: My father, Aunt Bellatrix, Wormtail, Nott and Langborn. They are all dead except Wormtail and no one knows where he is."

Harry just about managed to hold on to the hiss of anger that threatened at the mention of
Wormtail. How the rat had escaped again was a mystery, but Voldemort's lackey was missing. If Harry ever caught up with him he was going to die very, very slowly.

"Then I believe, Mr Malfoy, we may have a workable solution to the charges levelled against
you," Snape said, his dark eyes glinting with glee in a way Harry had witnessed only a few times before. "The Ministry is attempting to prosecute you for collaborating with a known enemy of the crown, are they not?"

Draco nodded.

"The Dark Mark on my arm is on record," the Slytherin pointed out, "even if it has changed now; Caveo made very sure everything was documented."

At that, Snape smiled.

"But everyone knows, Mr Malfoy," the Potions master said in his usual understated, yet triumphant manner, "that the Dark Mark is impervious to any type of alteration or removal. Yours was obviously a very clever fake that even fooled the Dark Lord himself."

Harry smiled at that as well; he was beginning to enjoy being associated with Slytherins.

"But no one would believe me capable of such a fake," Draco pointed out, "and my father was openly in support of Voldemort. Who could create something that would fool the Dark Lord at his own ceremony?"

"Dumbledore," Harry said firmly.

Snape inclined his head in agreement; the Potions master appeared to have been thinking the same thing.

"Why?" Draco continued to play devil's advocate in a typically Slytherin, pessimistic manner.

Now Snape looked directly at Harry, as if considering something and Harry stared back steadily.
"Mr Potter," the Potions master said evenly, "would you lie to the Ministry for Mr Malfoy?"

"I think that's probably a better solution to tearing them into little tiny pieces," he replied openly, his hand curling protectively around Draco's wrist.

Snape's eyes did the flicking between him and Draco again and Harry could tell the Potions master was reassessing his opinion of them yet again. Merlin knew what the wizard was thinking, but Harry did not really care as long as the Head of Slytherin remained firmly on Draco's side.

"Then, Mr Potter," Snape said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "with the headmaster's agreement, I would suggest we use a cover story which will not only turn suspicion from Mr Malfoy, but also assist with the acceptance of your relationship currently."

Now all of Harry's attention was firmly focused on the man.

"You and Mr Malfoy have been involved since before the end of the sixth year," Snape explained
evenly. "You kept the relationship a secret from everyone except Dumbledore, knowing that it
would be used to exploit you both. Returning home for the Summer, you, Mr Malfoy, were aware that your father would make you join the Death Eaters, hence the fake mark, designed to become visible at the ceremony, and resemble and mimic the properties of the real Dark Mark until such time as Voldemort was destroyed. His influence took time to dissipate after his death and hence, your mark did not change until now. Your experiences after Mr Potter's changes led you both to deny that there was anything between you and this attitude only altered when Mr Malfoy's mark transformed. The story will undoubtedly leak to the press and will have witches wailing in the aisles about the romance of the whole thing."

Draco looked very impressed and Harry found himself agreeing whole heartedly with his lover's
assessment.

"Professor Snape," he said sincerely, feeling oddly like the awkward teenager he was supposed to be, "that's brilliant."

After his more than apparent enjoyment of the plotting, Snape had returned to his role as austere Potions master and Harry's comment caused merely a raised eyebrow. Tapping Harry's arm Snape removed the band and Harry was surprised to see that the flask was already full.

"You will of course have to work out the details between yourselves," the Potions master said evenly. "I will speak to the headmaster. No doubt such romantic notions will appeal to him."

Harry was not about to argue; his delight at the new plan was so great that it was almost enough to squelch the desire he had been harbouring to rend Auror Caveo limb from limb. As Snape turned to leave, Harry looked at Draco, and although his lover did not appear as enthusiastic about the whole idea he could tell that the Slytherin was intrigued. They were going to have a lot to talk about.

====

Nearly two hours later Harry finally let Draco leave. It had taken more willpower than he cared to admit to let the Slytherin go, but they had talked the new plan into the ground and Draco couldn't exactly stay locked up with him forever. After he'd chucked a few cushions and pillows around the room to appease the completely irrational annoyance at having to allow his human out of his sight, he went and sat back at the desk. Then and only then did he pull the parchment Snape had given him out of his pocket. It sat on the desk taunting him after he let it drop from his fingers; he was afraid to open it.

He knew he was a monster, but what other horrors would Snape's work reveal. How much magic had been forced into him over those forgotten two days? How many creatures lurked within him just waiting to show him their darkness?

It took him a good five minutes to squash the little voice that kept telling him it was better not to know; that he would find out if he needed to and that ignorance was often easier than knowledge.

Reaching out quickly, he unfolded the document and placed it flat in front of him, Snape's neat
handwriting leaping out to meet his gaze. Balling up his Gryffindor courage he began to read. The first four creatures listed were not unexpected: vampire; banshee; Dementor and werewolf, but the fifth caught his eye: shadow fae. He had no idea what one of those was, which rather
circumvented his fear with a healthy dose of curiosity. Turning to the book he had been reading before Draco arrived, he flicked to the index.

"Shadow fae," he read aloud, not caring that there was no one to hear him, "dark creature, related to a fairy. Feeds on the chemical reactions of a physical body in pain and can be found anywhere pain is being suffered by human or animal. These creatures are scavengers and rarely dangerous unless present in large numbers, when they will attack. They have the ability to become noncorporeal and pass through solid material, but are intolerant to light and may be dispersed by a simple Lumos spell. Basic wards will prevent them entering a building."

Well that explained his little trick with the door the night he had killed Voldemort and at least this creature didn't sound too bad. Picking up the list once more he continued down it: incubus,
boggart and basilisk were next, and then the last creature listed was another one that he
remembered vaguely from DADA: Ethologi, but he could not recall any details. Studiously he went back to the book.

"Ethologi, commonly known as doppelgangers are rare and extremely dangerous to magical
beings," he read slowly, not liking this one at all. "In their natural state these creatures appear as a black pool of liquid, but they have the power to mimic anything living with which they come into contact. They use this ability to hunt, taking on the form of something familiar to their prey and slowly draining the victim of magical energy. The shock to the system of being drained of all magic will kill most magical beings, including humans and recovery from a partial attack can take months. Being liquid based Ethologi are intolerant to fire and a flame spell will repel, although not kill, one."

Now he knew where the faint urge to draw the magic out of Dumbledore had come from, and how it was that his sense of magic seemed heightened. He only prayed that this creature's power within him never became as strong as those he had already used: he would not ever, under any circumstances knowingly drain anyone of magic; he would rather die first. Magic was very precious to Harry, and it was something to be treasured. The whole idea of the Ethologi made his skin crawl.

He sighed and closed the book; it could have been worse, at least the list wasn't longer. Briefly it occurred to him that the ability to mimic anyone and any thing could be useful, but he put the idea aside. If he tried to use a power that was not at the surface he might bring with it the creatures cravings, and while the desire to feed off of powerful magical sources was just a niggling urge it could become something much worse. Picking up the book he headed back to the bed and the other tome he had left lying around. Sitting down, leaning against the headboard he flicked to the index of the other book knowing it never hurt to have multiple sources; that much Hermione had drummed into him over the years.

====

"Harry Potter, Sir," a familiar, squeaky voice interrupted his contemplations and he looked to the side to see Dobby standing there looking rather worried, "Dobby is sorry to be disturbing you, but Headmaster Dumbledore is telling Dobby that if Harry Potter is not asking for food by the time the rest of the school is having dinner, Dobby is to go to Harry Potter and be offering his services."

Harry blinked at the house elf in surprise; it was dinner time? He had thought it was only about four o'clock. Adding up the time in his mind he realised it had to be much later than that because Draco had been with him for a considerable length of time.

"Oh, thanks, Dobby," he said a little absently, his mind still on what he was reading, "anything will be fine."

The house elf beamed at being accepted and disappeared with a soft pop just as Harry caught up with what he had said. With a sinking feeling he realised that he was probably going to end up with enough food to feed an army, and he wasn't really that hungry. He'd also answered without remembering that there was a large amount of things that he couldn't eat any more. Just as he was trying to figure out how to explain to the house elf why he wasn't eating everything put in front of him without insulting the poor creature, Dobby popped back in again.

"Dobby is just remembering, Harry Potter, Sir," the elf said cheerfully, "Headmaster Dumbledore
is also explaining how Harry Potter can no longer eat all of his favourites. Dobby is wondering if Harry Potter could be a bit more specific about what he is liking?"

"I'm sorry, Dobby," Harry apologised quickly, "I wasn't really paying attention. Anything meat
based would be fine, but no pastry if possible. Green veggies are good, but anything else is hit or
miss. As for pudding, I have this real thing for custard, but I can't seem to eat anything that goes with it; ice cream is good too."

The elf nodded sagely.

"Dobby will be bringing Harry Potter a selection," Dobby said seriously, "that way next time

Dobby will be knowing what Harry Potter likes."

"Thank you," Harry replied with genuine gratitude.

The elf disappeared a second time and discovering that his foot had gone numb; Harry decided it was time to get up and move around a bit. A trip to the loo wouldn't be amiss either and he
quickly busied himself with preparing for dinner. It was as he was pulling on a T-shirt that
Jeremy's familiar throat-clearing attracted his attention. After Draco had left he had instructed the portrait to announce anyone that came to the door, at which point he would decided if they could come in or not. It was easier than having the poor man threatened every time a Slytherin dropped by.

"Yes, Jeremy," Harry asked politely.

"Headmaster Dumbledore requests a few moments of your time," the portrait replied efficiently,

"should I let him in?"

"Yes thank you," Harry replied, although on the inside he was dreading the visit.

It was one thing to know that the crafty old wizard had known that Draco would be visiting, the
wards letting the Slytherin through making that much obvious, but to have to talk about that and other things was not a comforting idea. Dumbledore would be kind, and considerate and supportive, but at times Harry preferred Snape's straightforwardness to the headmaster's concern.

However the moment Dumbledore stepped into the room, Harry forgot about just about
everything as his attention focused solely on the covered something that the headmaster was carrying in his right hand.

The vague unease at being in the presence of such a magically gifted individual was dwarfed as his nose twitched and his teeth ached; he could smell blood and his vampire aspect had sat up and taken notice.

"Good evening, Harry," Dumbledore greeted pleasantly, "I do hope you don't mind, but I asked Dobby to inform me when he would be bringing you your evening meal."

"Hello," Harry managed to say, although what he really wanted to do was launch himself at the headmaster and take whatever was under the cloth.

"I do hope you are settling in," the older wizard continued conversationally. "Professor Snape
informed me of his previous visit and what you did for Mr Malfoy; an ingenious plan I must
admit. Under normal circumstances I would never condone falsifying such an important matter,
but I must admit to perceiving that the Ministry may be attempting to make an example of the Malfoy family, although Lucius has already paid the ultimate price."

The smell was driving Harry crazy and he could barely hold himself still; it was only as
Dumbledore smiled at him with something more than the usual twinkle in his eye that Harry
realised the headmaster knew exactly what he was doing. In a flash of insight that rarely ever
happened to him, Harry became aware that he was being tested. Part of him was furious and
demanded to be set free, but this time his human nature won and he pushed the instincts down.
Dumbledore appeared pleased as if the headmaster was completely aware of Harry's internal struggle, and approved of the outcome.

"Professor Snape is an ingenious man," Harry said without the slightest trace of sarcasm; it was a truth he had taken a long time to see.

With a nod Dumbledore placed whatever he was carrying on the desk and calmly conjured
himself a chair. Another test, Harry was sure of it as his control was tried yet again; this time he
had wanted to react to the magic and the possible danger it represented, but biting his lip he did not even let loose the animalistic growl that threatened. The casual bravery the headmaster
employed as he all but faced down the darkest creature ever known to wizard kind was actually quite astounding.

"This is for you," Dumbledore finally said as if they both didn't know what he had been doing.

Pulling off the cloth the headmaster revealed a goblet full of deep red liquid.

"I understand that Mr Malfoy has, shall we say, volunteered to assist with your other known
needs," Dumbledore said chattily, which would have made Harry blush to the roots of his hair if
he had not been quite so fixated on the blood, "but I believe it would be prudent to avoid first
person donation for your vampire tendencies. Professor Snape's tests confirm that you are in no
way contagious, but we do not want any accidents. Several Gryffindors have volunteered to give
blood on your behalf, although they are unaware of exactly why, and Madame Pomfrey recommends you should drink once every other day to avoid any chance of the hunger returning."

Harry was almost vibrating as he held on to his control and prevented himself pouncing on the goblet. It was with the utmost care that he walked the final few feet to the desk and shakily picked up the vessel. It smelt like nectar from heaven and he could not hold back anymore. His fangs descended in response and the first mouthful sent the most wonderful sensations all over his body.

Had he been alone he would have groaned, as it was he managed to stifle his reaction into a
breathy gasp. After that he couldn't stop, and he tipped the goblet back, drinking greedily as the velvety liquid flowed down his throat. Normal food just couldn't compare anymore; this was more than sustenance, it was life; and yet, when he finally placed the goblet back on the table, every drop gone, there was a fraction of a second when it felt as if something was missing.

"Everything all right, Harry?" Dumbledore asked calmly as he stared at the cup trying to isolate the fleeting sensation.

"Um, what?" Harry responded, rather dazed at his reaction, "oh, yes, I'm fine, thank you. That was just a little intense."

The headmaster's response was his usual benevolent smile and Harry had no doubt his entire
performance had been catalogued for posterity. It was then that he remembered that the calming field he was sure had been in place before did not appear to have been working all day.

"Did you remove the calming charm that was on the room?" he asked curiously.

"Yes, Harry," the headmaster replied lightly, "I felt it necessary to assist with your transition to
here, however, I am a strong believer in not allowing oneself to become reliant on artificial means of support."

He had not expected quite such a straight forward answer, but he could not ignore the logic of it.
Nodding slowly in agreement he glanced at the goblet one more time as he went over what he had been feeling as he had drunk the blood.

"Would you mind terribly if I joined you for dinner, My Boy?" Dumbledore asked politely. "I
believe there are some things we need to discus and if you are willing, now would seem an appropriate time."

Harry was in two minds as to whether he really wanted to have this conversation, but he knew which the sensible, adult answer was, and he reluctantly nodded. He sat down at the desk just as Dobby reappeared and then suddenly there was a table between him and the headmaster, covered in food.

"Thank you, Dobby," Dumbledore said cheerfully, before Harry recovered from his surprise,

"You have outdone yourself. Please carry our thanks to the kitchen elves."

The house elf disappeared with a huge smile. It was all Harry could do not to stare at the table:
even at the school feasts he didn't think he had seen so much food crammed into one place.

"I think I should have been more specific," he said rather lamely.

"Perhaps it would be a good idea to eat while it's hot," the headmaster suggested with a smile and handed Harry a plate.

The blood had settled in Harry's stomach nicely and he was quite surprised to find that he did
actually feel hungry in a very human way now, rather than anything else. He was beginning to suspect that the headmaster knew exactly what he was about, and he really didn't feel like second guessing his mentor. Accepting the plate, he decided that Dumbledore could test him all he liked; nothing he could do would stop it so he might as well just let it happen. Knowing that he was being watched, he ignored the headmaster for a while and set about deciding what he could and could not eat from the incredible spread in front of him. In the end he sat back with a nice helping of some sort of stew, some green beans and a large helping of carrots, and Dumbledore had chosen an eclectic mix of shepherds pie, sprouts and a large stick of celery he was using instead of a fork, chewing the end off when he felt like it. They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes and Harry felt himself starting to relax, despite his anxiety.

"Well, Harry," Dumbledore said eventually as he reached for a second stick of celery, "I think
perhaps we should consider you continuing your lessons, we wouldn't want you to fall too far behind."

That confused the magic out of Harry and pushed all thoughts of eating from his mind, he froze, mid bite.

"Um, how?" he asked openly. "I can't leave here and I don't have a wand."

"Ah, yes," the headmaster replied, fishing in his pocket in a superb impression of a forgetful old man, which Harry knew for a fact he most definitely was not, "I believe this is yours."

With a flourish Dumbledore held out Harry's wand and all he could do was stare at it as if it might bite. So many reasons for him not to take it jumped into his head that they clashed with the part of him that was completely delighted and immobilized him into complete inaction.

"Where did you find it?" he eventually managed to ask, delaying the moment when he would have to reach out and accept it back.

It was such a powerful thing to give a wizard a wand and Harry knew he was dangerous enough
as it was, without giving him another weapon. The wand was like part of him, had been since he was eleven, but he was no longer sure how large a piece of him was fit to accept it.

"Tom had it hidden in the chamber where he died," Dumbledore explained patiently; "under his chair to be precise. It was warded, but I retrieved it before the Aurors arrived."

It did not surprise him that the headmaster had had his wand all the time, but it did surprise him that he was being given it back. He had had no expectations of being allowed to be a real wizard any time soon, if ever.

"I'm not safe," Harry said in little more than a whisper, although it caused him great pain to try and refuse the return.

"Your magic has changed, Harry," Dumbledore said kindly, "and the longer you are without your
wand, the more difficult it will be for you to take it back. I know you are afraid of yourself, My
Boy, you have much which challenges your control, but I am sure you will come through this.

With the support of those of us fortunate enough to look upon you as family, you will return to us; maybe not quite the same, but never-the-less, whole."

The faith of an old wizard could seem to some such an insignificant thing, but it took Harry's breath away. With a shaking hand he placed his plate back on the table and slowly reached out to take back his wand. It was like putting on a warm glove as his fingers curled around the wooden shaft and he felt energy shoot up his arm. There was no pain or electric shock with the wand rejecting him, just the comfortable feeling of finding a part of himself that he had lost, and a half laugh, half sob erupted from his mouth before he could stop it. So many things had changed, he was so different he was not sure anyone would understand, but this, this was still his and he did not know whether to laugh or cry.

"It is a hard thing to lose a wand," the headmaster said sagely, "but it is such a beautiful thing to find one again."

"Thank you," was all Harry could find to say as he cradled the wand to him, almost as if it was a child.

They did not speak for a long time as Harry lost himself in the moment. Eventually he looked up
and over at the desk; there was one more thing he needed to do. With a swish and a flick he pointed the wand at one of the smaller books.

"Wingardium Leviosa," he said calmly and the spell launched from the tip of his wand.The book bounced off the ceiling.

"Oh hell," Harry said quite distinctly.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said pleasantly, "perhaps it would be fortuitous to regulate the power behind the spell just a little more."

Harry just gave Dumbledore a look for that comment. It occurred to him then that Voldemort
could have had no concept of what he was going to create, if the Dark Lord had known that
Harry's wizarding power would increase so significantly he would have been a fool to allow it to
happen. Even insane dark wizards knew that you didn't create something more powerful than
yourself.

After that, they made it to pudding without further incident, chatting about inane things like the
last house Quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, and the state of the East Tower
after having been hit by a class worth of freezing charms when Professor Flitwick had taken his
third year lesson outside. It was all really quite pleasant, which was why Harry's defences were low when Dumbledore decided to become serious again.

"About your friends, Harry." He dropped the apple he had just picked up as the headmaster spoke.

Hermione, Ron, Neville and the rest were a subject he had been attempting not to think about; he didn't know what they knew and he definitely didn't want to have to consider how they would react. As far as he was concerned it was better for all parties if they stayed as far away as possible and dissociated themselves with him.

"What about them?" he asked, trying to keep his voice cold and emotionless.

"They wish to see you," Dumbledore said sympathetically, but in a tone that suggested to Harry
he felt this was very important; "they have been most anxious since your abduction. Mr Weasley
insisted on leaving the hospital wing before he was fully recovered in order that he could be with Miss Granger waiting for news of you."

"Ron was hurt?" guilt welled up in Harry as he realised he had been so wrapped up in his own problems that he had no idea what had happened to his friends.

He had asked Dumbledore if they were all right when they had spoken at Malfoy Manor, but he
had gone no further with his enquiries. Ron had been with him during the attack; it was really blindingly obvious that his best friend could have been hurt. For a moment he felt a little resentful that Dumbledore had not told him everything at their first meeting, but logic quickly informed him that he had been in no state of mind to deal with the details at that point.

"He was assaulted by a rather nasty blasting hex," the headmaster replied. "The wall which
stopped his progress was, I believe his exact words were 'bloody hard', and he sustained some nasty bruising and several broken bones. Madame Pomfrey patched him up in her usual proficient fashion, and I believe he has only one bandage remaining to show for his war wounds. Miss Granger has been making a suitable fuss of him."

Harry could just imagine; Hermione was incredibly practical, but when it came to her friends
being hurt, she had been known to go over the top. It didn't happen often, but Hermione could actually be quite girly when she set her mind to it.

"Have you told them?" It was the question that was really praying on his mind. "Do they know what Voldemort did to me?"

"I rather believe they should be made aware of the truth," the Dumbledore said evenly, "however, I refrained from explaining the situation until such time as I could consult you in the matter. I am of the opinion that telling them sooner rather than later will be the most advantageous to you as well as them. They are aware you are recovering from Voldemort's attentions, but they are unaware of the consequences of Tom's machinations."

Sitting back in the chair Harry stared at the table; rationally he knew that he could not hide
forever, people were going to find out the truth, but knowing this did not stop him being afraid,
and being afraid made him tense, and being tense disrupted his control, and that let his baser
instincts to the surface. Swiping viciously at the table he sent one bowl flying and stormed to his
feet, turning away from Dumbledore and the headmaster's logic, as anger won over sense. His
desire to destroy something was almost overpowering, but he walked away, trying to bring back
the relative calm that the Occlumency usually helped him find. Why did everything have to be so hard?

"I don't want them to know," he said as all the terrible possibilities flooded into his mind, "I don't want anyone to ever know."

Lashing out with claws and supernatural strength he took a chunk out of one of the bed posts; the pain of the impact was so much easier to deal with than the pain he felt in his heart. Fascinated he watched as the mess of splinters slowly reformed as if organically growing back and it helped to bring his raging thoughts under control.

"What we want and what we are required to endure are unfortunately, often quite dissimilar," Dumbledore said calmly, obviously in great white sage mode.

The cynical part of Harry wanted to tell the headmaster where to stick his wisdom, but he managed to curb that impulse.

"At least they won't want to see me anymore," he said coldly, "once they know what I am." Dumbledore appeared disappointed by that statement.

"I believe you do your friends a great disservice with those words, Harry," the headmaster responded. "They care for you very deeply, and it will take more than that to frighten them away. I suggest you do not try and find out where that point may be."

Harry sneered at the old man over his shoulder; he was in no mood to play word games.
"Perhaps it is time for me to leave you in peace," Dumbledore suggested politely. "Do I have your permission to enlighten Mr Weasley and Miss Granger of your condition, and maybe Mr Longbottom as well?"

That was the scale the broke the dragon's wing and Harry snapped; the simply gentility of the headmaster's question enraged him.

"Tell the whole bloody world for all I care," he yelled, taking another swipe at the bed post. "Let
them point and stare; they've done it to me my whole life. Just don't let them in here; never let them in here with me."

Harry did not watch Dumbledore leave, but he felt him go, and a soon as he knew he was alone
he let go completely and the room filled with sound as the bedpost literally exploded.  

Part 2:

It was nearly midnight by the time Harry decided that sleep was not going to come and he needed to talk. He had calmed down enough to be very ashamed of his behaviour, and it weighed on his mind as well as everything else.

"Dobby," he said clearly, climbing out of bed and lifting the level of the lights with a flick of his wand.

The house elf popped into being almost instantly.

"Good evening," Dobby greeted cheerfully, "is Harry Potter feeling better?"

"Yes thank you, Dobby," Harry replied apologetically, "I'm sorry I shouted at you when you came to clear away the dinner things. I find it difficult to control myself sometimes."

"Dobby is understanding," the elf replied graciously, "Headmaster Dumbledore is explaining everything to Dobby when he is volunteering for this job."

Harry smiled at the small creature gratefully; he only hoped he was not about to annoy more people.

"I was wondering, Dobby," he said quickly, "do you know if Professor Dumbledore will still be up?"

"Dobby will check for Harry Potter," the elf said instantly and disappeared before Harry could do anything about it.

With a resigned sigh, he walked over to the desk and waited for Dobby to return. Taking a quill he scribbled a quick note to Dumbledore apologising for his behaviour and asking the headmaster if he would mind visiting, hoping all the while that Dobby would not wake Dumbledore to ask him if he was still up. Sometimes house elves could be very peculiar in their reasoning. A few moments after he finished the message Dobby reappeared.

"Headmaster Dumbledore is still being in his study," the elf said, very pleased with himself.

"Thank you, Dobby," Harry said politely, "I was wondering if you would mind delivering this to him for me." And with that he handed the house elf the note.

"Not at all, Harry Potter," Dobby replied brightly, taking the scrap of parchment. "Would there be anything else once Dobby is delivering the message?"

Shaking his head, Harry sat down on the desk chair.

"No thank you," he said, rubbing his eyes and trying to clear his head, "that's all."

Dobby disappeared a second time and Harry was left to hope that Dumbledore would be available. He had never timed how long it took to walk from the headmaster's study to the Room of Requirement, and he stood up again after only a minute or so and began pacing. It felt like an age, but could only have been about fifteen minutes when a sleepy Jeremy appeared in his second frame.

"Please let him in," Harry said without even waiting for the portrait to speak.

Jeremy just nodded and disappeared again.

"Good evening, Harry," Dumbledore said pleasantly as he walked in, "how may I be of assistance?"

"How did they take it?" Harry asked, having worked himself into quite a panic.

With a benevolent smile the headmaster conjured two chairs and indicated that Harry should sit down.

"Perhaps some tea," Dumbledore suggested and summoned his usual pot and cups and saucers from thin air.

Harry really didn't want tea, he wanted to know what had happened when the headmaster
explained what had occurred to Hermione and Ron, but he sat down and accepted the cup anyway. Remaining calm was his biggest aim, losing it a second time would not be productive.

"I believe Miss Granger intended to go straight to Professor Snape and offer her assistance with
his work," Dumbledore said as he poured the tea, "Mr Weasley wished to know when he could
visit you and Mr Longbottom offered to research rare plants and their use in treating such conditions as lycanthropy."

For a moment Harry sat very still, quite aware that the headmaster was not lying to him, but not
quite able to comprehend what Dumbledore had said either.

"They what?" he finally asked rather lamely.

Dumbledore gave him a patient smile.

"All three wished to do everything they can to help you in your new situation," the headmaster
explained slowly. "They all expressed a desire to see you, but Mr Weasley most of all. I believe his reasoning being along the lines that while Miss Granger and Mr Longbottom have expertise to offer useful to the situation, he would like to keep you company when he can, until such time as you are able to leave here."

"You're not going to let them," Harry said as the absurdity of the whole idea hit him, "are you?"
From the expression on Dumbledore's face it was quite obvious that the wizard was entertaining such ridiculous thoughts.

"I'm a dark creature, Professor," Harry said vehemently, "I'm deadly. Look what I did to Draco. I could kill them, or worse."

He shuddered at the mental images his own thoughts sent him. If he hurt any of them he would never forgive himself.

"Your crimes against Mr Malfoy were so heinous that the moment he was released into the school he made his way here," Dumbledore said kindly, but firmly. "Your response to normal
provocation has been to damage a little furniture, and when offered the opportunity to revenge
yourself on the Aurors who were undoubtedly about to take Mr Malfoy to his death, you took it upon yourself to protect him and refrain from killing anyone."

"I turned a man to stone," Harry persisted, "and put another two in St Mungo's."

"Where you could quite easily have killed all three," the headmaster seemed quite positive in his
argument. 

Leaning back in the very comfortable chair Dumbledore has conjured for him, Harry sipped his tea and tried not to think too black thoughts. The whole idea of letting his friends anywhere near him, scared him witless.

"I couldn't bear it if I hurt them," he admitted in little more than a whisper.

The headmaster fished in his pocket and handed Harry a chocolate frog, which he took without
thinking. Only with the wrapped confectionary in his hand did he come to a halt and look at the object in confusion.

"Chocolate always makes me feel better," Dumbledore offered in way of explanation.

Harry really didn't know what to say.

"I will not try and pretend there is no danger, My Boy," the headmaster continued as if their interaction had not suddenly taken a major left turn. "You are a most powerful individual and the instincts which drive you can be very dark, but in my long life I have met no other man, woman or child who fills me with as much faith as you do. Already you have overcome more than any human being to have ever come to my attention. The hardest part was maintaining your humanity after what Tom did to you. That there is any of you left at all is a marvel and that you can control what you have become is in no doubt in my mind."

Unwrapping the frog, Harry avoided looking at his mentor for some time; when he finally did he saw such confidence in Dumbledore's eyes that it made the breath catch in his throat. How was he supposed to protest in the face of such belief?

"There is also the question of the Ministry," the headmaster continued eventually. "I have exerted my influence and a hearing has been arranged for after the weekend, where we will settle the matter of their control over you. Cornelius will undoubtedly try and have you classified as a dangerous dark creature, rest assured this will not happen."

The tone Dumbledore used gave Harry no choice but to accept everything the headmaster said as fact. He had the feeling that when Dumbledore wanted something, nothing could actually stop him.

"However, I am sure Minster Fudge will insist that the hearing be held at the Ministry," the
explanation went on. "The more people you have come into contact with before that time, the easier the transition will be on you."

"That man's a pompous idiot," Harry said acidly; at least he had a valid target on which to take out his ire. "He would use anything but me showing up as an excuse to lock me up forever, wouldn't he?"

Dumbledore nodded, not that Harry was not sure that in this case that course of action might not be a bad idea.

"Unfortunately I believe that Cornelius is far more worried about public opinion than he is about you," the headmaster said regretfully. "I believe he does not think our world will react well to their hero being so afflicted, and hence wishes to hide you away. It is time, however, for our society to grow up; they have been coddled long enough and hiding reality from them will not help. You will be rewarded for your bravery and dedication, Harry, not punished, that much I promise you."

The bitter laugh was impossible to stop as it made its way out of Harry's mouth; he would have settled for normal obscurity any day.

"There is already a pile of letters for you in my office," Dumbledore continued calmly; "they have been arriving non stop since a special edition of the Prophet announced your defeat of Voldemort this afternoon. Tomorrow is to be an official holiday across the whole of the British Wizarding world. You have done us a great service, Harry, and all our people thank you."

"Until they find out what I am now," Harry replied with less bitterness than he expected. "I am not sure Fudge is wrong."

"It is a matter of perception, My Boy," the headmaster said kindly, "and we shall just have to make sure they perceive the real you."

If Harry had been sure what the real him was he might have found that comforting.

====

Dumbledore had stayed and talked until the small hours of the morning, about which Harry was
both feeling grateful and guilty. It had taken the headmaster a long time to convince him that
letting his friends visit was a good idea, but he had eventually agreed. What was stranger,
however, was that after he had made the decision he had gone to bed and actually fallen asleep.
Bacon was what eventually woke him, the smell of freshly cooked bacon; a scent proven to wake the dead. He rolled over and peered in the general direction of where Dobby had set up the table the previous day and there was a familiar blond figure standing next to it. Jeremy had standing instructions to let Draco in unless told specifically not to do so, making his presence not wholly surprising, except for the timing.

"I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to wake up," Draco said, picking up a slice of the bacon which had managed to pull Harry from sleep and chewing on it sexily.

Harry shook his head and sat up; if he was finding the way his lover was eating breakfast sexy, then there was little hope of Draco escaping unravished. It was not a demanding, rip-his-clothesoff-now, kind of feeling, but he definitely had the urge to worm his way under Draco's robes. The urgency of the previous day was gone, almost as if the fact that he had unequivocally marked his companion as his lessened the pressure of his demanding libido, but he had the sneaking suspicion he would never be able to look at Draco without considering how best to get him naked.

Climbing out of bed he wandered over towards the Slytherin, gave Draco a rather absent kiss,
mumbled a greeting, snagged a piece of bacon from the plate on the table and headed for the bathroom. It was only after he had put his head under the shower and started to clean his teeth that he had thought about the way Draco had appeared rather startled by his actions, but he didn't think about it too much. However, he was expecting something similar to the words which greeted him as he walked back into the other room, "You're odd first thing in the morning."

"What did I do this time?" Harry asked, pretty sure he knew, but interested to see what Draco would say.

"Random shows of affection," the Slytherin replied, as if the whole notion offended his sensibilities, "it is entirely bizarre behaviour."

"Well you'll have to forgive me," he said as he rummaged in his trunk, "I was not brought up with proper Slytherin manners and we Gryffindors are quite prone to forget ourselves."

It was strangely comforting to simply chat about nothing and for a few moments Harry managed to forget quite what a left turn his life had taken. Then as he was pulling on his clothes his mind flicked to the impending visit today of Ron, Hermione and Neville. Nev had become quite a fixture in their lives since the end of the fifth year, and although Harry knew people still referred to them as the Gryffindor trio, these days Neville was in on most of their antics. No matter how much part of him missed all three, the thought of facing them rather squashed his mood.

"Who doused your fairy light?" Draco asked as Harry walked towards the breakfast table with a frown on his face.

"My friends are visiting today," he responded and sat down.

The table was laid for two with a range of food not quite as large as the dinner the previous night, but still very extensive. Harry tried to distract himself back on to more settling thoughts by filling his plate; by the time he had finished, he had enough protein to feed a Quidditch team. One elegant eyebrow raised under a neatly trimmed fringe was Draco's only comment about that, but Harry had to admit that maybe he had been a little over enthusiastic.

"What time?" his companion asked conversationally while helping himself to a rather more normal selection of breakfast items. "With all lessons cancelled today there are bound to be far too many Gryffindors hanging around, and if yesterday at dinner was anything to go by, until our little fabrication becomes public knowledge, half of them want to kill me."

Harry looked up sharply at the same time Draco realised what he had said.

"Figure of speech," the Slytherin corrected quickly and then paused, "at least I don't think any of
them really want to do permanent damage," he continued thoughtfully; "but there is a definite hostility. If it wasn't for Crabbe and Goyle I might be worried, not having my wand at the moment thanks to the bloody bureaucracy we call a government, but they seem to think I'm worth protecting. I wouldn't want to come face to face with Weasley though; I think he believes I am the spawn of Voldemort himself."

That sounded very like Ron, which of course brought up the other dilemma about the whole
Draco relationship. How his friends were going to take that he had no idea, and he decided that
one hurdle at a time was probably a good idea. If they could get past the whole star of a horror movie bit he would be incredibly grateful.

"Just after lunch," Harry replied, sitting on the instincts that tried to rise to the surface at any suggestion that someone would hurt his human. The possessive view point no longer took him by surprise, but it did make him wonder what Draco thought about the whole situation. The Slytherin did not appear to be complaining about the idea, but Draco had also shown he was not someone who would belong to anyone else either. It was clear Draco would pledge allegiance when pushed, but there was a line he would not cross.

Harry could not help wondering why his lover had not run the moment he marked him, since
Draco had clearly had no choice in the matter.

"Why don't you hate me?" Harry suddenly decided to ask the question that was really bothering him. They had started to have this conversation before, but the whole changing the Dark Mark had rather interrupted it. The enquiry did not seem to faze Draco and the Slytherin sipped his tea thoughtfully before opening his mouth.

"At first I thought that my feelings towards you were simply to do with gratitude," Draco said
eventually, "at least that is what I preferred to believe, but you rather destroyed that idea when you tried to be noble and throw me out yesterday. You may have noticed over the years that relationships are not my strong point; in my world relationships of any kind tend to be arranged forme, so I'm rather new at this. Having thought about it endlessly all night, the only conclusion I can come to is that I have no idea why I am drawn to you, I just am and I may as well become used to the idea. I care what happens to you and I care for you; both of which, outside my immediate family, are new experiences, I don't think I wish to analyse it further than that ... yet."

Draco's tone was very final about that, and Harry decided he was not going to receive any more
answers for the moment. His own emotions concerning the Slytherin were also so mixed up that
he wasn't sure he could give a sensible answer to the question either. They were connected,
emotionally and now magically through the changes Harry had wrought on the Dark Mark and, for the time being, explanations would have to wait.

"Seen the Quidditch scores yet?" he decided that a complete change of tack was in order. "Your team's new Seeker is really bad; have you poached back the position yet?"

"Give me a chance, Potter," Draco said with a smirk, "rebuilding an empire takes time."

====

Harry managed to control the urge to touch Draco for a good half an hour, but eventually he couldn't resist and he snaked out one foot, rubbing it up against his lover's leg. The only reaction this garnered from the subject of his attention was a vaguely interested look over a tea cup as Draco took a sip of his drink. Harry could not help the small predatory smile that graced his face as he watched his blond lover virtually ignore his opening gambit.

"Are you expecting any visitors other than the horde of Gryffindors today?" Draco asked
conversationally as Harry sank a little lower in his chair and moved his foot further up his companion's leg.

"No one I know of," he replied, playing the game, "but even if they turn up unannounced I shouldn't think it'll be anytime soon."

"So if I push off you'd be in for a boring morning, then?" his lover commented without the slightest indication that Harry was doing anything at all.

In response he ran his toes down the inside of Draco's thigh, at which point his lover's legs moved apart, but above the table there was not even a flicker.

"Very boring," Harry replied casually, although he had no intention of letting Draco leave.
He had set his sights and there was little which could derail him once he was focused, even
before his change of status he had been stubborn; now, when the wild forces inside him took
charge he barely understood the concept of 'no'. It crossed his mind briefly that he was lucky Draco seemed to understand this as well, or he could have found himself in serious trouble.

Shifting again and moving his foot even further he soon found out that although Draco's face
showed no reaction at all, there was at least one part of his lover's anatomy that was very
interested in what he was doing. From the considerable firmness he found between Draco's legs,
Harry decided that maybe the Slytherin had been expecting this move and anticipating it.

"I would probably pine away from sheer loneliness," he said innocently.

Draco was sitting just a little straighter in his chair now, and the way his lover's lips were slightly
parted gave Harry a very good indication that he had Draco's whole attention. Smoothly the
teacup was placed back on the table and elegant fingers rested on the tabletop. Curling his toes
slightly around the bulge, he could feel beneath the soft fabric of Draco's trousers, he pushed gently, lifting his foot slightly and running it along the length of the hardness he could feel.

Finally, he was rewarded with a reaction as his lover's eyes flickered closed for a moment and a low groan answered the move. Draco also sunk slightly in his chair, his legs falling further open.

"That would be unfortunate," Draco said, voice tight, but still playing the game of words, "it would place a hole in my ruse with the Ministry."

For that Harry pushed just a little harder, producing a grunt from his lover, but then he curled his toes again and ran them the length of Draco's inside leg before returning to his previous position.

Finally Harry gained the reaction he had been after as his lover gave in and melted into his touch.

Draco's eyes closed all the way, the blond head went back and Harry rewarded his lover with another caress. Watching Draco's face, a small smile playing at his own features, he continued his ministrations and enjoyed the expression of pleasure which graced his lover's visage. He could have just kept going, but as much as he liked the sparks of arousal he could feel coming from Draco, he wanted to be closer to the source of that tingling power.

Withdrawing his leg, he slipped under the table without waiting for Draco's reaction and moved straight towards his target. Controlling the urges of his incubus part, he freed the button of Draco's trousers and undid the zip gently rather than ripping it apart, which was what he really wanted to do. The silk boxers he found underneath were not a surprise and neither was their colour of deep green, but Harry was not particularly interested in the soft material. What he wanted was the prize within and he slipped nimble fingers into the opening in the underwear, sliding talon tipped digits gently around what he found. He ran his tongue over his lips as he released Draco's healthy erection from the confines of the material restraining it, and breathed in deeply, taking in the scent of male arousal.

It was all he needed to encourage the incubus form out completely and he felt his chest tingling as the spines erupted, forcing his t-shirt away from his body and his own trousers were suddenly
tight. There was a moan in response from Draco, almost as if his lover had felt the change in
Harry, but he was too focused on his prize to take much notice. The tingling of arousal from his
companion was enough to keep him very much absorbed and everything around him disappeared into insignificance.

If there was one thing that might get him killed one day, it was his fanatical focus when it came to his incubus' needs. Leaning in, he let Draco's scent flood his senses and stroked his lover's erection from root to tip with both his index fingers. The breathy response and the fact that Draco opened his legs wider, slouching in the chair, encouraged Harry in his next action. Placing his hand flat on the underside of his lover's cock he opened his mouth and almost experimentally, stuck out his tongue and ran it over the head.

A hand snaked under the table then and long fingers wrapped into his hair. He took that as a
positive response. The taste of Draco was fantastic, alive and real, and it filled his mouth and nose, drawing him in closer as he firmly sucked his prize between his lips and onto his tongue, running the tip down the moist slit.

The incubus had many talents, a very well designed predator, perfectly suited to all things sexual and he allowed the demon to change him yet further as his tongue thinned and lengthened. He had not employed the more extreme changes the incubus could attain since that first night and this time he did not split his tongue, snake like, but experimented, allowing it to elongate even further, coiling it around the length of Draco's erection and pulling back slightly, tightening his grip. The explosive groan from his lover and the fingers grasping at his scalp rather indicated that his experimentation was appreciated.

Concentrating, he moved forward again, allowing the sexual energy from Draco to spur him on,
and he felt a wave of possessiveness sweep through him as he claimed his lover whole. The
momentary gag reflex was ignored as the dark creature in him took over and forced his human reactions to the background. His tongue moved as he used his throat and lips to stimulate Draco, drawing small sounds and movements of encouragement from his lover. Using his hands, he pushed Draco's legs even further apart and slightly up, giving him more access as he buried his face in silk.

Now he upped his pace and began to move his head up and down as Draco surrendered all
control to him. Shortening his tongue, he allowed it to split, and rather than coiling it around his
prize, he wrapped it much more firmly around Draco's cock and sucked, hard. It couldn't exactly
be said he was stimulating his lover in the old fashioned way, but he held back on the desire to
force power between them; he wanted to do this manually. He might have been mostly under the influence of the incubus, but that did not mean the human part had no needs as well. 

Touching Draco was a joy that all of him enjoyed.

With his movements and firm tongue it was not long before Draco was panting and moaning in time with his ministrations. Harry could feel the arousal building and building in his lover and his body vibrated in response. His own erection pressed uncomfortably against the zip of his jeans, but it did very little to distract him. Slipping his hands further down Draco's legs, under his lover's body, he gripped the firm buttocks and squeezed as he deep throated Draco yet again. He felt the Slytherin's orgasm coming before it arrived and pulled back just slightly, feeling the beginnings of the payoff with relish.

Almost immediately Draco bucked into his mouth, calling out wordlessly as liquid hit the back of
Harry's throat. As the incubus drank in the energy of sexual release, the human drank the very
physical reaction and all of Harry rode the high. Sometimes he needed this, sometimes he just wanted it, but in this the sexual predator and the human need came together as one and he could deny himself the sensation. He needed Draco in a physical sense or his incubus nature would drive him to acts he could barely admit to himself, but he was beginning to realise that he needed this for far more human reasons as well. He refused to dwell on the ideas that flashed through his mind, but they settled at the back of his thoughts never the less.

Only as he drew back, tongue returning to its normal shape and size, but still very efficiently
removing all signs of Draco's orgasm from the Slytherin's slowly softening cock, did Harry's own state of arousal make it back into his senses. His lover was lounging bonelessly in the chair, barely staying in place as Harry withdrew his support and Draco gave no indication of moving any time soon as Harry crawled out from under the table. In other circumstances he might have waited for his lover to recover and then request that Draco return the favour, but he was rather too much in need for that.

Sitting on the floor – he really didn't care what impression he was going to give – he fumbled with the fastenings on his jeans, pushed them down and freed his erection from his underwear. He could not help the moan as he wrapped his fingers around his cock. He was almost painfully
aroused and he needed his own release as quickly as possible. Pulling his t-shirt up and out the way he spread his legs and fisted his erection firmly, grunting with relief as he felt the beginnings of his own completion.

It took only a few stokes before he was bucking into his hands and firing creamy liquid all over
his stomach. It was quite strange to feel his own orgasm in isolation, without his lover's at the
same time, but it still took his breath away as he shuddered uncontrollably. Only as he sat there
panting did he begin to come down properly and the incubus attributes begin to fade from his
body. It took him a long few seconds to sort his head out and then he looked up to find hungry grey eyes watching him intently.

"Merlin, you're beautiful," Draco said in little more than a whisper.

Harry felt himself flush.

====

It was almost an ordinary morning in that at least Harry was feeling vaguely human after satisfying his sexual urges, and he and Draco chatted idly about anything and everything. It was quite simply nice, and Harry enjoyed his lover's company. They were not disturbed until about ten at which point Jeremy announced that Professor Snape was outside. The pair shared a look. The Potions master would only be here for business; it wasn't as if he was the social type.

"Please let him in, Jeremy," Harry said after a few moments.

At least this time they were both fully clothed, except for the fact that Harry wasn't wearing shoes and socks. When Snape entered the room this time he was carrying a tray once more, but it was covered and the chemical smell that assailed Harry's sensitive nose set his teeth on edge. The Potions master did not appear even remotely surprised to see Draco in the room and Snape acknowledged the member of his house with a nod.

"Good morning, Professor," Harry said evenly, , squashing the discomfort he always felt around the wizard so that his darker side would not react.

"Mr Potter," Snape replied in his usual tone, "Mr Malfoy."

"Professor," Draco returned cordially.

"I have been carrying out some preliminary experiments," Snape returned to business
immediately, "and I believe I have constructed a potion which should help with some of the more over powering urges. Unfortunately due to your unique physiology I cannot guarantee the potency of the mixture; however, I can assure there will be no major side effects. I have also updated the list which I gave you at the time I took the blood sample."

He handed Harry another piece of parchment and if he had been talking to a Gryffindor, Harry
would not have hesitated to leave it at that, but he was talking to a Slytherin, and the head
Slytherin to boot, so his eyes narrowed in suspicion. He let his mind run over the first comment carefully.

"So what are the minor side effects?" he asked bluntly.

Snape appeared vaguely surprised by the question and removed the cloth from the tray with a raise of his eyebrows.

"Possible nausea, light headedness and drowsiness," the potions master replied openly.

"But it might stop me hurting someone?" Harry wanted to be sure he had this correct.

For a while Snape did not reply, and continued to arrange things on the tray.

"Although it pains me to say it, Mr Potter," the head of Slytherin said evenly, "I believe you will
prevent that yourself. However, the general idea is to make that onus easier on you. With Miss Granger's input a solution presented itself, but the results cannot be assured."

Looking at the goblet of what appeared to be a noxious green liquid, Harry made his decision and he picked it up dubiously.

"Any particular instructions?" he asked as he held it away from his nose.

This close the smell was almost overpowering.

"I would suggest downing it in one," Snape said unsympathetically.

That made Harry grimace, but he was nothing if not brave and he lifted the goblet slowly. The
smell was enough to set some of his darker aspects screeching that he was insane, but he put the vessel to his lips and tipped it back quickly. It tasted like nothing on this earth, worse than polyjuice, and that had been bad, and it hit his stomach like a stone, but he finished it anyway.

"You out did yourself," he said when he could finally control the retching that followed, "that was worse than I can possibly describe."

"I'll remember to add essence of orange next time," Snape said sarcastically. "Any immediate effects?

Harry felt like telling him where he could stuff his 'immediate effects', and it was a very close
thing, but he held his tongue. The only thing that he could feel at the moment was the desire to bring back what he had just swallowed.

"The nausea you mentioned," he said slowly, "but I don't feel any different."

"Please record any other results," Snape said efficiently as he replaced the cover on the goblet.

"Positive as well as adverse; your reactions could be important."

"Uh-huh," Harry replied, but he was beginning to think that the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach was not going to stop.

In fact it was getting worse and he looked at Draco worriedly.

"You look almost as green as my bed sheets," his lover said unhelpfully.

For once a snarky reply jumped to his mind, but he had no chance to say it. At that moment his
stomach did a flip and he knew instantly that he was about to loose this battle. Without even
making a vain attempt to try and maintain his dignity he put his hand over his mouth and ran to the bathroom. The potion revisited the world as quickly as it had gone down as he knelt helplessly over the toilet bowl.

"Uncontrolled vomiting," he heard Snape's dispassionate voice catalogue his predicament and he would have reacted if he had been able to, but he was incapable of anything except being very, very sick. "Tea, Mr Malfoy, peppermint tea; he will be dehydrated when he is finished."

"Yes, Sir," Harry heard Draco reply, but all he really cared about was the turmoil in his intestine.
Bloody revenge seemed like a very good idea at that moment, just as soon as his stomach let him stand up.

"I shall return to my lab," he heard Snape say and he really didn't want his victim to run away, but there wasn't a lot he could do to stop it.

As revenge moved away from him he realised that he was probably going to get to know the toilet bowl very well.

====

The nausea was beginning to pass after about three quarters of an hour, but Harry was still feeling sorry for himself, and he was in the mood to be decidedly antisocial. Draco had stopped trying to make him talk or do anything for that matter after five minutes of prying him away from the toilet and had moved to the desk and was reading a text book of some sort. Harry was sitting on the bed sulking, or at least that's what his lover had told him he was doing. Harry for his part had no intention of stopping even if he was just being difficult; as far as he was concerned he had every right to be annoyed (although Snape's fate had been relegated to maiming rather than outright murder now).

It was not exactly the best time for someone to come calling and when Jeremy announced that
Professor McGonagall was waiting outside Harry almost told the portrait to tell her to go away, but Draco got there first.

"Let her in please, Jeremy," the Slytherin said, much to Harry's growing outrage.

The portrait looked to Harry and then back at Draco, and it was a credit to the power of Slytherin determination when his door guardian decided to obey Draco rather than the unhappy look Harry was sporting.

"What if I don't want her to come in?" he demanded pointedly, standing up and glaring.

"She's your head of house," Draco said looking back at his book, "and she has been fighting your corner since the moment she set foot at the Manor. Now be polite."

The urge to maim and rend almost switched focus to his lover at that moment, but the get out of jail free card kicked in and derailed his anger just as Professor McGonagall walked in. He looked awkwardly at her for a moment and her eyes ran over him and then to Draco. The head of Gryffindor had never been one of Draco's biggest fans, in fact it could be said that Professor
McGonagall had been glad when Draco had not returned to school for his seventh year and she still appeared somewhat uncomfortable with him in the room.

"Good morning, Harry, Draco," Professor McGonagall greeted politely.

"Hello," was about the nicest response Harry could manage.

"Good morning, Professor," Draco was far more charming and stood up as he spoke.

That appeared to cause a quandary in the head of Gryffindor; it seemed to Harry as if she had
expected more of an opposite response where he was the overly polite one and Draco the surly.

Well he was in no mood to play nice, so quite frankly Draco could lay on the charm as much as he liked as far as Harry was concerned.

"I'm afraid there was an unfortunate incident with a potion this morning," his lover continued to speak to his head of house as Harry just glared, "and Harry is not in the best of moods."

"Snape bloody poisoned me is what happened," he said pointedly, totally ignoring the fact that he was swearing in front of the head of Gryffindor.

Understanding dawned in Professor McGonagall's eyes and she smiled sympathetically at Harry.
"Ah, I see," she said in a very understanding tone, "I can understand how that would be
unpleasant. I was just dropping in to discus the arrangements for Miss Granger, Mr Weasley and

Mr Longbottom to visit, but it may be a better idea to delay the meeting if you are feeling unwell."

Part of Harry jumped for joy, but the rest of him went cold. Although the idea of the visit terrified
him on one level, the social part of his nature had been longing to see his friends again. The
suggestion caught him totally off guard and rather derailed any annoyance he might have been
feeling. He opened his mouth to object, but found himself far too conflicted to speak, and, not
knowing what to do, he sat down and stared at the floor. These days, when it came to any interaction with the outside world he seemed to spend his time in a perpetual haze of confusion.

He rather forgot he was not alone as he did his best to sort out the mixed emotions that had so suddenly swamped him.

"Harry," he snapped back to reality as someone spoke to him and he looked up quickly.

Professor McGonagall was standing only a few feet away and she appeared concerned, Draco was only another foot or so behind her.

"Are you all right," his head of house asked kindly.

"Confused," he said shortly, but mainly because he couldn't explain it beyond that, rather than because he was still sulking.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Professor McGonagall enquired supportively.

It was a genuine question rather than anything born of forced feelings of responsibility so Harry
considered it for a moment, but slowly shook his head. He really did not think he wanted to explain what he was feeling.

"It's difficult," he said and hoped that his head of house would not push.

As it was she nodded in acceptance and looked around the room.

"As you wish, Young man," she said agreeably. "Perhaps we should discus the arrangements for

this afternoon and decide on timing later. Would you mind if I sat down?"

It was then that Harry realised what Professor McGonagall had been looking for: somewhere to sit.

"Um," he said apologetically, "Professor Dumbledore usually conjures himself a chair."

That caused the witch to smile.

"Yes, well, the headmaster has rather particular taste in furniture," she replied fondly, "however, I was led to believe that the Room of Requirements would provide whatever is needed by the occupants. Would you care to do the honours or shall I?"

It had not occurred to Harry that he could add to what was already in the room, and it dawned on him that maybe he had been being somewhat dense.

"Um, I'm not sure how," he admitted sheepishly.

"Concentration, Harry," Professor McGonagall said, almost as if she was at the head of a class teaching; "the key to most magic is concentration."

That sounded far too easy, in Harry's experience magic was actually concentration and some hideously complicated words and actions, but although he was a peevish dark creature he was not about to contradict Professor Minerva McGonagall to her face. Voldemort was one thing, an annoyed McGonagall was another, and he had already dealt with the only one he had any intention of engaging.

"So all I need to do is think hard enough?" he asked, honestly intrigued.

He had stood in the hallway concentrating to make the room into what he needed many times, but once inside, changing it had never come up. His head of house nodded with a small smile.

Dubiously Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on a mental image of the high back chairs that the staff used in the Great Hall. He really wasn't sure the room worked in quite the way Professor McGonagall seemed to think it did, but he was willing to try.

"Thank you, Harry," his head of house's voice broke through his concentration and he opened his eyes to find the chair from his mental image sitting next to his head of house.

He did not bother to hide his surprise. His eyes flicked to Draco and then back to the chair: this opened up a whole new world of possibilities.

"So, Harry," Professor McGonagall said cheerfully as she sat down, "about this afternoon."

====

Harry heard the entrance to his room open as he shamelessly hid behind the almost closed bathroom door. He had recovered from Snape's potion, and managed to restore his better mood, but that was rapidly changing again. Jeremy was under instructions to let his visitors in when they arrived and Harry had been cowering in the smaller room for a good ten minutes; quite frankly he was terrified.

"Ah, Harry must be in the bathroom," Professor McGonagall said pleasantly as he listened at the door, "I'm sure he won't be a moment."

Harry swallowed hard and stared at his reflection in the mirror; so different. Would they be able to see him under the physical changes his condition had made, or would they just see this dark creature which stared back at him? The idea of slamming the door home, locking it and screaming for them to go away briefly flitted through his head, but he managed to suppress it, just. Biting his lip nervously he reached for the door handle, and tried to bring his thundering heart rate under control.

Pulling back the safety barrier between himself and his friends was one of the hardest things he had ever done, and he stepped into the main chamber with all the confidence of a ferret amongst a heard of hippogriffs. His friends were all stood around the library area and appeared to be pretending to look at various book titles as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

Professor McGonagall gave him a supportive smile as he hovered just inside the room and Neville was the first to turn.

His friend's eye went wide and Neville's mouth turned into a little round 'o'. If one thing could
always be relied upon, it was Neville's complete inability to hide what he was thinking. Harry almost bolted.

"Harry," the flustered Gryffindor said, which of course caused Ron and Hermione to both look in his direction as well.

Ron just stared, face completely blank and Hermione was the first to move. To Harry's growing
horror she hurried across the room, and if he hadn't been quite so shocked he might have reacted defensively; as if was, when she threw her arms around him he simply froze completely.

"Harry," she said into his shoulder, "we've been so worried."

He was assailed by a confusing influx of instincts which ranged from the desire to remove the
threat of the very powerful witch who was embracing him, up to wanting to return the hug. It left
him rather shocked and stiff in his friend's arms. Hermione was nothing if not persistent, however, and she held on until eventually he managed to overcome his conflict and awkwardly embraced her back.

"Hello," he said quietly as she finally pulled back.

The genuine smile on Hermione's face rather took his breath away, she seemed so pleased to see him and he couldn't understand why he didn't horrify her.

"When they took you we were frantic," Hermione said earnestly, "I'm so glad you're back and in one piece."

"With added extras," he said far more bitterly than he had meant to.

For a moment his friend frowned at him and then pursed her lips.

"Yes, well we can help you with that," she said firmly, "I'm just glad you're alive. One reason to
be thankful for Voldemort's complete insanity; anyone with any sense would have just killed you."

It was typical of Hermione to be practical and Harry did not quite know how to react. He had
expected horrified reactions, fear and a division that could not be breached, but it was almost as if he hadn't changed at all. It seemed that Hermione was still quite willing to express her forthright opinions, and she didn't seem to be remotely nervous of him. In fact all he could feel from her was a deep curiosity, sympathy and happiness; he was rather at a loss to know how to proceed.

"Well," Professor McGonagall said in her usual, kind but firm tone, "having dispatched my duty
in delivering your friends, Mr Potter, I shall take my leave. I hope you all have a pleasant afternoon."

It was funny how the woman could be so formal one moment and almost like an eccentric aunt the next.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said politely even as part of him wanted to beg her to stay and maintain the position of chaperone.

"The wards will allow you through from this direction, Miss Granger, Mr Weasley, Mr
Longbottom," Professor McGonagall said pleasantly, "and there is no need to let anyone know
when you leave; the protections will inform the headmaster when you choose to return to Gryffindor Tower."

"Thank you," Hermione spoke for the other three.

As the door closed behind the Professor, Harry felt as if the ground was opening beneath him.
Hermione may have been taking everything calmly, but Neville still appeared shocked and Ron
was not reacting in anyway Harry had come to expect from his best friend. Whether he liked it or
not, Ron was the epitome of a fiery redhead and Molly's son was like his mother in that he tended to be very emotive. The fact that Ron barely had any expression said far more than if his best friend had been raging around the room.

"You seem to have been doing a lot of reading," Hermione made an opening gambit to break the
stillness that had fallen the moment Professor McGonagall had left. "You must have half the restricted section in here."

"I don't think they're actually here until I need them," Harry said, willing to take the opening for
what it was. "I'm not quite sure how it works, but Dumbledore said something about the books
being images until I want to read them, and then the library lets me borrow the real book when I take it off the shelf. I've been trying to figure out what I am; I had never even heard of some of the creatures on Snape's list."

Hermione smiled at that.

"Well some of them are a little obscure," she said, "I had to look some of them up as well."
Perversely, Harry couldn't help enjoying that; stumping Hermione was almost unheard of and he smiled back.

"I'll have to make a note on the calendar," he said lightly; "'Am something Hermione didn't know about, have achieved life's aim.'"

This time the bitterness was far less pronounced and his friend politely ignored that it was there at all.

"How are you feeling, Mate?" Ron finally entered the conversation.

Several curt answers came to mind, especially after the potions fiasco, but the part of Harry who was glad that his best friend had chosen to speak won the race to his mouth.

"Pretty bizarre," he admitted honestly, "but I think I'm getting the hang of some of it. If I snap at you, don't take any notice, I have a foul temper these days."

"So what's new?" Harry couldn't help staring as Neville launched in boldly.

For a second he was so shocked at his friend's words that he didn't know how to react, and Neville appeared ready to run if necessary. Eventually a heartfelt laugh bubbled up and out of his throat; maybe his fellow Gryffindor had a point. He had almost forgotten how good it felt to simply laugh and he was very happy to see a smile replace the unsure look on Neville's face.

"Yeah," Harry said lightly, "you could be right. Just if I get in a snit don't get between me and the furniture; it can cope with my frustration. Shall we sit down?"

That brokered confusion in his friends since there was apparently only one chair in the room.

"Three piece or a table and chairs?" Harry asked pleasantly.

"Something comfortable," Hermione said, catching on.

Harry closed his eyes and made a firm picture of furniture similar to that in the Gryffindor common room in his mind. After his little try and success at asking the room for things earlier that morning, he hoped fervently it worked this time. When he opened his eyes there were two arm chairs and a sofa sitting in the middle of the room and he smiled, pleased with himself.

"Perk of living in the Room of Requirement," he said lightly as Ron looked at him in a rather startled manner.

Taking the lead he flopped down into one of the chairs and hoped the others would follow him.
Unsurprisingly, Neville took the other chair and Hermione and Ron sat down on the sofa; it was
so completely normal that for a moment Harry could almost have believed they were all in the
common room. It was a pleasant feeling and he managed to hold onto it for a good few seconds before reality insisted on being acknowledged.

"So what have I missed?" he asked in an attempt to keep his mood buoyant.

"You're better off in here," Ron said in almost his normal tone, "it's gone mental out there. As
soon as the special edition of the Prophet came out the world ground to a halt; lessons weren't officially cancelled yesterday afternoon, but I don't think anyone did any work, and the girls have been wandering around decorating anything that doesn't walk away."

"Not all the girls, Ron," Hermione corrected lightly, "and you're only annoyed because Lavender tried to make you wear that flowery banner. It's good to see people celebrating."

Harry looked at his best friend's uncomfortable expression.

"Flowery banner?" he asked, knowing that this had to be interesting.

Hermione actually looked gleeful at the enquiry.

"The seventh years have been doing Hippies in Muggle Studies," she said brightly, "and
Lavender has decided that flower power is the perfect way to celebrate peace. Flowers are turning up everywhere, and she has enlisted half of Hufflepuff as well. Since she doesn't have you to work with, she decided that Ron, as your best friend, was a valid target and she tried to stick him into a banner proclaiming peace and love with bright pink flowers."

"Yeah and if Hermione hadn't been good at undoing sticking charms I'd still be wearing it," Ron said in a very affronted tone.

"It clashed with his hair," Neville said with a laugh.

"Wasn't bloody funny," Ron grouched, in his annoyance seeming to forget any awkwardness.

Harry knew, as a best friend, he should have agreed with Ron and commiserated with him, but he couldn't help himself as he laughed. Lavender could be insistent when she felt like it and he could just imagine Ron trying to get away. When it came to any threat they had ever faced, Ron had been there ready to deal with it, but his best friend was hopeless when it came to coping with stubborn girls. The betrayed looked on Ron's face was a picture and just made Harry laugh harder.

"Sorry, Ron," he apologised between chuckles, "but I wish I'd been there to see that."

"Yeah, well if you had been there she wouldn't have bothered with me would she?" his friend said sulkily.

For once it appeared that Ron would have preferred to play second fiddle to The Boy Who Lived.
For a brief second Harry wondered if in his altered state he'd have a similar reaction to Ron, or if
he'd try and eat Lavender for her trouble. He managed to sit on the morbid thought before he
could dwell on it, but it sobered him a little. It looked like another awkward silence would fall when Hermione elbowed Ron in the ribs and looked at him rather meaningfully.

"Wha... oh," Ron was as clueless as usual to begin with. "We went to Hogsmeade this morning, what with the day off and all, and since you can't go yet we brought you some stuff."

His friend then fished in what Harry realised was a suspiciously stuffed pocket and produced a
handful of sweets. Then a small problem popped up as Ron looked for somewhere to put them.
Quickly Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on a coffee table, which dutifully appeared between.

"Thanks, Mate," Ron said almost absently and dumped the contents of his hand on the new piece of furniture.

"Dobby told us there were some things you couldn't eat any more," Neville said conversationally, "but sweets were okay."

Harry felt strangely warm inside as he realised how much trouble his friends had gone to for him.

"Yeah," he said around the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat, "it's really weird; saved me from the Ministry trying to drug me though."

"They did what?" Hermione sounded outraged.

"I think they wanted to make sure I wouldn't be any trouble while they took me somewhere,"

Harry said quietly, "but they put whatever it was in the porridge and I couldn't eat it."

"Idiots," his friend raged bluntly, "with your physiology as it is now anything could have
happened. They couldn't possibly have known what would be safe. Thank Merlin Dumbledore took over."

"Um, yeah," Harry agreed, although this wasn't really the direction he wanted the conversation to go and he regretted his earlier words. "Is that what I think it is?" he asked, seeing a familiar looking red lollipop on the table.

It was a diversionary tactic, but it worked as everyone looked down.

"Blood flavoured lollipop," Neville replied brightly, "my idea."

"Thanks, Nev," Harry said in kind and snagged the confectionary with a grin.

The other three just sat there, watching him as he began to unwrap his prize.

"Well," he asked as he noticed, "isn't anyone else going to have something?"

That broke the stillness and his friends dived in as well. It was when he stuck the lollipop into his mouth that Harry suddenly decided that maybe he had made a mistake. The moment the flavour burst onto his tongue his fangs descended in response and he kept his mouth firmly closed to hide them. He had not expected his physiology to react to the sweet, and he did not want to frighten his friends with more strangeness. The major problem was that he couldn't remove the lollipop without revealing that he now had long, vicious fangs in his mouth. For a moment he panicked; unfortunately, Ron noticed.

"Harry, Mate, you okay?" his best friend asked.

"Uh-huh," Harry mumbled around the sweet in his mouth, not sure how he could get out of this one.

A quick trip to the bathroom seemed like a sensible option, but he couldn't exactly explain with
the lolly in his mouth and he couldn't take it out so he was rather stuck. The confectionary really did taste rather good, but that was not helping his predicament at all.

"Are you sure, Harry?" Hermione asked in her usual, slightly concerned manner.

All three were looking at him now and he really didn't know what to do; he couldn't even speak
like this. They all appeared so worried, and eventually Harry gave up. He'd lost this round and he had to take the consequences. Very slowly he opened his mouth wide enough to remove the lollipop and in doing so revealed his fangs.

"Um," he said awkwardly, looking anywhere but directly at his friends.

"Well I've never seen anyone react that way to a lollipop," Ron said suddenly; "makes me wonder what reaction we could get with a liquorice wand."

Harry glanced up quickly at his best friend's words and was surprised to find a half smile playing at Ron's mouth. When his eyes flicked to the other two Hermione gave him a supportive smile and Neville shrugged. At that reaction Harry managed a sheepish grin.

"I wouldn't chance it if I were you," he said quietly, matching Ron's tone.

That finally coaxed a laugh out of his friend. As he looked at his three year mates he was very
glad for such accepting friends and he only hoped that he would never do anything that would
make them regret their faith. Relaxing just a little he sat back in his chair and popped the sweet back in his mouth; he might as well enjoy it now that it had embarrassed him.

The real chat began then, rather than the forced camaraderie and Harry found himself joining in
with the meaningless banter. Ron wanted to talk about Quidditch tactics since, as deputy
Gryffindor captain, he now had responsibility for the team, but Hermione and Neville managed to head him off after only a few minutes. There would be plenty of time for that later and Neville,
who it had turned out always knew all the gossip, began to give them all the low down on every bit of scandal from around the school.

They were doing really well, laughing and joking about the misdemeanours and indiscretions of their fellow pupils, until an obvious topic came up; one of Ron's favourites, and then things went down hill.

"The Slytherins are as weird as usual," the epitome of Gryffindorish directness said rather
spitefully, "half of them are really quiet, and you just know they must be planning something, and the other half of them is pretending that they wanted You Know Who dead all along."

Harry's hackles went up straight away; he knew where this was going.

"They're not all..." he tried to head it off before it went any further.

As usual when winding up into a rant about Slytherin house, Ron was oblivious.

"As if we didn't all know that they're junior Death Eaters," his best friend continued. "I know for a fact that some of their parents are You Know Who's lackeys."

Harry glared at Ron, but it did no good, his friend was not taking any notice.

"Take Draco bloody Malfoy, for a start," Ron was really on a roll. "One of the Hufflepuffs gave
him a peace flower and can you believe that he actually wore it. Him, of all people, a peace flower!"

Anger flared in Harry and he balled his hands into fists as his best friend continued to rant.

"Ron," Neville's voice was low and nervous.

"It's like You Know Who himself joining in," Ron was far too into his stride to listen and Harry was becoming tenser and angrier by the second.

"Ron, shut up!" Neville sounded a little desperate.

That finally brought Ron's rant to a halt and he looked over at his dorm mate rather annoyed
before looking directly at Harry. Ron's eyes went wide and he sat back, away from Harry, which
at another time would probably have hurt, but Harry was far too angry to worry about it. Dark
ideas were travelling through his head and the power to carry them out lurked very close to the surface.

"I was almost a Slytherin, Ron," he said, his voice low and dangerously resonant, "would you have said the same of me?"

"Harry, I..." Ron tried to say something, but Harry was not interested.

"Tarring them all with the same brush is a bad as them calling Hermione a Mudblood, or
denouncing Muggles as being stupid just because they don't have magic," he continued, angry on several different levels.

Part of him was annoyed that Ron had insulted and tried to denigrate Draco; another part was angry that his best friend was still drawing lines in the sand; and yet another was furious that with attitudes like that, all he had been through would likely end up as nothing.

"Are you your father, Ron?" he asked pointedly. "Do you want to go and work for the Ministry in
a little office because you're obsessed with Muggle devices? Do you have a plug collection?
They're children, Ron, they're not demons or monsters or murderers. They can be happy he's gone as much as you."

He was working himself up, he knew it, and yet he couldn't stop it. With a snarl he stood up and
walked away, leaving a deathly silence behind him. His temper was too high, his anger too hot
and he did not trust himself in the vicinity of his friends. Ron was just blowing off steam, Harry knew this intellectually, but he could not separate his emotions from his response and he did not want to take the risk of staying close to his best friend. He went and stood by the bed post the same way he had with Dumbledore, just in case he needed a target, but wrapping his arms around himself he tried to bring his raging feelings under control without destroying anything.

"Harry," eventually Hermione spoke, "is everything all right?"

He didn't turn, he didn't dare, and he was almost sure he heard slight fear in his friend's voice. It hurt to know he was failing so badly. How could he have let himself frighten Hermione?

"I'm sorry, Mate," Ron sounded genuinely remorseful and Harry wondered just how badly he had frightened his best friend.

Ron was sincere, that much Harry knew, but he was on the verge of asking them all to leave.

"You know Ron, Harry, always running off at the mouth," Neville tried to joke.

"It's just that they're all having fun," Ron tried again when Harry did not respond, "and you're stuck here and it's so bloody unfair."

Harry's anger seeped away and he slowly looked round; all three of his friends were looking at
him worriedly, only they didn't seem worried about what he might do, they were worried about
him. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to hug them, or scream at them not to be so stupid,
couldn't they tell he was dangerous to them. What to do next seemed like such a difficult thing to decide.

Eventually Hermione leant forward and patted his empty chair.

"Come back and sit down," she said coaxingly and gave him a winning smile, "no more talk of Slytherins, Ron promises, or he'll have me to deal with as well."

Now Ron looked aghast and paled considerable, which Harry found ironically funny. He
managed to smile slightly as he realised Ron was more scared of Hermione than his friend was of him. Seeing that, Harry felt just a glimmer of hope breaking through his dark mood; it was not a lot, but it was something to hold on to.  

Part 3:

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."

"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 calmly, 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 and 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.

He did not stop backing away until he hit the wall and then 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 more sure 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; as even 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 and 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 over heat."

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," his lover replied firmly. "Now, did you get enough yesterday, or are you still hungry?"

Harry examined his feelings at the question and 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.

====

Draco had to make an appearance at lunch in the Great Hall to avoid the awkward questions that came with him apparently missing so many meals, so Harry was left alone just before twelve. He had a nice long shower and then went back to his reading and research, in a much better mood than the one in which he had woken. Absorbing himself in the information in the books he managed to put the remaining guilt to the back of his mind, so much so that he did not even think about it until he heard a very familiar voice.

"Harry, are you busy?"

Shock and complete horror were Harry's initial reaction as he turned and found Ron's head
peering around the inner entrance to his room. It was then and only then that he remembered the instructions he had given to Jeremy to let his friends in if they called unless he was busy with someone else. He had been so wrapped up in what he was doing that he had never told the portrait any different.

"Um, no," Harry managed to reply as his eyes darted desperately around the room, looking for
anyway out.

"Cool," Ron said, seemingly not in the least bit phased by what had happened the previous day, "because we wanted to talk to you."

Horror morphed into abject terror as Harry realised that Ron had brought re-enforcements. As his three friends trooped through the door he seriously considered making a dash for the bathroom and locking himself in. All three appeared very determined about something and although he had stood against Voldemort and his whole inner circle, Harry suddenly felt outnumbered.

"Hello, Harry," Neville greeted pleasantly in his usual cheerful, if somewhat befuddled, manner.

Harry didn't even try and reply; his voice was hiding somewhere, cowering in fear and he knew if he tried to speak he would just squeak at his friends.

"Harry, Mate," Ron said after a few moments of silence, "why do you look like there's a dragon behind us?"

"Ron," Hermione said patiently, "I think perhaps Harry's a little," she paused to pick the right word, "worried about what happened yesterday."

The tension had caused Harry's entire chest to tighten up and he was breathing in short little gasps, making his lungs feel like they were on fire. He tried very hard to calm down, but he was petrified. The image that kept passing through his brain was Ron's dead face from his dream.

"That's what we're here to talk about," Ron said brightly, which really did not help Harry at all.
"What Ron's trying to say," Neville decided to step in, "is that we're volunteering. Ron says that
Professor Snape reckons you need four donors, and there are only three of us, but we're willing to give it a go, if it's alright with you."

Harry just stared. He sat in his chair, forgotten book in hand and stared. He wasn't quite sure he
had heard that correctly. The idea would just not stick in his head; he'd mentally grasp at it and it would slip out of his reach. Neville had definitely said something about donors, but the dream image of Ron kept putting itself in the way of all his other thought processes.

"Harry," Hermione asked gently, moving forward from where she was standing in a line with the
other two, "are you feeling alright."

He blinked at her. This was Hermione, calm, rational, practical Hermione, she could not possibly be part of what he thought he might have heard, could she?

"I," Harry said, in his opinion, rather pathetically.

The mental image of Ron's dead face overlaid itself on Hermione's and he had to look away.

"Look, Harry," Ron's voice broke through the waking nightmare, "you're not blaming yourself for
what happened are you? It's not your fault, and it wasn't as if you hurt me or anything. It was rather good to tell you the truth."

There was the sound of a hand slapping an arm and Harry managed to look up to find Hermione had just hit Ron.

"What?" his best friend asked hotly. "It's true; he might as well know it. He'll only sit there
thinking we're sacrificing ourselves for him, and tell us not to be noble, when I, for a start, think it might actually be a bonus."

Ron really had no concept of the word subtle and for once Harry was so glad of it.

"Ron, did it occur to you that you might embarrass Harry?" Hermione asked pointedly, and the
simple, friendly dispute contrasted so completely with the dark thoughts moving through Harry's mind that it broke him out of his fear.

His friends really were standing in front of him arguing because Ron had just confessed that he
enjoyed being bitten. It was one of those laugh or cry moments that seemed to make up Harry's
life these days, and the rather disbelieving giggle escaped him before he could stop it. He had
never been prone to giggling and this sounded rather ridiculous coming out of his mouth, but he
had no choice. All three of his friends looked at him as if he was mad, which was a distinct
possibility the way he was feeling.

"Harry?" Hermione asked with a worried little frown.

"Do any of you know how dangerous I am," he asked quietly, the giggle dying, "what I could have done to Ron yesterday?"

"But you didn't, Mate," Ron said firmly, "and that's what counts.

"Let us help you, Harry," Neville said earnestly.

"We talked about it very carefully, Harry," Hermione assured him, "we know the risks. We looked everything up, and we're sure about this."

Typical Hermione, research a subject into the ground and go with her heart anyway. Only in this case she could not know everything, because no one did, not even Harry.

"We went to Madame Pomfrey," Neville explained further, "and she checked us all out. We're all perfectly healthy and this won't hurt us."

"But," Harry said looking at their sincere faces.

"No buts, Harry," Ron said firmly. "You can't push us away and we will help you even if we just
have to sit here until you lose control again. You're our friend, and you're the best mate a bloke could ever have; for once you're going to let us tell you what to do."

He opened his mouth again to protest again.

"Harry James Potter," Hermione said sternly, "give in, you aren't going to win this one."

They had moved closer over the conversation and now Neville moved up to join them. It was a
Gryffindor wall, but rather than needing to climb it and escape, Harry suddenly felt strangely safe, as if they were his own personal fortress.

"Okay," he said in little more than a whisper.

The smiles on his friends' faces were so happy that they took his breath away and he suddenly found himself at the centre of a four way hug. Strangely the dark magic inside him, which usually reacted to such contact, was almost silent, and he relaxed into the arms of his friends.

====

Only that lunchtime he had seen them all as they pledged their allegiance to him, offering their
blood as well as their friendship, and now here he was calling them back, sure that they would
hate his for what he had to tell them. Their gift to him had overwhelmed him and he had spent all day thinking. If they were willing to give him so much then he could do no less for them, and he knew he owed them the truth. He could not stop pacing as he waited for them to arrive. He had asked Jeremy to give him a quick warning before letting them in and he was on his twentieth lap of the room when the portrait finally announced that his friends were outside.

"Thanks," he said quickly.

They trailed in one after another, all buzzing with curiosity.

"Hi Harry," Ron greeted immediately, "anything wrong, Mate?"

"Um, not exactly," Harry said slowly, "but there are some things I think you need to know, and I wanted to tell you in person rather than you finding out second hand. Let's sit down."

His three friends made there way over to the table that Harry had decided was best for this
meeting and took places on three sides. Harry walked over to the fourth chair, but found that he was too nervous to sit down.

"Whatever it is, Harry," Neville said warmly, "we'll understand."

Biting his lip, Harry wished fervently that he could be sure of that. It was not that he did not trust his friends; it was that he knew them very well and Ron tended to over react, Hermione often over analysed, and Neville was far too easily shocked. He had no idea how they would take the information he had to give them.

"Well, you all know that I have certain, unusual needs," he began hesitantly as he tried to decide
which explanation he had worked out to use, "it's not just the blood."

All three looked at him supportively, willing him to go on.

"You may also have noticed that I'm a little touchy when it comes to Draco Malfoy," he continued slowly, searching their faces to see if any of them would guess what he was driving.

"You've only bitten my head off twice, Harry," Ron said lightly in an attempt to break the tension.

It didn't work too well and Harry began to pace beside the table.

"Well there's a reason for that as well," he said, plucking up his courage for what was coming
next; "I'm rather possessive and he's my fourth donor."

Ron looked at if his eyes might pop out, and Harry knew there was worse to come.

"And I'm sleeping with him," he said bluntly, at a loss how else to put it.

Total silence greeted this announcement. He came to a halt, looking at them, afraid that one or all of them would storm out in disgust.

"The incubus?" Hermione asked eventually in her usual analytical manner.

"Sort of," Harry admitted quietly, feeling as if the spell might break any moment and his friends
would we heading for the door, "but its more than that. He's not what he seems, he had as little choice in this as I did."

"But, Harry," Ron said in a surprisingly calm voice, "he has the Dark Mark; the Prophet reported
it and he's under house arrest here because of it. He chose You Know Who."

It would have been so easy to tell them the lies that he, Draco and Snape had worked out for the
Ministry and the press, to pretend that it was far less complicated than it was, but Harry did not want to lie to his friends.

"He didn't have much choice," he said, fighting down the emotions that threatened to wipe out his control and send him running for the bathroom. "He took the mark willingly, he told me as much, but it was that or face Voldemort's wrath. What he didn't realise at the time was that Voldemort wanted more than another Death Eater."

He paused, knowing that they had to know this to understand, but feeling strangely like a betrayer for telling anyone something so personal about Draco.

"He wanted a bedmate," Harry continued eventually, "and Draco refused him. That was why he
wasn't allowed back to school, Voldemort locked him up until he agreed. I was supposed to be
Voldemort's revenge; wake up as a dark creature, do unspeakable things to Draco and then kill
him. He looked after me when I first woke up, before the magic changed me, and then I just took
him when I woke up a second time. I told his mum to take him and leave when I went after
Voldemort, but he came back for me, I still don't understand why. There's something between us that I can't explain; he should hate me, but he doesn't."

Ron was definitely having trouble with the whole idea, Harry could tell, but he also knew that his friend was trying. There was a deep crease in his best friend's forehead as Ron sorted through his thoughts.

"So all the time he was a Death Eater he was locked up?" Neville asked for clarification.

Harry nodded.

"And he didn't really choose to join Voldemort," his friend continued to rationalise calmly, "he was pushed into it, it was expected of him."

Of all three Harry knew Neville understood family pressures the best; after all he was very much expected to be certain things by his grandmother.

"So he's innocent," Neville concluded calmly.

Harry could have cried at his friend's simple logic: Ron looked at Neville as if he had grown
another head. The frown slowly cleared, however, and then Ron looked back at Harry. His best friend was not yet ready to speak, but the disbelief was gone from Ron's gaze.

"That's why we're going to lie to the Ministry," Harry said eventually and glanced around at all three again. "The truth of it is that I thought the same as you until I woke up after Voldemort took me, but that's not what we're telling the Ministry, or they will try and make an example of Draco because his father is dead."

All three were true Gryffindors and they understood the sentiment of what was right rather than what was to the letter of the law.

"He did have the Dark Mark," Harry said evenly, "but it's not the same anymore."

"But I thought the Dark Mark was impervious to known magic," Hermione said straight away, "it only fades with time."

"Not my magic," Harry said quietly.

That made even Hermione's eyes open slightly in shock.

"Harry, are you saying you changed Malfoy's Dark Mark?" Ron asked a little incredulously.

Wordlessly Harry nodded.

"Why? How?" Hermione was ever the inquisitive one.

"Because he's mine," Harry snapped before he could stop himself. "He never belonged to him," he finished in a softer tone.

That rather bluntly put all his cards on the table, but he couldn't do anything about it. When it came to Draco he was very much of one mind.

"We're going to tell the Ministry it was always a fake," he explained slowly, "one that Dumbledore created. We're going to pretend that Draco and I have been together secretly since before the end of sixth year and that Dumbledore created the fake mark to prevent Draco having to join Voldemort properly. That way the Ministry will have nothing on him, they'll have to drop all charges. I just needed you to know the truth."

He looked them each in the eyes once.

"If they tried to send him to Azkaban, I don't know what I'd do," he said quietly.

Staring down at the floor he reigned in the darker thoughts this simple idea caused to stir inside
him and he didn't look up until a hand covered his own where he was holding the back of the
chair. He ran his eyes up Hermione's arm from where her fingers were covering his, then down
her other arm to where she was holding Ron's hand and on to where Ron was holding Neville's;
Harry suspected that if Neville had been able to reach he would have found his other hand covered.

"We're with you, Harry," Hermione said firmly, "whatever we can do we will."

"You and the Ferret seems mental to me, Mate," Ron said calmly, "but you know what I'm like,
give me a few weeks and it'll be like it was always this way; takes a while to get these things into my thick skull."

Harry managed a small smile at that, at least Ron recognised his strengths and weaknesses.

"As long as he doesn't hex me I'll be fine," Neville said with a little grin.

"Thank you," Harry said his voice thick with emotion.

The tableau held for a good few seconds before Ron finally frowned again.

"Harry," he said, his voice full of curiosity rather than anything else, "how long have you preferred blokes?"

Harry just looked at him blankly.

Part 4:

Harry walked in to the dungeon room at the Ministry to find that the benches were full and it
appeared that anyone who was anyone had decided to be present. Harry suspected Dumbledore's hand in the matter since at least this way Fudge could not sweep the whole thing under the carpet.

The only section of society missing, other than the children, was the press, and Harry knew
exactly where they were since he had had to dodge them on the way in. There were several gasps and some low whispering the moment those in attendance caught sight of him. Remus, Molly, Arthur, Hermione, Ron and Neville all gave him encouraging smiles as he walked to the chair before the adjudicating council. One was Fudge; one was Amelia Bones and the third he did not recognise.

Sitting down carefully he waited for what he was absolutely positive would happen, and true to
form the chains on the chair leapt into life; Fudge had obviously ordered him bound. There was a murmuring of unrest at the action, but Harry was not about to let it occur anyway. His magic
flared into life at the threat and the chains never reached him, becoming seemingly stuck in some invisible substance as they waved almost gently in the air.

"I believe perhaps a mistake has been made," Dumbledore said politely; "Harry is not a prisoner, why have the bindings been made active?"

"I ordered it," Fudge said angrily, seemingly believing that the headmaster was responsible for the halt of the chains. "This hearing is to ascertain how dangerous Harry Potter is to those around him, he must be bound to maintain court security. Release your hold on the chains, Dumbledore."

"Professor Dumbledore is doing nothing to them," Harry said in a menacing, but completely calm tone, "I am. Deactivate them now, or I promise you they will never work again."

It was probably not the best way to start the hearing, but he was in no mood to pretend. The whole situation was folly; Fudge had taken him out of the only place he felt secure and Harry wanted to make sure the man understood his idiocy. The Minister was now looking at him with something akin to horror, but Madame Bones came to the court's rescue, pointing her wand at the chair and speaking one word. The chains fell back to their original position.

"I protest," Fudge said immediately.

"Minister," Amelia Bones said calmly, "the chains are clearly pointless. Mr Potter is here of his own volition, he is not a prisoner and hence binding him to the chair is technically illegal."

That shut up the annoying little man and Harry sat on his desire to snarl at the Minister. Ripping
the man's throat out would be such a delightful pleasure, but even if Fudge was an incompetent moron, Harry doubted that action would win him any friends. Focusing everything he had on his Occulmency skills he held on to his darker side.

"I would suggest you call the hearing to order, Minister," the man Harry did not know said calmly.

"Enquiry hearing of the sixth of December," Fudge said through clenched teeth, "in the matter of
the magical status of Harry James Potter. Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for
Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Francis
Maxwell Agito, Head of the Department for Control of Dark Creatures. Acting for the defence, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

Harry looked into the eyes of the afore name head of Control of Dark Creatures and the man
looked back without flinching; he was impressed, from what he understood, these days that was a hard thing to do. With so many people around it was impossible to isolate what any single wizard or witch was feeling without revealing more of himself than he wanted to, so Harry had to be content with the truth his eyes beheld, rather than the truth his extra senses could give him.

"Mr Potter," Fudge launched in immediately, "are you, or are you not a Dark creature."

"I believe, Cornelius," Dumbledore countered pleasantly, "that this is the question which we have come here to discuss. That Harry has gained certain abilities from several species of Dark Creature is not in question, however, what he has become as a result of Voldemort's," a murmur went round the room at the Dark Lord's name, "meddling is yet to be decided."

"Quite," Agito said evenly, "perhaps, Minister, we should move on. The facts of the case should be entered into the record."

Whether the wizard was on his side or not, Harry rather admired Agito's technique. The instincts clawing just beneath the surface had labelled everyone on the bench an adversary, but the logical part of Harry was not so sure.

"In a case of such grave importance I call for the use of Veritaserum," Fudge said bluntly.

Harry went cold and was unable to completely hide the snarl that threatened; his lip curled and his fingers went white on the arms of his chair.

"If it pleases the Wizengamot," Snape's voice carried over the stunned court room, "I believe that to be unwise."

"The Wizengamot recognises Severus Snape, Potions Master and Professor at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Amelia Bones said smoothly before the Minister could object.

"Thank you, Madame Bones," Snape said in his usual cold tone, standing up where he was still to one side. "Mr Potter's physiology is not understood and he has shown adverse reactions to some common potions ingredients. To administer Veritaserum would endanger Mr Potter and the Wizengamot."

"I do not see ..." Fudge began to bluster back.

"To place any wizard in an altered state is dangerous," Snape continued smoothly as if the
Minister had not spoken, "due to unconscious magic; to place Mr Potter in an altered state could be tantamount to suicide."

That brought the whole room to complete silence.

"The Wizengamot relinquishes its requirement for Veritaserum," Agito said firmly, without bothering to look at either of his fellow bench members.

The expression on Fudge's face was furious, but the Minister had been out manoeuvred.

"Mr Potter," Fudge launched straight in again before either of the others had a chance, "on
Saturday the twenty seventh of November you went from Hogsmeade village to Malfoy Manor in the company of four Death Eaters, is this not correct?"

"Was taken," Harry said firmly, "by force."

He was no longer the scared fifteen year old he had been last time he had set foot in this room and he was not about to take Fudge's contemptible bullying. The Minister's attempts to skew the court record were, quite frankly, annoying rather than worrying.

"Would you care to tell the court, in your own words," Madame Bones put in before Fudge could react, "what happened that afternoon."

Having to sit quite firmly on his desire to tell Fudge exactly what he thought of him, Harry
nodded.

"Ron and I were in Honeydukes," he began as evenly as he could, focusing on the woman who
had asked the question rather than the vexing Minister.

"This would be Ronald Bilius Weasley, son of Arthur and Molly Weasley?" Agito clarified
calmly.

"Yes, Sir," Harry replied, though he really didn't feel like being particularly polite. "It was when
we walked out of the shop that it happened; there was a large explosion, at least I think it was
large, but I was right next to it and it hit me full on so I could be wrong. I hit my head when I fell
back and I vaguely remember a couple of people grabbing me, but nothing else. The next thing I
knew I was being dragged in front of Voldemort. He jeered at me for a while, gloated, the usual
thing, and then he had one of his Death Eaters force a potion down my throat. That's the last thing I remember except for vague feelings and pain, until I woke up in Draco Malfoy's bedroom."

He stopped, unwilling to just plough on unless he was pushed. It seemed that for now Fudge was more interested in the events he had described rather than anything else, if the malicious glint in the man's eye could be believed.

"So you claim you were not a willing participant in the Dark Magic performed on your person,"
the Minister said evenly.

Harry knew what was coming, but there was little he could do to avoid it; he just hoped he could
hold on to his temper better than he had when Caveo had accused him of the same thing.

"I offer into evidence the report of the specialist Auror unit who examined, revealed and
catalogued the spells performed to render Mr Potter into his current state," Fudge said, barely
hiding his glee.

"So noted," Madame Bones said formally.

"Mr Potter, are you familiar with the Crevitemero ceremony?" the Minister asked and Harry just
about managed to keep his features from showing his anger at the wizard.

It was a stupid question; they both knew Harry had no idea what Fudge was on about.

"No," he answered shortly.

"It is a Dark Magic ceremony to take power from one wizard and place it in another," the Minister
continued eagerly, "it requires the wizard receiving the power to be a willing participant. A
variation of this ceremony was performed on you."

A muttering filled the room and Madame Bones struck a large round stone on the desk to quiet
every one down.

"Could you be a little clearer in your definition of 'willing participant', please, Cornelius?"

Dumbledore's calm tones begged no argument, even though he sounded as if he had just asked the Minister to pass the butter.

"The participant is required to chant the ceremonial spells with those performing the power
transfer," Fudge said victoriously, "and hence Harry Potter must have been complicit in his own
transformation."

When Dumbledore did not immediately deny this Harry looked round at his mentor, to see what
the headmaster was up to.

"Come now, Cornelius," Dumbledore said pleasantly as if speaking to a child, "Harry had already
revealed that he was drugged. A drugged mind cannot protect itself. When I arrived at Malfoy
Manor on the morning of the twenty ninth of November I took the liberty of having Harry checked for traces of Imperio. The results I believe were positive and are also a matter or record."

Fudge appeared dumbfounded; the Minister had obviously not read that far in the report.

"I would put it to the assembled council that Harry was not complicit in his own transformation,
but was drugged to prevent his resistance of the Imperius curse, and was subsequently forced to take part in the Crevitemero ceremony," the headmaster said calmly.

Both Madame Bones and Agito nodded in agreement, Fudge had no choice but to come in to line.

Smug satisfaction was not something Harry often felt, but he experienced it now on Dumbledore's behalf. It couldn't last though, and he knew it.

"What happened after you woke up, Mr Potter?" Madame Bones asked kindly, but professionally.

He went cold again and the hostile feelings rose to just below the surface as every one became the enemy once more.

"I met Draco Malfoy for the first time since the train home after the sixth year," he said, picking his words very carefully and holding on to his feelings with an iron will.

"And?" Agito prompted evenly.

"He told me what had happened, what I was becoming," Harry said shortly.

"So at this point you were still human?" Amelia Bones looked sorry to have to ask the question, but her tone was firm never the less.

"Yes, Ma'am," Harry replied, trying to distance himself from the memory, "I could feel the power inside, but it hadn't changed me yet. I think the patterns were some sort of holding spell and only when they started to fade could the magic alter me. Once that started I passed out."

This time the murmuring sounded vaguely sympathetic.

"And when you woke up the second time," Agito asked plainly, "what occurred, Mr Potter."

"I did part of what Voldemort expected of me," Harry said, unable to keep the self-loathing out of his voice, "I had sex with Draco Malfoy, whether he really wanted to or not, and then I bit him."

"Are you saying you raped, Draco Malfoy?" Fudge leapt at the chance to confirm what Harry could not bring himself to outright admit without the anger he had shown Caveo.

"If it pleases the Wizengamot," Snape's voice carried over the room a second time, "I believe this answers that question."

Harry turned his head to look at the Potions master in surprise; he had not expected anyone to
come to his rescue on this point. He had not given Draco a choice, even if his lover had not resisted.

"What is it?" Madame Bones asked calmly.

"A written account of the incident in question by Draco Malfoy," Snape said evenly.

"Hearsay," Fudge said instantly, "if the witness cannot appear the evidence cannot be accepted."

"The document has the Malfoy family seal," Snape replied and the Minister's face fell again.

Harry didn't understand.

"There are only two individuals who may use the Malfoy family seal," Agito pointed out to the
other two members of the bench, "Narcissa Malfoy who is unlikely to produce a document
defending a wizard who attacked her son, and Draco Malfoy. Hence I do not see why the account should not be read into evidence."

"He could have been coerced," Fudge insisted.

"Mr Malfoy also requested that I present this if necessary," Snape replied and held out a small globe, "it is a memory ball of him creating the document."

Madame Bones nodded to a prim looking woman to her left who stood up and walked over to
Snape to retrieve the two objects. When the witch handed the parchment and the globe to the
bench the Head of Magical Law Enforcement peered into the memory ball before passing it to
Agito and then opened the letter. Harry just stared as she read, wondering what Draco would have said in the letter. The document and the memory ball worked their way through all three Interrogators and then back to Madame Bones.

"I believe the only section required for evidence it the last paragraph," she said firmly, and the look she sent Fudge dared the man to disagree.

Her companions both nodded.

"I, Draco Malfoy," Madame Bones read firmly, "was complicit in all actions upon my person taken by Harry Potter on the night of the twenty eight of November. I expected to die at his hand, as was Voldemort's desire; that I am not dead is a tribute to Harry Potter's character."

Total silence reigned around the room and Harry dared not look at anyone as conflicting emotions raged within him. His memories were too clear, and they excited the darker part of his nature, but what he had done still abhorred the human part. Whatever Draco claimed, it had not been a mutual choice.

"Perhaps you would care to tell us what occurred after this point," Madame Bones said eventually.

It took Harry a few more long seconds before he could lift his eyes from where he was staring at
the floor and meet the witch's gaze. They would pull every detail from him, he knew it, and he steeled himself against his own reactions.

"Mr Potter?" Madame Bones coaxed kindly.

"I left him unconscious on the bed and left the room," he said slowly and watched as Fudge leapt at the opportunity to interrogate him.

"How exactly did you do that, Mr Potter?" the Minister asked shortly.

The man was determined to reveal everything dark about Harry to the court and Harry glared at him without being able to stop himself.

"I changed into a wolf and jumped through the door," he said plainly, stating things directly being the only way he could deal with the emotions the memories recalled.

The murmuring around the court increased again, but quietened down before Madame Bones was required to call for order.

"And what did you do once outside?" Agito, asked evenly.

Harry's eyes flicked to Fudge, he knew that the man would have read the report and there was no point in trying to hide the truth. Circumventing the issue of who he had and had not killed was going to be impossible.

"I killed the Death Eater on guard," he admitted, trying to keep any emotion from his voice.

"How and why?" Fudge demanded instantly.

"Now, Cornelius," Dumbledore put in immediately, "the how is a matter of record, I do not believe it would serve any purpose to bring in such details at this time."

"I concur," Madame Bones agreed before the Minister could protest, "but the why is pertinent to this enquiry."

"He drew his wand on me," Harry said, knowing that Fudge would make an issue out of the matter if he hesitated and let the Minister have a way in; "he was a danger to me, so I killed him."

"Did it not occur to you to disarm the wizard?" Agito asked reasonably.

This line of questioning seemed to appease Fudge somewhat since someone else was asking difficult questions, but Harry's glare still focused on the Minister.

"No," he replied honestly, "nothing occurred to me except removing the threat."

"And if you were threatened now, what would be the result?" the Head of Control of Dark Creatures asked calmly.

"I don't know," Harry replied, unable to answer the question, "it would depend on the threat."

He really didn't know how to explain it, it seemed rather obvious to him.

"I believe what Harry is trying to say," Dumbledore entered in to the conversation slowly, "is that
his response is equivalent to the nature of the threat. Death Eaters have been trying to kill Harry for years; he had no reason to suspect less of them in this instance."

"So you considered everyone in that house a deadly threat?" Agito asked, obviously trying to clarify the point in his mind.

"Yes," Harry said immediately and then paused, "well all the Death Eaters. They were the enemy; they'd been torturing me for two days, what was I supposed to think?"

The anger at being second guessed and put on display twisted in the pit of his stomach, but he held himself very still to prevent a reaction.

"Quite," Agito said, seemingly satisfied. "Why did you clarify 'Death Eaters'? Surely all those at the Manor were in Voldemort's employ?"

"No," Harry replied, his mind skipping back, "I met Narcissa Malfoy at the bottom of the stairs,
she was only worried that her son had been sacrificed to," he paused, waiting for the memory to
crystallise, "'this madness' is what she called it. I told her to take Draco and leave, and then I went to the secret rooms under the kitchen."

His memory was already flicking forward to Voldemort and he was ready to go on, but Madam

Bones interrupted him.

"I'm sorry, Mr Potter," she said professionally, "but you're saying you met Narcissa Malfoy and let her go?"

Harry nodded.

"Did you mention this when you made your statement?" she asked evenly.

Harry nodded again; when Tonks had taken his statement, after Remus' first visit he had told her everything.

"Why is it not in the official record?" Madam Bones asked pointedly, looking at both of her
fellows. "If someone has been tampering with official statements I will have them thrown in Azkaban."

Fudge did not appear in the least guilty, but then Harry suspected the man had had a lot of
practice. A quiet rumble of a growl made it past his clenched teeth and he looked away to calm himself down.

"There must have been a clerical error," the Minster said as if he was perfectly innocent. "I will have the matter looked in to as soon as this hearing is over."

"Why did you let Narcissa Malfoy leave, Mr Potter?" Agito seemed to consider the matter closed and was moving on.

Harry let his mind trawl over the memory, trying to understand his reasoning. At the time he had not really been thinking, just doing.

"She was almost as desperate as I was," he said eventually, "and she wasn't a threat. She was like Draco, a prisoner of circumstance. I didn't need to harm her and she could help get Draco away."

All three members of the bench were looking at him when he glanced back at them this time; even Fudge seemed to be considering what he had said.

"I am sorry to dwell on the matter, Mr Potter," Madam Bones said kindly, "but would you mind
explaining why the freedom of Draco Malfoy was important to you? Surely once he had provided what you needed he was no longer relevant to you?"

"He was innocent," Harry said, not understanding quite what she was getting at. "I didn't know what would happen when I confronted Voldemort, I didn't want anyone innocent being hurt."

The witch sat back in her chair a small smile playing at her mouth and he realised suddenly that he had said exactly what she was hoping to hear. In that moment he knew that in this Madam Bones was on his side.

"So, Harry," Dumbledore said pleasantly, "am I correct in saying that even as a werewolf you maintained enough of your original personality to wish others out of harm's way?"

Harry glanced at his mentor now and he found himself in awe of the war of words being played
around him; it was almost as if the whole thing was scripted. Not quite sure of his voice at that moment, he nodded.

"Thank you, Harry," the headmaster said with a smile, "please go on."

Turning back he found Fudge glaring at him once more, but the other two members of the bench seemed to have relaxed slightly.

"Um," he said, trying to gather his thoughts again, for now his confusion quelling the anger which had been building, "I went to the underground rooms; Voldemort was waiting for me. He seemed to think that now I had so much Dark Magic in me I was his to command. I don't really understand it, he seemed to think he had created a Dark slave, it never seemed to have occurred to him that I might still want to kill him."

He paused for a moment, using his Occlumency training to distance himself from the memory.
"I played along for a while," he began again, concentrating on long, calming breaths, "until I was close enough to strike. Then I ripped out his heart."

No matter what steps he had tried to take, his proclamation of victory came out with a relish he
could not hide. It was almost as if he could smell Voldemort's blood on his hands and more than just the dark creatures inside him revelled in the recollection.

"You expect us to believe that You Know Who just allowed you to walk up to him and kill him?"
Fudge asked derisively. "Are you sure it was not more that you were now a trusted ally and killed everyone present to prevent them telling the world?"

That pushed the wrong button in Harry's head and he stood up with a snarl, fangs descending and supernatural defences coming to the fore.

"Voldemort has been trying to kill me since I was eleven," he said in a very low voice, resonating
the power he could no longer hide; "he did kill my family and as good as killed my godfather. I
would never, ever have pledged my allegiance to that monster. No Dark Mark, see," he finished coldly, holding up his arm and ripping back the sleeve of his shirt.

There had been some rustling and he could see the Aurors of the court with their hands on their
wands and several plain clothed officers doing the same in the assembly. In a second his gaze flicked around the entire room cataloguing every possible threat in an instinctive move, then with a last glare at Fudge, he sat down again.

"Minister, do you have any evidence to support you hypothesis?" Agito asked calmly, as if nothing had just happened.

Fudge appeared suddenly slightly awkward.

"No," the Minister said evenly, "I just thought it best to record Mr Potter's reaction first hand."

Agito wrote something on the parchment he had been making notes on all though the hearing and then looked up once more at Harry.

"What occurred once Voldemort," the official pronounced the name slowly and calmly, "was dead?"

Harry tried to banish the bloody images of rending Fudge limb from limb from his mind, but his
imagination was feeding off the memories he did have of the slaughter he had committed after
killing Tom Riddle. It was a few moments before he could make his fangs ascend back into his jaw and bring himself to answer.

"I went after Bellatrix Lestrange next," he said quietly;" she killed my godfather. I don't remember how I killed her; it's all quite hazy after that. All I know is that I chased them all down; his whole inner council and I killed them. I don't really remember anything clearly until Draco Malfoy came back for me, I think I wanted to be dead."

"And it was Draco Malfoy who alerted Headmaster Dumbledore and the Ministry," Madam Bones interposed smoothly, "is that correct, Mr Potter?"

A nod was about all Harry could manage. The self-hatred he had felt after the killing had faded,
but it still hurt and it was difficult not to allow it to take over again. He did not think the court would appreciate a banshee wail.

"Thank you, Mr Potter," Agito said calmly, "do you require a few minutes to compose yourself before we proceed?"

Taking a deep breath, Harry lifted his eyes and shook his head slowly. He was not sure how long
he could keep this up, and a break was unlikely to help. What he really wanted was to leave the room and never have to come back.

"I believe the next incident of interest to the court occurred the morning of the thirtieth," the Head of Control of Dark Creatures said in response.

"An incident in which three Aurors were injured seriously enough to require treatment at St Mungo's," Fudge put in his two pence worth quickly, "one was petrified."

The murmuring grew again.

"Thank you, Minister," Agito said calmly, "I am sure we will come to that."

Fudge appeared rather affronted at that, but something stopped the pompous wizard from reacting.

"Mr Potter," Agito continued, "would you please explain what precipitated this incident."

"I had to stop them taking Draco to the Ministry," Harry said plainly.

"Why?" the simple question came back.

"I..." the words caught in Harry's throat as he hit the barrier in his mind, "he...Draco was going to die."

Was all he could say and he looked to Dumbledore for assistance.

"If I may be permitted to explain," the headmaster said smoothly, "we were able to ascertain that Harry had a premonition of Mr Malfoy's death. This ability comes from the banshee power forced into him, and hence he cannot speak of it. The Auror in charge was informed of the situation and he chose to ignore the warning."

"Draco Malfoy bears the Dark Mark," Fudge blustered quickly, "it was of tantamount importance that he be taken to a secure location. The Auror in charge was following procedure."

"And endangering the life of his prisoner, Cornelius," Dumbledore said smoothly, "a banshee has never been wrong."

Even the Minister of magic could not really argue with that one.

"So you reacted when the Auror team attempted to remove Mr Malfoy to the Ministry, is that
correct?" Agito continued his questioning and headed off any confrontation between Dumbledore and Fudge.

"Yes," Harry replied very firmly, glad to have his voice back.

"Please tell us in your own words, what happened," the wizard requested in a professional manner.

It was not an easy thing to explain since he had mostly been working on instinct at the time, but he tried to make sense of what had occurred.

"I just knew they were taking him," Harry said, grasping for words as he went, "the banshee
knew. It was the worse feeling I had ever felt, like I would explode if I didn't react and the wail just happened. I couldn't stop it. I didn't mean to hurt the Aurors on guard, but I couldn't control it.

Everything in me needed to save Draco and I jumped out of the window. They were trying to put him in a car when I dragged him away from them; they couldn't have him, he's mine."

A reassuring hand on his shoulder brought him back from the memory and he looked up at Dumbledore as he gathered his thoughts.

"Why did you petrify Auror Blythe?" Agito did not give him much of a respite.

"He cast a Patronus when I tried to use the Dementor to keep them away," Harry said, automatically telling the truth without even considering it, "I just reacted. I had to protect Draco."

"Harry," Dumbledore said calmly, from beside him, "the Aurors were firing spells at you, were
they not; spells which can be deadly to the creatures which now make up part of your nature. Is this not true?"

Harry frowned.

"I don't know," he said honestly, "I supposed so; I would have done if I was them."

"Madam Bones," his mentor continued, turning back to the bench, "what is standard procedure when faced with a dangerous dark creature?"

"In the case of a Dark Creature which can be lethal," Madam Bones explained calmly, "and does not stand down, standard orders are to kill it."

"So when faced with a werewolf, a Dementor and a basilisk," Dumbledore said in a very reasonable tone, "it is safe to assume they would not have been trying to merely subdue Harry?"

"That is correct," the Head of Magical Law Enforcement replied.

"You have no proof..." Fudge tried to put in.

"My Aurors are highly trained," Madam Bones said firmly, "if they react incorrectly in a situation
they could die or worse. As is also standard procedure Auror Blythe's and Auror Patterson's
wands were inventoried and the spells used entered into their reports. Mr Potter was in mortal peril."

Dumbledore smiled at the witch with a short nod.

"Harry," the headmaster turned his attention back to the bemused young man, "when the Aurors were trying to kill you, why did you not kill them?"

Harry just sat there, blinking at his mentor blankly. He had never thought of it like that, and the question stunned him for a moment.

"I," he said, trying to answer it and having to pause. "They weren't my enemy," he said eventually, finding it quite a revelation himself.

"But they were trying to kill you, Harry," Dumbledore insisted gently, "doesn't that make them your enemy?"

"Not like that," Harry said without thinking, "Aurors fight on the side of the Light; they were only doing their jobs, but I had to protect Draco."

He remembered the desires that had flooded through him, the need to hunt and kill, but he also
recalled controlling them and it was not until now that he truly understood why. He could have
killed them easily, he had proved that with Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and he knew he would have had there been no other choice, but he also realised that he had not wanted to destroy them. The fight with the Death Eaters had been so different and now he knew why. He looked into Dumbledore's sparkling blue eyes a little in awe of what the headmaster seemed to have known all the time and what he had only just come to accept.

"Thank you, Mr Potter," Agito took over again with his seemingly habitual efficiency. "Is there
anything else we wish to ask Mr Potter at this stage, Interrogators, or do you wish to call your first witness, Minister?"

The look Fudge sent Harry was anything but happy.

"The Wizengamot calls Professor Algernon Priest to be a witness for the Ministry," the Minister
said eventually, obviously exasperated with Dumbledore and annoyed with the way things were going.

A short wizard with glasses and a closely cropped white beard stood on the left of the bench.

"This tribunal recognises Professor Algernon Priest," this time it was Agito who spoke the formal words.

"Good morning, Algernon," Dumbledore greeted pleasantly, although from the expression on the other wizard's face Harry did not think there was any love lost between the two, "for the benefit of those not lucky enough to be of your acquaintance would you mind explaining what you do?"

"I am the chief potions master for the Department for Control of Magical creatures." If Harry had been in wolf form his hackles would have stood straight up at that moment; he didn't like Priest at all.

"I do believe he's your witness, Cornelius," Dumbledore turned back to the bench and smiled politely at the Minister.

It was a toss up as to whether Fudge asked his questions or blew a blood vessel if the bright red
cheeks with little white spots were anything to go by. That at least gave Harry some satisfaction, which handed him some ammunition to help keep his dark side under wraps.

"Professor Priest," the Minister said eventually, "would you please tell this assembly all the dark creatures you have identified that now make up Mr Potter."

"Do not forget that Harry is human as well, Cornelius," Dumbledore said pleasantly; "if he wasn't, I do not believe we would be sitting here today."

Fudge just glared and then looked at Priest as if the headmaster had not spoken. The man in question produced a list from his pocket and began to read.

"I turned him down for the post of Potions master at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said quietly in

Harry's ear, which he appreciated no end as he tried to ignore most of what he already knew. "He has never forgiven me for choosing Severus over him, but Severus always was and always will be a superior potions master to Algernon."

Even trying not to listen, Harry couldn't help himself and when Priest finally finished he knew that the Ministry knew less than Snape. Of course they had not had access to more blood samples, but Priest had missed the Ethologi for a start, and a couple of others Snape had come up with over the last two days.

"Thank you, Professor," Fudge said in an oily tone as Priest finished.

Now the Minister seemed very pleased with himself.

"How can we possibly be asked to believe that Harry Potter is safe to remain at large with that many dark creatures within him?" Fudge said pointedly.

Dumbledore simply walked towards the bench and smiled, producing two parchments from within his robes.

"I believe Algernon missed a few," the headmaster said cheerfully, "and I have also included a list of which powers Harry has been shown to manifest from which creatures, and a list of his donors for any hungers which have come to light as well. Professor Snape has had more ready access to Harry so his research is more complete."

Fudge looked stunned and now it was Priest's turn to blow a blood vessel. For his part, Harry was not surprised; he had agreed to full disclosure. He did not want to be locked up for the rest of his life, but neither did he wish to be a danger to others and he had agreed that honesty was the only way to ensure this. Agito opened both documents, read them and passed them to Madam Bones.

"My compliments to Professor Snape," the Inquisitor said honestly, "some of these are very hard to trace."

Harry did not bother looking at Snape, he had too many other things to think about, like the pounding headache behind his eyes.

"Exactly what hungers are you referring to?" Fudge demanded, regaining his composure.

That was one question Harry could not bring himself to answer and he looked to Dumbledore for help. It was one thing knowing that you were reliant on certain things; it was another entirely to speak of it in front of so many people.

"Is it really necessary to discus this matter at the current time?" the headmaster asked pleasantly.

"The facts have been documented and entered into evidence."

"I believe it important," the Minister said pompously and Harry found himself staring at the floor in embarrassment and anger.

"Minister," Agito said calmly, "I believe it would be proper to move on."

Fudge looked about ready to explode and Dumbledore took the moment of the Minister's impotent fury to take over the floor.

"I put it to this Inquisition that Harry Potter has had the opportunity and incentive to kill on several occasions," the headmaster began as silence reigned over the room, "and yet he only killed those who were trying to kill him. As accounted before this assembly he has shown time after time that although he is changed, he is still human at his most basic level. We do not claim that Harry is in complete control, nor ask that he should be allowed to return to his previous position as yet, but he had been afflicted for only a week and already his abilities have improved. To lock away a young man, who has saved us all, for crimes he has not yet committed, and will never commit, is neither fair nor just. I submit that..."

"But there is crime that cannot be overlooked," Fudge was on his feet and he did not look happy
about something, but the Minister appeared determined, "one hunger that Harry Potter has fed which must be answered for; one hunger which cannot be tolerated."

At that moment Harry knew Fudge was playing his last card and he knew that it had to be an ace.

Every instinct in his body screamed at him to fly at the wizard and destroy his enemy, and he felt
his fingers actually dig in to the surface of the chair as he held on desperately for more than his own life.

"To what are you referring, Cornelius?" Dumbledore asked in a reasonable tone, but as the
headmaster touched Harry's shoulder in support, he could feel the tension running through his mentor.

"Bring him in," Fudge said shortly without looking at the door towards the back of the court.

The other two members of the bench appeared as in the dark as Dumbledore and when Harry saw who was led through the second entrance, he almost stopped breathing. There stood Wormtail and nothing could have stopped Harry as he surged to his feet, a snarl on his lips.

"Harry!" it was only Dumbledore's commanding tone that stopped him from tearing the traitor to pieces.

He managed to come to a halt a few feet from Wormtail, fangs bared and claws ready to strike;
reason was only a very tiny voice in his brain and it was Dumbledore's will holding him in place
not his own. He could feel the headmaster demanding of him control, and only that unwavering resolution held the monster inside at bay.

"We were led to believe that Peter Pettigrew had escaped," Dumbledore said evenly.

"He was found wandering the grounds of Malfoy Manor and brought to the Ministry," Fudge said firmly. "A wizard may kill in self defence, but what he may not do is devour a man's soul."

That shattered Harry's rage as he finally looked at the wizard in front of him. Wormtail looked at
the world with cold, empty eyes and suddenly a crystal clear memory jumped into Harry's mind:
He was covered in blood and he was revelling in the kill, but his revenge was not complete; there
was one more left to go. The slaughter had been efficient and bare minutes had passed since he
had killed the Dark Lord, and now only one remained, and he had Wormtail's scent as he ran up
the stairs. As he ran through the house and in to the open air, nothing could have kept him from his prey and he hunted the traitor with glee.

Wormtail was running along the drive heading for the front gate when he finally caught him and the wizard gibbered in terror as Harry loomed over him.

"You'll pay for everything you have done," he said with a deep growl in his voice, "you will know true suffering."

Wormtail had not even had the power to speak as Harry took him by both arms and pulled him
closer. There was only one fate good enough for Peter Pettigrew; one revenge, and he let the
coldness of the Dementor take over his body. As he leaned forward and opened his mouth,
Wormtail was helpless and it took less than a minute as he dragged the wretched wizard's soul
from his body. When all that remained was a husk, he pushed the shell away and turned back to

the house; his job was done.

Snapping back to the present Harry could do little more than stare at the empty eyes of the man
who had betrayed his family and his godfather. The coldness in his bones and the chill of the air around him let him know that the Dementor was in control, but he could not put it away. Looking into the shell standing before him he realised that his revenge meant nothing to anyone but him; Wormtail was as good as dead and all his actions would do was bring him down for a crime he had not remembered committing. In that moment he wanted to take back those few seconds, he wanted Pettigrew to know the torment Sirius had felt and the pain he knew every time he was reminded of his parents.

He was virtually unaware of the rest of the room, all he could see and hear was Wormtail, and he
found himself moving towards his victim. Someone seemed to be trying to stop him, but it was
irrelevant and he more glided than walked up to Pettigrew. Reaching out he took those empty
features in both hands, pushing Wormtail's mouth open with his thumbs on the wizard's lower jaw. Caught in his own power and desire he leant forward, and with his lips only millimetres from Pettigrew's, he pushed instead of pulled and something he had not known he was holding deep inside of him moved up and out of his throat. It hurt as he let the captive soul go and he lurched back the moment it was gone, breathing hard and collapsing to the floor in pain, but it was a strangely liberating experience.

His vision was swimming and his ears were ringing, and yet part of him felt as if a huge weight
had been lifted. He heard Pettigrew whimpering in terror and another part of him revelled in it, and he lurched to his feet, the Dementor gone for now, but hot anger replacing the cold creature.

"I told you Pettigrew was alive," he snarled at Fudge, "you said I lied and you tried everything not to bring him in here today because you knew it would show everyone the truth. He betrayed my parents; he framed Sirius Black for his murder; he restored Voldemort to full life. I may have dark creatures inside me, but you, Cornelius Fudge, are the monster. You have hated me since the day I told you Voldemort was back, simply because you were afraid. I saved my cousin from
Dementors and you tried to have my wand broken; you put Umbridge in charge of Hogwarts and
allowed her to try and ruin any chance the pupils had of learning to defend themselves, and you
allowed her to victimise me for lying when I was telling the truth. You took away every adult who
could help me because you feared the truth, and so Voldemort had another chance at the
Department of Mysteries. You even tried to have me expelled last year when you knew the truth, when you had seen it with your own eyes. You're not fit to be a Minister, you pathetic, frightened, little man."

He all but screamed the last part and only a firm hand on his shoulder stopped him from doing anything further. He didn't care about the court anymore, it didn't matter, and all he wanted to do was go home. Turning he met Remus' eyes and the werewolf nodded at him in understanding and agreement.

"Well done, Harry," Remus whispered quietly and opened his arms.

In need of support and comfort more than he could express, Harry fell into the embrace,
unheeding of whatever else was going on. Strong arms surrounded him and for a while all strength flowed out of him, Remus' comforting hold being the only thing keeping him on his feet.

"I request an adjournment," Dumbledore calm voice rose above the chatter in the room.

"Request denied," it was Agito who replied and Harry felt as if the world was falling away beneath him, "case dismissed. Harry Potter is released into the charge of Albus Dumbledore until such time as they both agree he is ready to once more take his place in the Wizarding world."

Without hesitation Madam Bones smashed her stone onto the desk in agreement and suddenly it was all over. What had happened to Fudge's vote, or Pettigrew for that matter was lost on Harry as he found himself being led towards the doors.

It was only as the outer doors opened that he remembered why they had originally come in the
side entrance to the chambers. It felt like a thousand flash bulbs went off at once. The chattering of the reporters went eerily silent when they finally saw him for the first time and Harry really couldn't take it. There was a simple choice; let his darker nature have free reign and sort out his metabolism or take the simply human way out. It really wasn't a matter of options at all and, grabbing weakly at Remus, he fainted.  

Part 5:

Harry opened his eyes slowly to find his head pounding so badly that he could hardly see. The
room around his swam into focus very reluctantly and, as he blinked, the low murmur of conversation beside him stilled.

"Harry," Remus' gentle voice said and he tried to make his eyes focus on the blob that he was sure  was the werewolf.

It was almost like needing glasses again, only then it hadn't hurt quite so much to make his eyes cooperate.

"How are you feeling?" his friend asked quietly.

"Like the Quidditch team if practising with bludgers in my skull," he replied blearily.

"If you can sit up, Mr Potter," Snape's cool tones cut into his head like knives, "I believe I have something which may help."

Harry was not happy about the moving idea, since the moment he tried the pounding increased,
but with Remus' help he managed to make it into a sitting position. At this point, a small flask was pushed into his hand and he upended it into his mouth without waiting to be told. It burned all the way down, but, as with most of Snape's concoctions, it was efficient and it began to work immediately.

"Although not the most effective pain killing potion available," the Potions master said evenly, "I can guarantee that Mr Potter will have no adverse reaction to this one."

"Thank you," Harry said, genuinely grateful as the pounding began to reduce to a manageable level.

Now that he was upright and could use his eyes without fear of reprisal from his brain, he recognised the inside of Arthur's office at the Ministry, and everyone who had been at the hearing with him seemed to be squashed into it. He had been lying on a couch and he suspected that someone had transfigured it.

"How long was I out?" he asked quietly.

"Only about ten minutes," Remus it appeared was spokesperson, "which considering what Fudge put you through is nothing."

The cold feeling came back as Harry remembered what had happened in the court room, but this time it was internal and the Dementor did not make an appearance. The dispassionate, logical part of his mind rationalised that it was probably too weak after returning its only food source. How he had managed that was beyond Harry, and he just couldn't fit his mind round the idea.

"I didn't know," he whispered to Remus, horrified by the whole thing, "I didn't know I'd done it."

"I know, Harry," Remus said soothingly, "and if Fudge hadn't had Peter whisked off you would undoubtedly have undone it far sooner than today. That man is an idiot."

"I had him inside the whole time," Harry continued to whisper in disgust, "and I didn't know. How could I not know?"

The ideas that reliving the memory caused in him brought most of his rational thought to a halt.

The Dementor had been his greatest fear for so long and that he had been capable of doing that to someone else was abhorrent to him.

"Dementors cannot give back souls, Harry," Remus said as if reading his mind, "they consume
them. You took Peter's soul in revenge, but you did not consume it. That you gave it back is nothing short of a miracle."

The werewolf's words made sense, but they could not reach the core of what Harry was feeling.
The horror of having to relive his kidnapping and all subsequent events was too much for him
with the whole Wormtail incident on top. The darkness in him was flooded out by simple human distress.

"Please, can we go home?" he asked a little desperately and then he burst into tears.

Remus pulled him close and he sobbed into his friend's shoulder as the stress of the day poured out of him.

"Yes, Harry," Remus said gently, but firmly, "we'll take you home now."

Right then Harry didn't care how they made it back to Hogwarts; all he wanted was the safety and security of his room at the only place that was really his home. At that moment he was not some complicated Dark Creature he was just a boy on the edge of being a man who wanted to return to where he belonged.

====

Harry was a wreck, this much he was sure of and he barely made it back to Hogwarts. Apparating was not recommended for anyone not of completely sound mind so they had flooed. Having staggered out of the fireplace in Dumbledore's office he had managed to say goodbye to everyone except Remus, without whom he tended to sway worryingly, and the headmaster, who helped return him to the corridor containing the Room of Requirement without the rest of the school seeing him. It was interesting to find out how Dumbledore managed to move around the school so efficiently; the castle made passages for him if he requested it and the route to the upper corridor was by ways Harry had never seen before.

What he said to Dumbledore he had no idea, and he barely managed to tell Jeremy to let them into the room. Only as Remus half walked, half carried him into his living quarters did some of Harry senses switch back on and he looked up to see a very worried-looking Draco come to a halt in the middle of the room with a paper forgotten in his hand. His lover was staring at Remus warily, and it then occurred to Harry that having not been able to stay at Hogwarts over the last week, Remus was unaware of what had been going on with Draco. As far as Remus knew, Draco was a vaguely hostile victim of Voldemort who for his own reasons had chosen to call in Dumbledore, not a friend and definitely not Harry's chosen lover.

"What in Merlin's name happened to him?" Draco demanded rather shortly, and continued his progress to Harry, which pleased different parts of him for very different reasons.

The moment his lover was in reach, Harry's arm snaked out to pull him closer and, with Remus on one side and Draco on the other, he let his head fall onto his lover's shoulder. Just the smell of Draco and the feel of him so close helped calm his raging thoughts.

"He gave back a soul," Remus said eventually and Harry knew his friend sounded confused and reluctant.

"Stupid Gryffindor," Draco said pointedly, "what did you go and do that for; they could never have proved it was you?"

That made Harry's head come up again as he looked his lover straight in the face. Something about Draco's tone caught his attention.

"You knew," he said plainly, totally at a loss to explain it any other way, "how?"

"I saw you, on the way out with Mother," the Slytherin said as he looked Harry over rather worriedly.

Harry couldn't quite comprehend that.

"But you came back," he said incredulously; Draco had seen him eat Wormtail's soul and yet he'd still come back.

"I told you I couldn't explain why I came back," his lover said pointedly, "so don't ask me. Why did you give the slimy bastard his soul back?"

"Fudge dragged him into the hearing," Harry said angrily, the heat in his belly giving him some of the strength he seemed to have lost, "I looked him in the eye. What was I supposed to do?"

"Let him rot," Draco replied resolutely, "he's a coward and a liar. Voldemort brought Dementors to the Manor at times, there would have been traces; Fudge could never have proved it was you."

Something was off here, his lover's argument sounded almost personal.

"What did he do to you?" he asked a little more gently, still annoyed, but curbing his reaction with concern.

Draco pulled away, anger on his face, but Harry knew it was not at him.

"He was Voldemort's messenger," the Slytherin said shortly, obviously uncomfortable with
talking about the situation with Remus present, "he would come to my room every night with

Voldemort's latest offer. He was a lackey of the worst order."

The last few words were spoken with a finality that Harry recognised and he knew he would not
extract any more information out of Draco, at least not with Remus there. Gathering his strength he pulled himself away from the werewolf and turned to look at his friend.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, "I wouldn't have made it without you."

"You're welcome, Harry," Remus replied, his eyes flicking to Draco, "alright if I come and see you later?"

Harry nodded.

"That would be great," he said honestly, "I'll send Dobby when I'm free if that's okay."

Remus smiled at that.

"Dumbledore has given me a room for the night," the werewolf replied, "so I'll be here all
afternoon and this evening, until tomorrow lunchtime in fact. Just let me know when to visit."

Harry squeezed Remus' hand and then his friend headed for the door at which point he turned his attention back to Draco. The Slytherin's back was taught and he resonated tension; Draco's dislike of Wormtail seemed to run almost as deep as Harry's. Taking a step towards his lover, he reached out and then discovered that walking and standing up were two different things and although he had strength for the latter, he did not have for the former.

"Oh bugger," he said pointedly as his knees began to cave.

Draco turned instantly, but even with Seeker reflexes he was just that bit too far away to be of
assistance. Shifting his weight on the way down, Harry managed to land on his backside, but the bounce still hurt and he growled rather loudly at himself and the world in general.

"Temper, temper," was Draco's opinion on the matter, which earned the Slytherin another growl for his trouble.

"Are you bloody going to help me up or not?" Harry demanded waspishly.

"And there I was going to be nice to you and take your mind off your awful morning," Draco said as he bent down to help drag Harry up.

It then occurred to Harry that it wasn't even lunch time and his lover was not actually supposed to be there.

"Shouldn't you be in lessons?" he asked, trying to distract the distinctly surly part of his nature that was doing its best to surface.

"I couldn't concentrate," Draco said without the slightest sound of remorse, "so I came here to wait. So far no one has tried to pry me away."

Harry snorted his acknowledgement of that statement; there would have been little point, Draco was almost as stubborn as he was. With help Harry found that standing up was much easier and it didn't take too much to manoeuvre him to the bed. He ended up on his back, staring at the ceiling and looking up at Draco who was standing over him. Gazing into his lover's intense grey eyes, Harry felt the incubus in him stir, unfortunately the desire was there, but he had absolutely no energy to do anything about it. However, Draco must have seen the need in his face because he climbed on to the bed.

"You look like you could sleep for a week," his lover said, calmly throwing his leg over Harry and straddling him, "but I won't get further than a couple of feet will I?"

That was a very good assessment of the situation as far as Harry was concerned; he had no
energy, but that didn't mean that if his darker side took over completely he wouldn't find some from somewhere.

"Stay put," Draco said firmly, "let me do the work. Where's you wand?"

Harry fished in his pocket and gave his lover his wand without a second thought. Only as Draco
looked at him thoughtfully and waved the wand did he realise how strange that could have
seemed, since he had just given an ex-Death Eater his only weapon. As Draco spoke two words that Harry did not catch he felt magic leap at him and suddenly he was completely naked.

"What did you do?" he asked, a little shocked by the sudden lack of clothes.

"A spell Father taught me when I hit sixteen," Draco said unrepentantly. "Just don't ask me what he intended me to use it for. Your clothes are over there."

His lover pointed vaguely to the left, but Harry did not bother to look, he was more interested in Draco.

"You still have yours on," he pointed out with the usual burr in his voice that came with the incubus' arousal.

Draco pointed the wand at himself and spoke the same two words; this time Harry committed
them to memory, he could see this charm being useful in the future. Suddenly they were skin on
skin and he felt his power jump in response as his body and magic reacted. Energy radiated between them wherever they touched and Harry felt the lethargy falling away.

"Try and keep it inside, Harry," Draco said breathily just as Harry felt his physical body start to change.

"I can't," he replied as, in response, he tried desperately to grapple with his reactions.

"I think you can," his lover said with a smouldering smile, "just for a minute, for me."

It was like trying to hold on to water, and Harry had no idea why Draco had asked this of him, but he did his best. With efficient, but careful movements Draco pointed the wand at himself again and rattled off three charms in quick succession. The feel of the magic was almost more that Harry could take and he clung on to his more human appearance by the skin of his teeth.

"What was that?" he asked in a desperate attempt to keep at least a portion of his mind distracted.

"Cleaning, relaxing and lubricating spells," Draco said, placing the wand on the bed; "not as much fun as manual methods, but useful at times like this."

Harry groaned at the mental image that gave him.

"Not long now," his lover said playfully, "it'll be worth it, I promise."

The incubus in him wanted control, and it wanted control immediately; Harry had never fought it before and it was almost worse than the vampire as it fed off his body's reactions. He was already hard; one sniff of Draco these days and his anatomy made itself known, and he needed to let the transition occur for his arousal to become complete.

When Draco lifted himself into a crouch and then took hold of Harry's cock in one hand he knew what was coming and he had to bite hard on his lip and dig his talon like nails into the palms of his hands to hang on to the incubus.

"Draco," he begged as thought tried to flee at the sensation of his lover slowly lowering himself on to him.

Watching Draco sink down onto his stiff erection was possibly the most erotic thing Harry had ever seen, especially as his lover made the most enticing noises, head back and eyes closed.

"I can't..." he tried to tell Draco that he was about to loose control when the Slytherin opened his eyes again and looked him straight in the eye with the most wanton expression of lust.

That was all the permission Harry needed and he let go instantly. Incubus power flowed into
every cell and he felt even the smallest change as his body shifted. His torso tingled as the rows of blunt spines erupted from his skin and his senses came even further alive. It was then that he realised what Draco had been after as he felt his cock lengthen and swell; the groan and complete abandon on his lover's face as Harry changed, stretching Draco from the inside, was the answer to any questions he may have had. The Slytherin's reaction was so extreme that Harry had to reach up and steady his lover as Draco's legs threatened to give out.

The feeling of tight muscle completely surrounding him was enough to make Harry pant out his pleasure as well and neither of them moved for a long moment. Seated almost completely in Draco he felt connected as he never did at any other time and he longed for the feeling to go on forever.

Dark magic moved under his skin, he could feel its currents as, woken from its sleep, it demanded to be fed. This angel crouched above him, surrounding him, was the nectar he required and he found himself growling low in his throat, almost purring. He knew how to elicit the responses he needed; the fulfillment in his lover which would shower them both in sexual energy, and he allowed the power inside him to trickle through the point where their bodies connected.

"Harry," Draco said breathlessly, whatever he was going to say being interrupted by the moan that fell from parted lips, "no more," another moan, "unless you want this over now."

He stopped the flow of power; now was too soon. The incubus wanted instant gratification and the energy Draco's release would provide, but his human side wanted this to last longer. Resisting the urge to flip them both and take over completely, Harry thrust up experimentally and the encouraging sound Draco made as his lover rode the movement persuaded him to do it again.

With the dark creature in charge, strength was not a problem, and Draco's weight was irrelevant as Harry pushed himself upwards, holding his lover in place with his hands and forcing himself even deeper into Draco's body. When he found the sweet spot of his lover's prostate the explosive gasp of air that Draco expelled informed him of his success, and the trickle of energy he felt being returned was a good indication as well.

The more experienced he became with sex, the more he could feel coming back from his partner.

The first time it had been all his need, his want, the second more of the same, but the last couple of times he had had enough control to appreciate the experience for its other merits as well. He was far more aware of Draco now; he had always known how to push the right buttons per say, however, he was coming to understand more of the subtleties. The eddies of energy from Draco spoke to his instincts, but he was also beginning to understand them at a conscious level.

Draco placed both of his palms on Harry's chest, urging him to a halt. The tightness of the muscles in his lover's legs and the straining stomach muscles holding Draco in place were all adding to the sensual images filling Harry's brain.

"Beautiful," he whispered, the burr of power even more pronounced now.

This human belonged to him; he had marked him; Draco had surrendered to him; and his lover
willingly came to him time and again. Yet his prize was still fragile, still vulnerable and he knew
he would do anything to protect what was his; Draco had become a part of him he would never
willingly let go. Grey eyes watched him from beneath long lashes and it was almost as it Draco knew what he was thinking, as if his lover understood what it really meant to be here.

"I want to know who you are," Draco said in no more than a whisper, "show me."

Slowly Harry sat up, supporting his lover with very little effort and maintaining their connection.
Instinctively Draco tensed as his centre of gravity was offset, and Harry could not suppress the groan that erupted from his chest as it wasn't just his lover's limbs that tightened.

"Relax," he said breathlessly, "I've got you."

"How strong are you?" Draco asked as he did as he was told.

"Don't know," Harry replied with a small smile, and he really didn't, he'd had no reason to test his limits.

"I'm trusting you not to drop me," his lover said slightly nervously.

"I'm not going to drop you," he replied, bracing his feet on the end of the bed.

Draco opened his mouth to reply, but Harry had other ideas and moving his pelvis he
experimentally thrust forward and up; whatever his lover had been about to say dissolved into a
very satisfied moan.

"Okay," Draco said, placing his hands on Harry's shoulders, "you drive."

That caused him to grin and he began to move in a rhythmic manner, and all responses from
Draco; physical and magical indicated that he was hitting exactly the right spot. It was not easy, but it was fun and his earlier weakness was completely forgotten as he made love to the beautiful Slytherin in his arms. Magic and sex were a heady mixture between two normal wizards and between an incubus and a wizard it did not take long for the rest of the world to fade into insignificance.

Power and arousal built in equal measure and eventually Harry could not prevent himself allowing magic to flow into his lover as they came together time and time again. The grip on his shoulders became harder and harder and Draco's eyes closed in ecstasy as they moved in harmony. The rubbing of his lover's cock against his stomach was stimulating more than just the nerves where it touched and Harry knew that neither of them would last much longer. The energy they were generating actually began to pickle on his skin.

"What's that?" Draco voice was almost non-existent, but the Slytherin still managed to groan out his question.

It seemed to Harry that the universe was determined to surprise him at the most inopportune moments, but it made little difference as the power level shot up in response to Draco loosing all coherence. That was all that was needed to send both of them spiralling over the edge and Harry found himself clinging to Draco as their rode out their sexual high together. When they were together, Draco was never a quiet lover and the loud, shuddering cries of completion that seemed to fall, unfettered from the Slytherin's mouth filled Harry with a deep seated joy he did not understand.

His lover was holding himself away from him at arms length, almost as if he could not bear any
further skin on skin contact, and possibly Draco couldn't, since power flowed between them
wherever they touched. Harry wanted to crush his lover to him and flood him completely, but he
also did not want to hurt Draco in any shape or form, not now, so he clung on, allowing the
Slytherin his space. However, the energy coursing through his body seemed to have other ideas
and as the magic crackled between them, he saw a spark arc from Draco's chest to his and back
again. Grey's eyes that had closed to ride out the waves of passion opened in shock and stared
down as the little bolt of lightening continued to dance across their skin. Never before had the
energy transfer been visible and Harry stared as much as Draco, but he was far too entrapt to do
anything other than look until the strength in Draco's arms suddenly gave out and they were too close together to see anything.

When they finally started to come down he found that Draco was sitting in his lap, rather than
crouching even partially and they had slipped apart. He was breathing hard and he was buzzing
with the power they had generated, but the tiredness was beginning to touch at the edges of his consciousness again. It seemed that sex could invigorate him, but it could not completely remove the lethargy which his earlier activity had caused. Draco also appeared somewhere between dazed and ready to go all over again, making Harry grin rather like a loon.

"Are you going to explain the little lights?" his lover asked eventually, his head still resting on Harry shoulder.

"Can't," Harry replied honestly, since he had no idea why or what this new turn of events meant.

"You going to tell me why you seem to hate Wormtail as much as I do?"

"Oh, of course," Draco replied with a laugh, "about the same time you let me top."