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Moving along to the next chapter… Something to say before we get started. I’ve noticed other Harry Potter fans have said that I’m moving along too slow with the plot.

The only thing is that they might be under the assumption that the romance is the only thing that ties into it. This is completely wrong. I have many items incorporating into the plot, hence why there are so many details. I’m not trying to move too slow and I’m not trying to give away too much. Believe me, there is a lot of action, new ideas, new characters that fit into this complex sixth year that Harry’s starting.

So, I’m sorry if anyone feels that way. Believe me, there will be lots to digest throughout this novel-length story. Most of it starting after about another chapter or so. So bear with me please?

Also, Laura and Ana. I feel like you two are my betas since you have so much courage in saying what you truly think about this story. Remembering the things you said I needed to work on, please let me know if I still do or if I’m getting better throughout the story.

This story is still in the works and I’m always up for a bit of tweaking to my (already-finished) stories if there is strong advice. So, thank you ladies for keeping me on my toes. I’m actually revising the first two chapters based on your suggestions in ways that they’ll fit. So that proves that your comments do not go unnoticed.

Harry Potter and the Love of a Veela
Chapter 3
Vampire vs. Veela
(Endings and Beginnings)
By: Tiger Heart

>>> August 1st >>>

The London back-alleys were menacing this time of night. Dark, storm clouds rumbled above creating a gloomy, eerie aura upon the wasted areas of the populated city. The winds began to howl and would eventually pick up throughout the night. Bonfires that were scattered around and conjured up in trash bins began to dim as a thick mist lightly showered upon them. Shadows grew thicker, chasing away the only source of light the residents of the alley relied on during the long nights. They huddled closer to each other against the concrete walls of decrepit buildings. They could feel the darkness. It was thick in the air, swirling and collecting around one shadowed figure in particular.

He remained unseen but his presence was strong. Strong enough to give muggles that spine-chilling feeling that raised the hairs on the back of their necks when they can almost ‘swear’ something unnatural is about. They gazed up and down the back roads in wonder, but saw nothing.

The figure continued to stride down the damp streets for quite some time--clutching his cloak tighter to him--and finally paused in front of a wooden door to one of the worn buildings. He glanced to his right, his left and then behind before sticking his hand out from underneath the cloth and twisting the door knob that led into the Leaky Cauldron. He forced it open to make it appear as though the wind itself threatened to break it open; but the loud entrance was paid no mind by the tavern’s host and guests--who were all too busy amongst one another.

The invisible intruder snuck past the thick crowd as best he could--occasionally bumping into others and ducking to let them pin the blame on a visible figure. He swept behind the counter while a lonely gentleman, who--although visible--was also unnoticed by all, walked over and shut the door. A worn key, hanging along side others that belonged to vacant rooms, appeared to levitate off its hook before suddenly disappearing.

The sound of careful footsteps went unnoticed by the occupants of the bar and tavern, due to the loud noise; but as the footsteps reached the first floor, they grew louder down the silent, empty corridors. The sound stopped in front of a door labeled with a number that matched the key stolen from downstairs. What appeared to be an amputated hand floating near the door handle, with key in place, inserted the small tool and unlocked the door.

Then, the hand was let down, disappearing with the key once more and the sound of footsteps entered the empty room before the door was slowly and quietly closed…

Harry Potter collapsed on the wooden floor with a loud ‘thud’ before he tore his invisibility cloak off of him in a huff and threw it on the four poster. He silently gazed at the key he swiped downstairs. After sitting in solitude for a few minutes, he casually stood up and locked the door before placing the key in a drawer of a dusty nightstand that rested beside the entrance.

Then, he returned to his spot on the ground and sat there, one leg folded over the other, with nothing in mind. Actually, he had what felt like millions of thoughts coursing through the nerves of his brain, but they were so incomprehensible that his mind felt completely empty. Harry didn’t know what to think or say. The events from today alone was too much to understand. He held so many questions inside that seemed to have no answers. And his frustration was growing to the point where he could almost yell down the very walls that surrounded him.

He banged his fist on the creaking wood beneath him and growled. Why him? Why did everything have to happen to him? Now he was alone, truly alone. No one would want to be within fifty feet of him once they discovered what he had transformed into. He lifted his fingers and ran them across the ivory blades in his mouth and his face contorted into rage when he realized they weren’t going to go away. He looked at his hands--his pale hands--and wanted to wish them away as well.

The fury inside swelled to the point where even physical pain began to manifest in the pit of his stomach…

… No, wait… That pain was something else. It was burning from his very core and Harry was afraid of what it meant. If he truly was what he thought he was, he would die right there on the spot because there was no way in hell he was going to do the unthinkable to satisfy the hunger.

“No!” He hollered as he clenched his stomach and fell into a fetal position. “I won’t do it!”

However, the hunger seemed to tear at his insides, threatening to split his stomach open. Harry growled even louder, but the voice was not his own. It was deeper and maddening, like the night before. He sounded like a wild animal ready to kill the next ‘thing’ it spotted. However, what little willpower was left begged for Harry to hold on. The last thing he needed to do was take the life of another. He didn’t care what he had turned into, killing was not going to be a part of the solution--not if Harry had anything to do with it.

Still, the pain was immense and he wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. Unconsciousness threatened to consume him and he--no his body more like it--knew that was not a good idea. It just knew he was doomed if that were to happen. So, he struggled to stay awake, to come up with a plan to ease himself; but as no ideas came about, Harry felt himself grow weaker, slipping into the darkness.

………………………………................................................................................................

Remus Lupin quietly sat away from the other guests of the Leaky Cauldron. His friendless form was seated right next to the front entrance and, surprisingly, no one sat near. He knew that his new reputation of being a creature unlike them would arouse rejection, probably from the fear stirring inside the other wizards and witches. It was so thick as if they were trying to live in their own world and fuse together whilst thinking that ignoring him would cause him to repel.

However, even though they thought their plan was working, Remus knew better. The only reason was because he--himself--chose not to meddle. He was used to being a solitary man now. Years of being separated from all one cares about have the ability to create such a person and will do so, if permitted. He welcomed the feeling, although it felt cold at times…

… Or maybe it was the sudden burst of wind that caused him to shiver slightly. He glanced to his right and noticed the entrance door to the tavern burst open with a mighty gust of wind following behind it. The others simply waved it off, believing the wind to be the culprit. Remus, on the other hand, wasn’t too sure. He knew he caught a whiff of something familiar, but couldn’t pinpoint it as it began to disappear and blend with the scents of others.

In any case, he slid his seat back and rose from the table to shut the wooden door; but as he turned his head to shield it from the biting rain, his perceptive eyes caught a small figure in mid-air.

Was that a key? Impossible! But there it began to float, casually gliding through the air before disappearing near the stairwell to the first floor.

Remus faced the exact direction of the key and scanned the stairway with his nose. He strode by others trying to pick up anything. He reached the slightly rickety steps, away from the mass of late-night visitors, and grabbed a hold of the same scent that passed him at the front entrance.

‘It couldn’t be!’ he yelled inside. The person he suspected was an utter fool if he had indeed pulled this stunt. But, knowing this person, Remus knew it was possible.

“Just like his dad,” he muttered before ‘tsk-ing’ at the mischievous performance. He trailed behind the smell, keeping his distance as he snaked around corners and stalked the invisible figure, keeping his nose right on him. But wait… if this really was who he thought it was, why did their scent alter? Could it be…?

Had it happened already?

Remus needed to find out. He rushed around the corner in time to see a door at the other end of the hall shut into place. When he reached it he heard the ‘click’ of a lock, but the thumping he heard afterwards made him anxious to see what was happening inside.

Muttering a quick lock-picking spell, Remus wasted no time in trying to discover what was on the other side. He wish they hadn’t, but his fears had been confirmed.

There lied his late friend’s son, on the ground, writhing in agony. He had hoped it wouldn’t have started so soon. Remus should have informed Harry of what the young wizard was when the boy discovered that Remus, Harry’s father and Sirius were the best of friends. Yes, the end of Harry’s third year at Hogwarts would have been a perfect time. But back then, it didn’t seem like it. Still, beating himself up was not going to help. Remus had to focus on relieving the whimpering teenager.

He quickly hovered over the boy and was in awe at how hard Harry was trying to hold back the raging instincts that had formed. His father, James, wasn’t able to control it quite as well after his first transformation.

Poor, Harry. His mouth was gaped open, letting out silent cries--his fangs exposed and elongated to the fullest. His claws dug into the wood beneath him as he tossed and turned. Remus desperately tried to bring the boy back to his senses, long enough for him to help Harry at least.

“Harry,” Remus called out, shaking his shoulders. “Harry, listen to me. You’re gonna be just fine. Just relax, okay?”

But Remus already knew Harry was starting to fade away. He had to get him to respond or else he would surely die from the suffering. Slowly but surely, Harry responded to man’s calls. Lying on his side, he turned his head towards the ceiling and gazed at his former professor. But something was wrong about his gaze.

What happened next was like a flash of lightning. A deep growl erupted in Harry’s throat; and with inhuman strength, Harry lunged up and threw Lupin against the wall, pinning him there. His mouth was shut but his fangs were long enough to protrude past his bottom lip. Harry’s eyes burned red with hunger--he knew nothing else--and his mouth was shut no longer as he extended his jaws, ready to strike.

During this time, Remus was mustering up every ounce of strength he had within himself waiting for this moment of weakness. The moment when Harry was giving in to the hunger. With a loud roar, Lupin pushed against Harry with all his might and didn’t stop until they reached the other end of the room, slamming the teenage boy against the opposite wall. He slammed as hard as he was able. He knew he wouldn’t normally do such a thing to Harry, but at that moment, this being before him was not Potter.

The force knocked a slight bit of wind out of the young wizard and caused him to stumble for just a second, if that. But that was all Lupin needed. With a quick wave of his wand, he threw a binding spell at the boy, rendering him unable to do anything but stand where he was, against the wall--almost attached to it, it seemed. Now, the focus needed to be bringing the ‘real’ Harry back into control. Remus walked up to him and hollered, demanding Harry’s attention.

“Harry, snap out of it!” His command was followed with a back-handed slap across Harry’s cheek.

Harry sneered for just a millisecond and Lupin wouldn’t have caught it if he weren’t looking. But right after, Harry’s eyes slowly faded from red to green and Harry Potter was back in control of his own body.

“That’s good…” Remus uttered slowly with a sigh. He looked at the boy questioningly. “Harry, are you with me?”

Harry looked at the older man and frowned. “R-Remus?” His voice was raspy and he sounded as though talking was the hardest task he was able to do. If Remus didn’t act fast, Harry would convert once more.

“Yes, it’s me. And it seems as though I’ve arrived just in time.”

“Remus… w-why can’t I move?”

“Well, that’s because I’ve put you under a binding spell. For both of our protection--but that’s beyond the point. I need you to do something for me. It will help the pain and control what’s inside of you. Can you do this?”

Harry just meekly nodded in response, afraid that uttering another word would bring back whatever he had the displeasure of releasing upon Lupin just moments ago. Remus smiled a little at his cooperation and quickly removed a pocket knife out of his jacket. He wasted no time in slowly slitting just a small portion of his wrist, knowing too much exposure of blood would drive the poor boy mad--and then, not even the spell could hold him back.

Harry kept his eyes steady on everything Remus was doing, but when he witnessed the man’s wrist slightly splitting open and the crimson trail that leaked out of it, Harry turned his head away quickly. His stomach growled audibly and his fangs almost twitched as if trying to extend further and reach out towards the wound.

“Harry, stop it! You have to or else you’ll die. You have to trust me!”

He walked up to the boy and held out his wrist for the taking--he used his other hand to grab Harry’s jaw and turn it towards him.

“Harry, nothing’s gonna happen and I have you bound to this very wall if you get out of control, so do not worry.”

Harry’s eyes opened and shut as if he were actually contemplating Remus’ words.

“Harry, you will die if you don’t cut it out, do you understand? You must accept it, there’s no choice. Stop being stubborn and do it now!”

His imperative statement must have struck some type of cord, because Harry was now slowly inching his opened jaws towards the older wizard’s wrist--his eyes were still shut. However, all thoughts were out the window when he sunk his elongated fangs in, searing the flesh of his former professor’s forearm, sucking away madly.

Remus winced on contact but held firm until he knew Harry had enough. He could tell it was enough when he felt Harry’s fangs slowly start to shrink as if pulling out of the wound. The problem was Harry didn’t know when enough was enough. Remus felt dizziness begin to consume him as his head became light.

“Okay, Harry… that’s enough.” Remus tried to pull back but Harry wouldn’t let go.

“Enough!”

Remus yanked away, letting Harry’s head fall back against the wall, as he ripped his sleeve and bandaged the wound. He sighed as he witnessed Harry’s eyes return to their normal hue and roll into the back of his head as his eyelids fluttered to a close.

Remus grabbed the boy and released the spell, feeling all of the teenage wizard’s weight falling on him. He dragged the boy over to the bed and gently laid him on the mattress. Harry was completely limp--mixed with his pale complexion, one might mistaken him for dead. But not Remus--he wasn’t worried. He knew the boy only needed rest, especially after the day he just endured.

‘Tomorrow,’ Lupin thought to himself. ‘The real challenge begins…’

>>>Meanwhile… at Malfoy Manor>>>

Narcissa,

Lucius is dead.
Cause: An Unforgivable; Killing Curse
Culprit: Unknown

Remains will be sent to Malfoy Manor first thing tomorrow morning for your choice of burial. The Ministry deeply regrets his loss and sends their utmost sympathy out to you and young Draco.

Sincerely,
Cornelius Fudge
Minister of Magic
Order of Merlin - First Class

………………………………................................................................................................

Draco crumpled the wretched parchment that was owled to him moments after his mother had passed away. He scowled at the letter before throwing it in the fire with Narcissa’s remains.

An enchanted force field prevented the blazing inferno from igniting the rest of the meadow behind their manor. The same spell surrounded a neighboring fire pit as it licked and tore away the flesh of his father.

The sun had set hours ago, the night engulfing the land around him threatening to consume his surroundings as well as himself. The two flaming pits before him were the only light that cascading upon the land chasing away the shadows for that moment, until they would die out, just like the sunlight.

To Draco, however, this was the darkest night of his life. In just a manner of two days his whole world had been completely turned upside down. His father’s passing was shocking enough, but when he witnessed his mother meet her untimely end due to that wretched Veela heart of hers, Draco snapped.

Was this what the life of a Veela had in store for him? To pitifully follow a mate and worship the ground one walked on? And when his mate dies, he had to cease to exist himself? Draco scoffed at the mere thought of letting someone else have such control over his life. After all, it was his life… no other was allowed to own it.

He felt a wind begin to pick up, as if threatening to blow out the fires that laid before him. Draco felt it flow underneath his clothes and throughout his very being. And then, it passed over something that made him wince. He cringed at the feeling and stared in awe as he slowly lifted his sleeve and gazed down at an astonishing mark that seemed to have burned into his very skin. It was a mark of long, bony fingers wrapped around his right wrist.

The bruise that contrasted to his pale skin, and the howling winds swirling around him, brought back memories of yesterday’s incidents. It was the very reason why he remained silent throughout this day. The thousands of owls that came swarming in to deliver letters of sympathy were also ignored for this reason. It was the reason why he appeared to be an empty shell.

The reason was… him…

The Past… July 31st … Malfoy Manor

Draco sat in a plush recliner inside his mother’s study even hours after she took her last breath. He was glued to the very spot, lost in thought. It seemed to be the only thing keeping him sane at the moment.

His parents had died. Both Lucius and Narcissa, father and mother of Draconis Malfoy had passed within the matter of one day. Normally a child would react in horrible ways, mourning over their parents by tears, screams, fits or wails of sorrow. But not Draco. He was enraged, but not because his was grief-stricken. At that moment he was furious towards his parents for dying. To him, in a weird, twisted way, it seemed like a result of weakness… and Malfoys were not weak!

His anger was slowly starting to consume his quiet, still form and vengeance seemed like the only fitting answer at the time to subdue it. And as if his mind was being tapped into and his feelings were being openly expressed to the outside world, the front doors of Malfoy Manor seemed to burst open with a bang! Draco could hear the ear-splitting sound all the way down the corridors to the very room he was sitting in.

Only one person, one power, would have the audacity to do such a thing…

“He’s here,” Draco whispered into air that was thick with silence.

As soon as Draco uttered those two little words, gusts of black, visible wind came pouring into the study followed by a man--if that’s what one could call him--that could make anyone quiver at the mere mention of his name.

Voldemort had arrived.

Draco, too, would be expressing nothing but a respectful fear towards the powerful wizard, as he had done whenever he encountered the man before. But at that moment, Draco was emotionless.

The Dark Lord almost seemed to slither his way over to the empty shell of a boy and gazed upon him with crimson eyes. In no way was Draco disrespectful to the man--he had learned that the hard way many times before. He casually pulled his head up towards the dark wizard, but dared not to look into his eyes. Not yet anyway. No one had the courage to look into them unless ordered by he himself.

Voldemort almost thrust his hand out from under his cloak. Draco slowly took the man’s hand, as expected, and gently placed his lips upon those white, bony fingers in honor of his ‘visit’.

The Dark Lord pulled his extremity back under its sleeve as if in acceptance of the boy’s gesture. But the older wizard caught something within the young Malfoy’s expression--or lack thereof.

“Look at me, young Malfoy.” His voice was ice, sending shivers done the boy’s spine. But Draco did as he was told and gazed into Voldemort’s red slits, which were growing even more narrow by the second. “Ah, I see the negative emotions coursing through your veins. And is that a hint of vengeance I sense?” It was more of a statement rather than a question. No one could hide anything from that man. So, Draco remained silent as the older wizard went on.

“Ah yes, your parents’ untimely demise are indeed a great loss. Lucius, an extremely valuable asset to my league of Death Eaters. And dear Narcissa, so loyal to him, and therefore, loyal to me. It will, in fact, hinder my plans.”

Asset? Plans? That was all he thought of Draco’s parents. Well, it wasn’t unexpected, but nevertheless, for Draco to hear these very words come out of that vicious man’s mouth definitely burned his very being. And the heat that began to rise from his core did not go unnoticed by the Dark Lord.

“I see you are filled with anger. Anger towards them, your parents? Or perhaps, anger towards… me?” Voldemort’s thin lips grew into a long, evil smirk. But it faded as quickly as it had appeared and he advanced on the young wizard, grabbing the boy by the wrist and yanking him out of the chair.

“You would be wise not to advert those thoughts of revenge in my direction. You are Lucius’ son, which is the only reason why you are alive instead of dead by my hands at this very moment. Still, it is also the reason why it is expected of you to be loyal to me just as he was and you will do just that, do you understand?” Voldemort sneered as he gripped the young wizard’s wrist even tighter.

Draco dared not to wince, but the pain was starting to reach unbearable measures. Voldemort gazed into his eyes and witnessed the pain flowing through them--the moisture that threatened to surface from his lids--and he let go, shoving him back into the chair, smiling at the young one in satisfaction.

The Dark Lord glided to the other side of the room and stood in front of the brick fireplace. He spat into it, creating roaring, blue fires that gleamed with evil. And there he stood, motionless, almost thinking perhaps, but what? Draco was not sure.

“The fact that you are his son brings up another matter.” He spoke to boy with his back still facing him. “My right hand man was murdered, therefore a vacant spot is open for the taking.”

The proposition was all too obvious and it was this offer that finally snapped Draco back to the here-and-now. Voldermort was offering him to be his main underling? His top loyal?

“From now until you die, you will be my new main loyal. You will be at my side and you will carry out my every order. In return, you will gain total respect from all pureblooded wizards in the world, which I’m sure you would accept no less. After all…” Voldemort chuckled, “… you are a Malfoy.”

Voldemort turned on his heel and revealed the most sinister smile Draco ever laid eyes on. How dare that man mock the Malfoy blood-line! But Draco caught himself before lunging at the very person who could kill him without a second thought. Besides, it was plain and clear he didn’t have any say in the matter. But to become his main loyal, so soon?

He always dreamed of this moment, when this ‘honor’ would be passed from his father to him. But wasn’t this a little early? Wasn’t he too young? And wouldn’t he receive the Dark Mark in acceptance of his new alliance? A student at Hogwarts could be expelled for being a Death Eater. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

“Besides,” Voldemort added after a moment of silence. “I couldn’t think of none other than a Malfoy to be by my side. With your heritage and upbringing, you fully understand--more than any other wizard in the world could possibly comprehend--the purpose of my plot.”

“But sir,” Draco spoke up for the first time since the Dark Lord first entered. “Wouldn’t I have to be Marked? Dumbledore would surely expel me.”

Voldemort’s eyes grew black with rage at the mere mention of the elder wizard’s name and he quickly swept over to the young Malfoy and scooped him up by his very neck.

“Don’t you think I’m aware of that, Draconis?!” Draco winced at that name. His father was the only one allowed to refer to him as Draconis… and Voldemort knew. He was pushing every button Draco had to push. “Do you take me for a fool?! Or perhaps you’re bringing that up because you are afraid to receive the Mark?”

He threw the young boy down and gazed upon him--his eyes still black but now they had flames rising up from his bottom lids. Draco grasped his very own throat in attempt to alleviate it as he looked up at the man. Of course he wanted the Mark, he was grown up to hope that one day he would receive it? There was no question about it… Right?

“Don’t fear, young Malfoy… I have no intention of Marking you just yet. I’ve already thought it through. You are, after all, a Hogwarts student. Your influence upon your fellow students will be a wondrous asset to me, so we can’t have you kicked out, now can we?”

He lowered to meet Draco’s gaze at eye-level and gently grasped the sixteen year-old boy’s chin. “You are the main contributor towards my plans now. Remain loyal to me and I’ll look out for you just as your mother and father did.”

Draco’s heart sunk a little at the mention of his parents.

“Ah, still stuck on revenge? Well, why don’t you take it out on the very person who deserves it most?”

Draco gazed into his eyes--for once--unflinchingly. His soul burned to core at what the Dark Lord might be suggesting. Was he aware of who his father’s killer was? Voldemort returned the gaze, the fire in his eyes flaming higher. His lips twisted into a deep, ugly frown before he uttered his next words.

“Harry Potter.”

Potter? Draco almost scoffed at the man’s accusations, but quickly held his tongue. Surely Potter didn’t sneak into Azkaban and take out his father. He was too goody-goody to even think about performing an Unforgivable Curse. Voldemort seemed to catch Draco’s confusion and spoke once more.

“Now he didn’t kill him, but he is fully responsible. If he hadn’t stirred up the trouble he caused at the Ministry, your father wouldn’t have been caught and sentenced to prison in the first place.”

And in a twisted way, it made sense to Draco.

“Think about it. We will both accomplish what we desire. You stand by my side and help me carry out my plans. Aide me in gathering more followers--you know, put your influence to good use. And then, when my plan is finalized, we’ll move up to the moment when we encounter that foolish, ignorant Potter and we’ll destroy him and Dumbledore both. Revenge will be ours!”

Voldemort slowly slid up, raising the boy up with him and sat him back down on the recliner where he first sat when the Dark Lord arrived. With a wave of his hand, angry winds enveloped the older wizard and carried him out of the study. He uttered no goodbye as he exited.

But Draco wouldn’t have been paying attention anyway. His mind was processing the last sentence that flowed out of that malicious man’s mouth.

“Revenge will be ours!”

Those words had hissed from his mouth with so much encouragement surrounding them; and Draco soaked it up like a sponge. Maybe the older wizard was right. Harry was responsible.

It made sense; that devious prat always had it out for Draco anyway. That’s why he went to the Ministry. He hit Draco and his family where it hurt the most. Their pride and dignity; and now look what happened as a result. He was alone… utterly alone.

Maybe not. Voldemort was offering what hundreds of wizards have killed for and still haven’t obtained. A spot right beside him. If--no when--Voldemort took over, Draco would be standing right next to him.

The Malfoy name will be restored and heightened as if it had never been tarnished before. It was Draco’s turn to make it right again and bring back the pride that dissolved from this ridiculous scandal.

Draco would do, what he believed, needed to be done.

“Potter will pay…”

The Present… August 2nd … The Leaky Cauldron

Harry Potter slept soundlessly in bed as the morning rays had fully developed, pouring through the simple, white curtains and bathing his face with warmth. The increase in temperature seeped into Harry’s pores and snaked its way through his eyelids, stirring him out of his slumber.

Abnormally, the daylight was immensely bright--at least to Harry it was; and he dared not to open his eyelids just yet. He didn’t feel like adjusting to the light right now. In fact, he didn’t feel like anything. His body was full of fatigue and the bed sheets were so comfortable. He could just curl right back up and sleep the day away.

In reality he couldn’t. Harry was never used to doing so. During the summer, he never slept past seven in the morning--Uncle Vernon just wouldn’t have it, not when he could be doing more ‘productive’ things. And in a way, Harry felt as though he could almost feel those heavy footsteps pounding up the staircase. In just a few moments, his uncle would be banging the door down, ordering him to wake up.

Knock, knock, knock!

And there it was. The dreadful wake-up call.

Wait a minute. That sounded awfully light to be one of Vernon’s ‘knocking rampages’--and why wasn’t the man hollering for him to get out of bed.

Curiosity claimed the best of Harry and--regardless to the sunlight--he threw his eyelids apart and desperately tried to scan his surroundings. As they adjusted, he realized this wasn’t the shabby, little bedroom at Number 4 Privet Drive. It was slightly shabby, but definitely greater in size. Was it possible? Had last nights events actually occurred and weren’t a figment of his imagination. He rubbed his eyes roughly with his fists as if this would clear his hallucinations; but he was in the very same room after he pulled them away.

Knock, knock, knock!

“Harry? Are you okay in there?”

Remus’ voice. It was his old professor. So, Harry hadn’t been dreaming. This was actually real. He was away from the Dursley’s once more. But the joy that manifested was erased as quickly as it came, for that meant that all the horrible details of last night’s episode were real as well.

And as if thinking those thoughts were the trigger, it switched back on the painful hunger he had to endure the previous night. Harry--sitting up against the headboard--desperately clutched his stomach and leaned forward, failing to alleviate it. It wasn’t as horrible as it was before and it didn’t seem as difficult to try and pull back, but the searing pain--like someone shoving a sword straight through one’s gut--was something he could not get over.

A moment later, he could hear the doorknob twisting into a ‘click’ and then the groan of the door hinges as the older wizard stepped through the doorway--caution and concern etched all over his features. However, his slow pace immediately quickened when he saw Harry doubled over once more. He strode to the bedside, almost shoving the goblet he had been holding right up to Harry’s face.

“I knew this would happen again, so I took the liberty of coming up here prepared.”

Harry forced his eyes ajar and looked up at Lupin and then back down at the goblet, filled nearly to the brim with a thick, crimson liquid. He only needed one guess as to what it was, but he shot his gaze back up at the man sitting next to him.

Remus seemed to decipher what was running through Harry’s mind and almost chuckled at the thought. “Oh, dear no! I didn’t kill anyone. And I know this disgusts you now. Trust me, I don’t like the thought of it as much as you don’t.”

“So,” Harry spoke up. “You didn’t kill anyone?”

“No,” Remus laughed out loud this time.

Harry offered a tiny twitch of a smile in response and gazed at the goblet once more. His stomach was twisting into unbearable knots and he knew this was the only thing to alleviate it. So, he slowly removed the cup from Remus’ hands and sipped on the copper fluid. As soon as the first drop hit his stomach, it craved more and Harry began to steadily drink it.

That’s when Lupin spoke once more… “--not a person at least. I knew you would still be suffering from the hunger. So, I went out last night to the outskirts of London and well… to make a long story short, that’s rabbit’s blood you’re drinking.”

Harry was down to the last few gulps when that statement registered and he immediately spat the rest out and threw the cup aside. He frantically wiped at his mouth and his face contorted as though he might hurl on the spot.

Remus offered a casual smile in amusement and rubbed the boy’s back gently. “There, there. It didn’t taste that bad did it?--not to you at least. Besides, I bet that the pain is starting to subside, am I right?

Harry finished wiping himself off while offering a slight nod ‘yes’ in response. Relief began pouring over him and it was warm. He felt it coursing through his system, sending away all the aches--revitalizing him to the fullest. He felt eternally grateful to his former professor; and thought of it as a stroke of luck that he ran into him, else he couldn’t fathom what might have happened.

Suddenly another thought ran through Harry’s mind. Now that he felt settled within himself, he was thinking a lot more clearly--and one thought in particular was haunting above all others…

How did Remus know? Or better yet, it was the fact that Remus knew. It was like he almost expected it--he was acting so casually towards the matter. Not to mention, Lupin knew exactly what to do, as if he had experienced the same situation previously.

That’s when it struck Harry, and what happened next completely blew both of them by surprise…

Harry lunged forward at the older wizard, causing them both to slip off the bed and onto the floor… hard. He pinned Lupin to the ground with an unknown strength he never realized he had.

Remus looked up at the boy and almost swore that Harry was having another ‘difficult’ moment like he did the night before, but that’s when he noticed that Harry’s eyes were still the same. They remained their emerald color, except now they were burning with a dark passion. That’s when he knew that Harry was in total control. It was just pure anger running through those eyes--and did Lupin see a slight bit of hurt?

“H-Harry?… I d-don’t understa--”

“You kept it from me!”

“What?”

“Don’t deny it and don’t play dumb! You knew all along what I was, ever since we first met. You knew this was going to happen and you kept it from me!” Harry’s last statement was full of hurt and his voice was pushing to the point of cracking.

Remus stared hard into the young wizard’s gaze, almost as if trying to explain his reasons, without words, to the core of Harry’s very soul.

“Look, Harry. I know this wasn’t the best way to tell you--”

“--But that’s the point! You never told me! I had to find out for myself, but isn’t that always how it happens?”

“Harry I can sympathize and only begin to understand how you feel--”

“No you can’t Remus! I was all alone. I had to endure the pain by myself. No one was at my side. My so-called friends and supporters only care to a certain degree. They still treat me as though I’m untouchable. I thought you were different Remus, but you’re just like them because you didn’t tell me. And you know what…?”

Harry stop himself short as if uttering one more word would cause him to collapse. But he gathered his strength and pressed on, as if these last words were what really mattered.

“It… hurts…”

There.

He had finally said what he had been aching to say for so long. So many long years. Lupin’s heart finally split in two and he immediately sat up, enveloping the trembling boy in his arms. Surprisingly, he didn’t witness Harry pour out tears of all the emotions he had held in for so long. Instead, the young wizard let out one, dry sob and then his body was released into a shaking fit. Remus just held tighter, wishing he could just swallow up all of Harry’s pain within himself so the boy didn’t have to suffer any longer.

“Harry… I know nothing can take back my dishonesty towards you. But if it helps, I stand for all who really do care about you in saying that we really were just trying to protect you…”

He pulled Harry’s chin so he could look the young wizard dead in his eyes before continuing. “… But I guess we were too caught up in being overprotective that we didn’t notice you were becoming a young gentleman. And keeping things from you--things that are important for you to know--isn’t the best way of keeping you safe and I realize that now. I really am sorry, Harry.”

Harry gazed at Remus. “If you really want to apologize, start by keeping your word.”

Remus smiled slightly at Harry’s proposition. “Oh, how so?” But he already had an idea.

“Start by telling me how I became a vampire…”

The question was expected, but to hear Harry say that word still caught him off guard. Lupin sighed for just a moment as if rolling the thoughts through his head of whether or not he should tell the boy. He knew he had to keep his word but answering Harry’s question meant telling him a whole other story in order to explain to Harry why he was what he was.

The look in Harry’s eyes confirmed that he wasn’t going to back down. They were both too deep in this and the young wizard did have the right to know. ‘Look at him’, Remus mused to himself. ‘He’s definitely not a boy anymore.’

This was the end of the Harry Potter he first met. He was growing up--he had to if he was going to stand head-to-head with the darkest lord known to wizard kind…

Remus casually stood up, dusted off his robes and held out his hand for Harry to take. After pulling the teenager up, he sat them down on the mattress and let out a breath he felt he had been holding since he was tackled to the ground…

“All right Harry. I’ll tell you.” And then Remus added with a smile, “The question now is, where should I begin…?”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Tiger Heart: As you can see, the chapter is much longer now and full of angst-y goodness! ::rubs palms together maniacally… O.o::

Slythindor: ::rubs palms together maniacally … O.o::

Grifferin: ::trembles underneath bed, poking his head out:: … You two are evil! No worse! You two are the Devil!

Tiger Heart: Well sit tight cause it gets even better! O.o!

Grifferin: ::hides under bed again:: … mommy… o.o?

Tiger Heart: I never thought I’d ask this… but… Please oh pretty-please! (look I’m actually begging)… oh pretty-pretty please (Slythindor: that’s pathetic)… review! I want to know you guys are still reading this. ‘Cause that’s why it’s up here, for you to read and enjoy and if you don’t enjoy it… well, I’ll just have to pack up my story and take it elsewhere… how you like them apples?

Grifferin: ::pokes up again:: … apples?

Slythindor: Angst!

Grifferin: Eep! ::hides again::

Slythindor: Wimp.

Tiger Heart: ::rolls eyes::