I started this story as an exercise in smut and now a year later and some 130,000 words later it turned into a story that I genuinely enjoy. I thought at first, 'How can I avoid the tropes' that have been so commonplace lately, but then I realized. I like those troupes. Instead of fighting that impulse, I ran with it. This story has been a labor a love. I'm really proud of it. I obviously don't own any of these characters, they belong to JK Rowling. So, without further ado, here is my revision of Harry Potter's Sixth Year. I give you Harry Potter and the Vampire's Rune.

I

Draco Malfoy was, in a single word, bored. That tended to happen when you were locked in a dungeon with barely enough room to stand. Not that he could. For the past week his wrists had been shackled to a surprisingly strong chain that kept Draco from fully utilizing his small prison. He supposed both the cage and the chains were his fault. After all, given the chance he had ripped that stupid Death Eater's arm off and sucked every last ounce of blood out of the hole the severed limb left as the man screamed. Idiot. What did he think was going to happen when he got too close to a new vampire.

That was the second of Draco's problems. Boredom and hunger. The dungeon he was in was cold, damp and dark, none of which bothered Draco, though he was piqued that it was his own dungeon. The boredom and the hunger though took turns fighting for his attention. He shifted to his knees for a bit, giving his tired shoulders a break. Time passed slowly for Draco. He'd long lost track of days or even months. Idly he wondered if school was starting up soon. Hogwarts, in all its hypocritical glory, had taken on a new meaning for Draco. Instead of a place forced to go for his continued education, Draco wanted to go. He craved the routine, the clever monotony of classes and peers, friends and enemies. Hell, even being irritated by Harry Potter would be better than this timeless hell.

Draco spent most of his time alternating between wanting blood so much that it hurt, that he wished he had died when he had the chance, and sleeping from exhaustion. The sleep wasn't even restful. Not only was it impossible to get comfortable, but Draco was plagued by a recurring dream.

"Wait!" Draco ran into someone, knocking him off balance and destroying his focus. Voldemort was there, assessing Draco, as if for the first time seeing him as more than a nuisance.

Draco held onto a person's arm, tighter than he meant to. He was in shadow, Draco couldn't make out his face, but when he winced Draco didn't lessen his hold. "I have a suggestion, my Lord."

Voldemort, curious, came a little closer. "My Lord?" He echoed. "I was made to understand you had turned your back on us."

"Never. It was part of my plan." Draco heard his voice as if he were speaking from far away. He was surrounded with images of how he was loyal. All he wanted to do was prove himself to his father and to the Dark Lord.

Voldemort was laughing, indicating the shadowing figure. "How must it feel to be you? To be betrayed by one so close?"

Draco could feel the person trembling and shaking his head. "No. Draco?"

Draco still couldn't meet his eyes. He didn't want to see the hurt there, especially as Draco unarmed him. "I have a suggestion, my Lord, if it pleases you." Draco bowed his head.

Voldemort came closer still, thin lips curled in a cruel smile. "Continue."

Draco jerked the figure forward, "Use him."

A creaky door opened from the far side of the dungeon and Draco snapped out of his dream. He was breathing fast, the only side effect of the dream. Already it was fading away; nothing Draco did made the dreams stay with him. He leaned forward as someone came closer. At first Draco was blinded by the brilliantly lit wand. Light was rare this deep in the dungeon. Then he felt an alarming burning spreading across his face. "Dim that wand, your moron." Draco snapped. There was a startled scuffle of feet, a heavier person Draco noted, as the lumos spell was modified. Draco's eyes quickly adjusted and thankfully the burning receded. Greg Goyle was standing awkwardly a few feet from Draco's cage. "Well, well. To what do I owe this honor?" Draco sneered. "You'll forgive me for not standing, old friend, won't you?"

Goyle was scared, sweating profusely. "You...We had to do something. You kept attacking."

"One tends to do that when they're starved and treated like an animal."

"You are an animal."

Draco lashed out, hands straining to grab Goyle through the bars. Goyle stumbled back, eyes wide. Draco felt his fangs drop as he struggled against the chains, knowing it was useless, but not willing to give up until the pain in his back and shoulders forced him back to his knees, panting for air. Starvation had made him weak. Still breathing deeply Draco glared at the larger boy. "You better not be here when I get free, Greg. If you are, I'm going to drink you dry and break your neck."

Goyle had recovered from the shock of seeing the murderous intention in his one time friend's face. His father was right. Everyone was right. Draco was a monster now, an animal. New vampires could only be destroyed if they were completely starved and weak. Then and only then could the sun turn them to ash. Goyle could tell Draco was near to that point. Blue veins crawled up and down his face, his arms. His skin was nearly grey and for the first time in his life Draco looked ragged, torn clothes with dust, dirt and blood on them and yet he still had that Malfoy arrogance in his eyes and tone. Well, Goyle was higher now than Draco. Vampires were less than mudbloods in the order of things. The Dark Lord had hoped the transformation would kill Draco, but now they were forced to improvise a different punishment for Lucius Malfoy's failings. They'd destroy Draco the old fashion way: sunlight. But he needed to be weaker. That's where Goyle came in. He pointed his wand toward Draco who braced himself.

"Go on then. Get it over with. Just remember, you have to mean it, Goyle." A red streak of light flashed from Goyle's wand and Draco roared in pain. The spell burned him, spread through his body like a wildfire and blazed through his veins, his muscles, his bones. There was no fighting it. Draco heard a sickening snap and more pain lanced his body as he broke a clavicle. When they first started using the Cruciatus to weaken him Draco had fought and refused to make a sound as they tortured him. He didn't have the same resolve now. He heard his screams as if from far away, like the monstrous sound wasn't coming from his own lips. His body acted on its own, thrashing and twisting, doing extra damage as he pulled against chains. The worst part was knowing that no matter how long these sessions went, Draco would never, could never die from it. No, Draco would just lose the ability to heal himself and then they would throw him into the sunlight where he'd go up in flames. Like the same fire that was burning him alive.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Goyle stopped the spell. Draco collapsed on the floor, arms bent awkwardly as he tried to roll into a ball. The lingering effects of the spell made his limbs twitch and Draco groaned once before closing his eyes. He held very still, no breathing, no heartbeat, nothing. A random plan was forming and Draco waited, seeing if Goyle would take the bait.

"Draco?" That didn't take long. Draco continued not to move. He heard a few unsure shuffling of feet. "Draco, get up." Inwardly Draco was pleased to note the bit of panic in the other boy's voice. All he needed was for Greg to make one mistake. One tiny, and yet, enormous mistake. "Shite." Metal clanged as a key fit into the lock. Draco listened as the cage door was opened. That wouldn't be close enough. Greg would have to be nearly on top of him. "Draco, you better be dead." A heavy foot impacted Draco's torso and still he remained lifeless, ignoring the muffled snap of a broken rib. "Dammit."

Draco knew the moment to act was upon him. Greg's meaty fingers touched Draco's neck, searching for a heartbeat. Fool. He was an undead and starved. A heartbeat was only useful if there was blood to circulate, which Draco had none. That was a problem he was about to alleviate. Draco gathered every last ounce of strength he had and launched. His shackled arms just reached Greg's neck and in a vice grip Draco pulled him closer and sunk his teeth straight into the jugular. The flow of blood was a lifeline, filling Draco, healing him, supplying him with strength and speed. Draco felt the sting of a spell and tore away from Greg's neck with a roar. Fresh blood coursed through Draco's body. He snapped the chains on his wrists and snatched the wand out of Greg's shaking hand. Greg's other hand was covering his throat, a steady flow of blood dripping down from two puncture wounds.

"Draco...Draco, please. Don't kill me...I'm your friend."

Draco laughed, bending down so that he was eye level with Goyle. "You were never my friend." Goyle's scream was cut short as Draco's teeth crushed his larynx. He drank until the blood stopped flowing. Draco wiped his mouth and glanced at the corpse of Gregory Goyle. He had always seemed large for his age, but now he was grey, lifeless and slack, like the air had been let out of a balloon. Draco was breathing deeply as blood once again flowed through him, repairing the broken bones and the weakened tissue. His heightened senses were coming back to him as well. There were voices above him, several floors up. A breeze was coming from deeper in the dungeon. Goyle's wand in hand, Draco followed the fresh air. Most dungeons had a secret exit to dispose of the dead. Malfoy Mansion did. Though the dungeon was pitch black, Malfoy saw where he was going.

Hidden behind a large stone boulder, Draco could feel the air rushing past him. Draco grabbed the stone with his two hands and shoved it to the left, grunting with the effort. A passage with dirt walls and floors sloped downward. Draco didn't know what was down that path, his father never told him, but anything was better than staying here. Pocketing Goyle's wand, Draco ran down the path and toward freedom, the boulder behind him falling back into place.

The spirals, columns, and towers of Hogwarts had never looked more wonderful to Draco. After a few trials with Goyle's wand, Draco had finally been able to apparate close enough to see the castle in the distance. The night was cool and bathed in dark blues and purples. Only a few lights were on in the castle. Was it still summer? Taking a deep breath Draco determinedly walked to the front doors of Hogwarts and knocked loudly.

One door opened and Filch peered out with his lit lantern and Mrs. Norris rubbing around his ankles. Filch gazed at Draco up and down with a sneer. "This isn't a hotel. Go away."

Draco grabbed the door, pulling it out of Filch's grip easily. "Filch, it's me, Draco Malfoy. Can I speak with Dumbledore?"

Draco was amazed at how quiet the castle was with no students. He could easily hear his own footsteps, Filch's labored breathing and even the cat's quiet padding. For the first time in a long time Draco let himself breathe deeply. No one could hurt him here, not within the wards of Hogwarts. Honestly, Draco was surprised the wards allowed him entrance. Apparently Draco wasn't considered a threat, vampire or not. Filch led him to the stone gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office and motioned for Draco to wait.

Filch disappeared in the hidden stairs and came back a few minutes later. "The Headmaster is away, but should be back any moment. Don't touch anything; you're filthy."

Draco snarled, pleased when the groundskeeper flinched before walking away, grumbling under his breath about spoiled, uppity students. Draco sighed and leaned against the wall. Doubts and worries swirled in his head. Was this really the best idea he had? Obviously remaining loyal to Voldemort was no longer an option, but did that mean he had to throw in his lot with Dumbledore? If nothing else, Dumbledore had a history of sheltering students with certain...issues. At least he had been willing when the one involved was a Gryffindor. For a Slytherin? Draco would have to wait and see.

Harry yawned. Dumbledore's arrival at Privet Drive had been sudden and out of the blue, but very welcome. Harry had spent the entire summer locked inside his room, only being let out for bathroom breaks and to prepare the meals for the Dursleys. His room had turned into a veritable prison and Harry was glad to be back at Hogwarts, even if it was in the middle of the night. Dumbledore picked up a folded parchment. The headmaster's bushy white eyebrows shot up in surprise. Harry waited to be told what was in the message. Instead the Headmaster cleared his voice. "You may go, Harry. I'll speak to you in the morning."

"Oh, of course Headmaster." Harry might have pressed the issue if he hadn't been so tired, but as it was he was glad to be dismissed. If he was lucky he'd be able to catch a few more hours of sleep before the carriages arrived.

"Harry?"

Harry paused, one foot hovering over the stone steps leading down. "Yes Professor?"

"Will you send Mr. Malfoy up to see me as you go."

Harry frowned. Malfoy was here? Harry nodded and followed the steps down, unsure what he would see. Harry peaked around the corner and then sucked in a breath. Draco Malfoy was leaning against the wall, one leg braced on the floor and the other on the wall. His blond hair was matted and was that blood on his clothes? The shirt he wore was torn and dirty, the pants had holes on the knees and he was barefoot. Shocked, Harry approached Malfoy, who was watching him warily. "Malfoy! What happened to you? You look like hell!"

"Subtle, Potter."

"Seriously though, are you alright?"

Draco laughed, cutting the sound short when he realized how unhinged it sounded. "Not in the least. Why? Concerned?"

Harry hated the bitterness in Malfoy's tone. He had only meant to ask. "Not in the least," Harry mimicked.

"Fine."

"Fine." Harry began to storm off, cursing Malfoy's ability to get under his skin and then cursing because he had to backtrack. Malfoy was staring at him with his arms crossed. He looked awful, Harry noted again. Dark circles under his eyes, absolutely filthy and paler than Harry had ever seen him. Whatever had happened hadn't been pleasant.

Draco was uncomfortable with the sympathy in Potter's eyes. Merlin knows he wasn't deserving of it. "What Potter?"

"Dumbledore wanted you to head up."

"Next time lead with that." Draco rolled his eyes, climbing the stairs.

Harry waited until Malfoy disappeared before heading to his room. What was Malfoy doing here anyway? Shouldn't he be at Malfoy Mansion being pampered and spoiled? Instead he reminded Harry of the time he went up against the Hungarian Horntail: scorched and slashed. Whatever happened to Malfoy certainly wasn't part of a normal vacation. Either way, Harry was tired. The mystery of Malfoy would have to wait until the morning when he could ask Hermione for help.

Draco finished telling Dumbledore all he was willing to share. He had been turned into a vampire, held captive and recently escaped. The details would have to be dragged out of him one question at a time. No self-respecting Slytherin told the whole truth on the first telling. Now he waited as the old wizard stroked his beard, blue eyes focused on him unwavering. Draco sat still, waiting.

"Are you sure, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Am I sure?" Draco shook his head in anger. "I'm doing what I need to do in order to survive. At the moment, it looks like you're my best bet. At least I don't think you plan on locking me in a cage and starving me to death do you? Otherwise I could have saved you the trouble." Draco's fangs slid past his lips in disgust.

"Calm down, Mr. Malfoy. And no, I don't think a cage will be necessary. Will it?"

Draco shrugged. "The point is, I can't support the Dark Lord, not after this. Which means," he pointed between Dumbledore and himself, "you've inherited a vampire."

Dumbledore continued to stroke his beard. Draco Malfoy was nothing but transparent. He had no sense of loyalty, only a sense of self-preservation. "Very well, Mr. Malfoy, I'll provide sanctuary for you." Malfoy had done a good job hiding his worry, but there was a visible relief of tension in his shoulders. "With a few provisions, of course."

The distrust was back. "Of course." What had Draco expected? Everyone was the same, always wanting something from him. "What am I going to have to do?"

"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore sighed. Draco Malfoy was always a suspicious boy. Dumbledore didn't really blame him, not being the son of Lucius Malfoy. "The primary concern is the safety of the students."

Draco caught his meaning. "I don't want to drink anyone here."

Dumbledore was thinking. He knew of a few vampires. It was possible one was willing to offer some help. "That will have to do for now. Can you control the urges?"

"I've had plenty of practice," Draco sighed. There had been times in the last few months when the thirst had been unbearable. With no one or no thing to satiate his craving, Draco had been forced to ignore the bloodlust. Well, except for when he didn't. Draco decided to keep his transgressions private.

"Very well," Dumbledore continued. "What about housing. Are you safe within the walls of Slytherin?"

"No." Draco answered simply. "In fact," Draco shifted uncomfortably, "you'll be short a Slytherin."

"Oh?"

Draco nodded. "Gregory Goyle will not be returning for his Sixth year. Or any year."

Dumbledore saw a bitter regret flicker in Malfoy's blue eyes and decided not to pry. He'd have Order members look into the circumstances. For now, he was impressed with Malfoy's willingness to be honest with him. Or at least as honest as Slytherins and Malfoys were willing to be. "There's an empty tower near Ravenclaw. That will be safe enough, I presume."

Draco shrugged again. Who knew? Voldemort had signed his death sentence. Who knew if anywhere was safe.

"Then we come to Harry."

"Potter?" Draco couldn't hide his surprise. "What does Potter have to do with anything?"

"How do I know this isn't a plot to get close enough to capture or harm him?"

Draco laughed. "Trust me, Headmaster, I have no wish to be anywhere near Potter. Despite what you think, not everything surrounds your Golden Boy."

"No...you're right." Dumbledore noted how Malfoy grew still in surprise and Dumbledore decided to take pity on the young man. "Go find your room, Mr. Malfoy. I'll instruct the portrait to let you choose a password." Draco stood, doing his best to hide the wince. "Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore waited until Draco met his gaze. "If you need anything, please let me know."

"I'll be fine, Headmaster." Draco was used to taking care of himself. He didn't need anything more from the old wizard.

"Yes, of course."

Draco hesitated, but decided to find his room. Everything had already been said.

The sun was shining through the window and Harry cursed at himself for forgetting to close the blinds. Oh well. If the sun was up, he'd have to make breakfast anyway. He fumbled for his glasses so he could see and then blinked several times as his surroundings came into focus. Red bed curtains, not beige walls. A bright window, no bars. Harry sat up. Hogwarts. He'd forgotten that Dumbledore got him early. That meant today the rest of the students would be returning. Happy, Harry changed into a shirt and trousers. Time to go see his friends.

It was amazing the difference in noise when close to three hundred students were shouting and talking and laughing. Harry found Ron easily. He'd grown over the summer and was pretty tall now. Tall and still had bright reddish orange hair. Hermione found them not long after and the three made their way to the Great Hall. The first years looked terrified as they came into be sorted. Four made Gryffindor, so that was good news. Dumbledore gave another speech about unity and forgiveness and the strength of friendship before announcing it was time to eat. Seeing Dumbledore reminded Harry of Malfoy and he turned to scan the Slytherin table for the ever present blond. He wasn't there though. Frowning, Harry told Hermione and Ron what he saw.

"Serves him right," Ron said as he stuffed a roll in his mouth. "Whatever happened to him he deserves."

Hermione looked conflicted, but eventually nodded. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but Ron's right. Now Harry, please. I know that face. Please don't get obsessed again."

Harry scoffed. "I don't get obsessed with Malfoy!" Ron snickered. "Shut up Ron."

Hermione shook her head and Harry put his hands up in defeat. "Alright, alright. No Malfoy talk." At least not at dinner, Harry amended to himself.

For a while Harry was able to keep his promise about not focusing on Malfoy. After all, classes started up with a vengeance. Sixth year was a bit different. For once Harry found he had a choice in which classes he took and then there was the all mighty free period on Wednesdays. He made it through a week before Draco Malfoy was on his radar.

Charms was proving to be difficult. Mastering nonverbal spells took a lot of effort and concentration. It was during one session that Harry began to notice Malfoy again. He was in a corner of the room by himself, which in of itself was odd, but more than that was the state of his attire. Faded black robe, wrinkled shirt, a black tie and...trackers? Harry had never seen Malfoy wear anything other than shiny black shoes. What in the world? Harry moved a little closer, curious. Malfoy was sighing and frowning at the wand in his hand as he tried the nonverbal spell to transfigure the cup into a different object of their desire. The motions were too jerky, not fluid, like a first year learning how to use their wand. Malfoy was many things, but a beginner he was not. "Having trouble, Malfoy?" Harry hadn't realized he meant to speak to the Slytherin until the words were out of his mouth. Now that he had though, he approached the corner.

Draco rubbed the bridge of his nose. This was not what he needed right now. He was tired, hungry and irritated. Bloody Potter was bound to make things worse. "Go away, Potter. I'm busy."

"Yeah, I can tell...not sure with what though." Malfoy glared though Harry noted it lacked the usual venom. "What are you doing?"

Draco hesitated. He supposed there wasn't much harm in speaking to Potter. It wasn't like his social standing could get any lower. The Slytherins weren't speaking to him. In fact he hadn't been sleeping since he discovered a Fourth year sneaking into his new tower room ready to spell him. If anything, maybe allying himself with the Golden Boy would offer him some protection. "It's the wand, Potter. I was...forced to acquire a new one and it doesn't seem to appreciate me." Probably because I killed it's previous owner, Draco reminded himself.

"Oh." Surprised that Malfoy was able to have a conversation with him that wasn't laced with insults or threats. "Do you want to try mine?" Merlin, Harry thought, what is wrong with my mouth today? Harry held it out, but Malfoy sneered.

"Don't be an idiot." Draco was suddenly angry. Who did Potter think he was? Talking to him and being nice to him. Unless...Dumbledore. Draco narrowed his eyes. "So, had a talk with your precious headmaster did you?" Draco accused. He couldn't keep the anger out of his voice but he fought hard to keep his fangs from showing.

Harry stepped back as Malfoy's face contorted in absolute rage. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Want me to be your pet now, do you?" Draco was beyond hearing Potter. "Fuck you." Red pulsed behind Draco's eyes. He needed to leave before he did something drastic and stupid. Potter was watching him with wide innocent eyes. Hell, maybe he had just been trying to be nice. Screw him. Draco didn't need anyone's pity, anyone's mercy. Gathering all his control Draco pushed by Potter and rushed out of the class, completely ignoring Professor Flitwick's questioning calls.

Harry watched as Malfoy fled the room. Never had he heard Malfoy use muggle curse words before. Mudblood, blood traitor, Scarhead, but never an actual curse. It seemed wrong on him, uncouth. And since when did Malfoy flee a verbal fight with Harry? Usually they ended up in a real duel. Harry frowned. Something was definitely wrong with Malfoy. What did he mean about being a pet? Before that he had almost seemed willing to talk to Harry and now Harry was confused. "Um, Malfoy said he was feeling unwell," Harry told the Professor, unsure why he was covering for the moody blonde. Harry didn't know what was going on, but he knew he wanted to find out.

The next chance Harry got to observe Malfoy was in Defense of the Dark Arts the next day. Ron and Hermione were chattering about a Hogsmeade weekend. Harry was only half paying attention to their conversation. A larger part of his mind was focused on Malfoy. Again he was standing apart from the Gryffindors and Slytherins, his back against a wall. He looked tired, Harry noted. His hair had been cut sometime during the summer. It was short in the back and longer in the front, but it was lying limp across Malfoy's brow. There were dark smudges under Malfoy's eyes and...was he wearing the same clothes!? Before Harry could dwell on the mystery of Malfoy any longer the doors to the classroom opened and the Gryffindors made a collective moan. Rushing in, black robes billowing, greasy hair to his shoulders was none other than Professor Snape.

"What's he doing here?" Ron complained loudly.

Too loudly. Snape glared at him. "I'm here, Mr. Weasley, to give you some sort of education in the Dark Arts."

"The Defense against the Dark Arts, right Professor?" Hermione clarified.

Snape smirked. "If I want your opinion Ms. Granger I'll ask for it. Ten points from Gryffindor for insubordination."

Harry sighed as the Slytherin's snickered. Oddly Malfoy's expression hadn't changed. It was like he was uninterested either way. Harry held his breath, not wanting to further aggravate Snape. It was no secret that their Potion's professor had coveted this position. Seemed he finally got his wish.

Snape surveyed the room impassionately and flicked his wand to the chalkboard. Words began appearing and Harry recognized the spell as a Protego shield. There were some subtle differences to the wand strokes though. "You'll work in pairs. Practice until you can perform the spell flawlessly using nonverbal magic."

Of course he wasn't going to show them. That would be too much like teaching. Harry glanced around. Ron and Hermione had already paired up, which Harry was expecting. All around him the Gryffindors and Slytherins were moving away in twos, practicing the spell. Harry's eyes fell on the lone Slytherin in the room and approached him.

"No, Potter. Go away." Draco said instantly as he saw Potter coming closer. He felt a tiny bit of guilt at the hurt in Potter's eyes. It didn't last long before the green hardened.

"Don't be such a prig. Everyone is already partnered."

Draco followed Potter's gaze. "So they are." Draco worried at his bottom lip. He hadn't spoken to or seen Potter since their last encounter in Charms and honestly Draco hadn't wanted to. Apparently Potter was of a different mind. Draco shook his head and sighed. "What is it about you? Do you feel you have to gather all the misfits?"

Harry laughed. "Is that what you are now, Malfoy? A misfit?"

"Maybe."

Harry's laugh died out as he noticed the downward cast of Malfoy's eyes. "Are you alright Malfoy?"

Draco straightened his back. "Nevermind, Potter." That was close. Draco almost let himself believe that Potter cared. It was more likely that he was just being his normal, nosy, goody two-shoes. "Can we just practice?"

Harry took that as a default acceptance of their partnership, which was what he wanted anyway. "Sure."

They spent the next hour and a half trying to conjure the shield without using words. Draco was becoming increasingly agitated. No matter what he did the stupid wand didn't respond. He could barely get the spell right and even when he did the shield was weak, flimsy and ineffectual.

Harry could see the frustration on Malfoy's face and called a quick break. "Let me see your wand." Malfoy hesitated just a second and then gave it over. Harry pocketed his wand and traced his fingers down the wood. At 11'' long, Harry was used to the length of his wand. He was surprised at the length of Malfoy's new wand. It was several inches longer. Harry flicked the wand and cast a wordless lumos. The light flared so brightly Harry had to shut his eyes.

"Potter!"

Harry let the spell die quickly. Malfoy, for some strange reason, was on the ground, using a hand to shield his hand from the lumos. It had been his anguished cry that made Harry cancel the spell. Red streaks were on Malfoy's fingers and face where the light managed to touch him through his hand. He was breathing hard and Harry automatically offered a hand to help him up. "Are you alright?" Hidden in the corner as they were, no one noticed the light show.

"Fine." Draco snapped. Leave it to Potter to nearly kill him on accident. Stupid lumos spell was like a mini star. Stars were like suns. Normally lumos just hurt Draco's eyes, but the combination of not eating for a week and the surprising power behind the spell had started to burn him. Thankfully Potter stopped the spell before he actually caught on fire. Draco was shaking slightly.

Harry didn't believe him. Though the red streaks were fading as they spoke, a few blue veins were creeping up Malfoy's neck, just visible from under his shirt. "Malfoy…"

"Just drop it, Potter."

Malfoy's voice was deadly quiet. Literally. For once Harry decided to head the warning in Malfoy's tone and instead handed him the wand back. "I..um, think I know why you're having trouble with it."

Draco raised an eyebrow, thankful Potter was changing the topic. "Do tell."

Harry pulled out his wand again. "That wand is much longer. It takes different timing."

Draco mulled this over. He hadn't thought about that possibility. With this new insight he gave it a few experiment flicks and swishes. Potter was right. The reaction time was different. Draco concentrated and with this new knowledge set about conjuring the protego shield once more. Instantly the shimmering light poured out of the tip of the wand, the tell-tale sign that the spell was done correctly. Draco felt a tiny waver as an offensive spell hit the shield and yet it still held. Grinning, Draco looked up to see the same pleased grin on Potter's face. Draco dropped the shield. "Yeah yeah, Potter. Don't get cocky. You figured it out. Congratulations."

Snape called the end of class, not giving Harry an opportunity to further his conversation with Malfoy. In fact, Harry didn't see him anywhere. How had he left so quickly. Curious, Harry was looking around when Ron and Hermione joined him.

"Lose something," Hermione asked mildly.

"Er...no." Harry replied. It wouldn't do any good to mention Malfoy to Hermione, not after promising he would leave him alone.

"Let's go to lunch then."

"Yeah," Ron chimed in. "Then off to Herbology."

Harry nodded as he followed them into the Great Hall. Nearly everyone was there. Nearly. Harry noted a glaring absence though. Draco Malfoy. Harry would have to ask the next time he saw him. Whether or not Malfoy appreciated it, they were on talking terms now and Harry was never one to ignore his curiosity.

Draco was nearly panting by the time he reached his tower. Not from exhaustion, but from restraint. Every time he passed a student he could smell their blood, hear it pumping through the heart, screaming at him to taste, to taste, to taste. It was maddening. He'd used the last bit of his strength healing from that stupid lumos spell and now Draco's body craved nourishment to replenish his stores. Hogwarts was like an endless buffet, endless choices, endless flavor. Ignoring the thirst as he moved through the masses had to be one of the hardest things Draco had ever done. But he did it. He made it to his room. Shaking, he opened a large cupboard in the sitting room. Inside were three shelves containing glass jars of various sizes each closed tight with a cork lid. Two jars were already empty. With unsteady hands Draco grabbed one of the bigger jars and pulled off the lid. The smell of the blood made his mouth water and his fangs drop. From the smell Draco could tell it wasn't human blood, he wasn't sure what kind of blood it was, and it didn't matter. Greedily he drank it, gulp after gulp until the jar was as empty as the other two.

The blood coursed through Draco's veins and he closed his eyes as he felt some strength and power returning to him. The problem with this blood, besides not being completely fresh, was that it wasn't human. His body accepted it, but it was a poor substitute. It took more to repair and restore him. Unfortunately, that was the best Dumbledore could do. At least it kept the thirst at bay. Already Draco was breathing easier and he closed the cupboard before going to the bathroom. Only a bit of blood was on his lips and he wiped them with a towel, forcing his fangs to retreat. He stared at his reflection until the white ice of his iris was back to the pale blue. One the outside he figured he looked like he always had. So what did Potter see that no one else did? Draco sighed and rubbed his eyes. The blood helped some things, but not the fatigue. That would only be solved with sleep and as long as Slytherins kept trying to sneak into his tower he'd be without for a while. Oh well. It wasn't like it was going to kill him. With an unsteady laugh, Draco made his way down for Arithmancy.

Herbology class had passed without incident and so had dinner. Harry, Ron and Hermione were in a small corner of the Gryffindor common room whispering about a topic that Harry loathed. Voldemort. Nothing good ever came from talking about him. No matter what Harry did he couldn't bring back Sirius and he no longer trusted the random images he received via his scar. Harry would never know if the visions were true insights into Voldemort's plans or planted ones. Since Voldemort's dramatic reveal at the Ministry of Magic he'd basically gone underground. Not one sight of him, no Death Eater attacks, no mysterious disappearances. Except for one brief moment of rage a few weeks ago Voldemort and Harry's scar had been oddly quiet. It was disconcerting.

"I don't like it." Hermione echoed Harry's thoughts.

"Me either," Harry admitted. "Maybe he's trying to find another way to hear it."

Hermione frowned. "Maybe."

Ron sat back, rubbing his chin with a knuckle. "You know what that means, right?"

Harry and Hermione didn't like the shaking in his voice. "That means he'll have to come here."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Everyone who knows the prophecy is here."

The thought frightened Harry and then he remembered where he was. "Come on, guys. This is Hogwarts. If Voldemort could get past the wards so easily he would have done it already."

"True." Hermione was biting a nail now, her eyes far away. "And maybe that's why he hasn't been seen. Maybe he's planning something." With that ominous premonition, the Golden Trio parted ways and went to bed.