We Begin at the End

Disclaimer: I am not J. K. Rowling and do not claim to have written the Harry Potter books. No profit is being made from this work.

This fic was written for the 2006 Conversion Fic exchange at the HPVamp Livejournal community. It was written as a gift for Emeraldpen, who requested a bit of hurt/comfort and some swishing of cloaks.

We Begin at the End

By Volett

The corpse was still fresh, not even ten hours old. Despite this, death by drowning never looked pretty on anyone, not even the oft-blessed Boy Who Lived.

Snape stared at the empty body, with its bloated features and discolored skin. Draco suspected that it was a good thing his mentor had learned how to mask his emotions so completely. Shuddering when one looked upon a corpse was not becoming of a Death Eater.

"Too much anger and sadness in this room, don't you agree?"

Snape's expression changed subtly, a hardening around the mouth and eyes. They had a mission, and it had to be done quickly. The body was scheduled to be cremated in less than an hour.

"Do it, Draco."

The blood was thick and cold, dead blood. Draco had never tasted anything so disgusting in his entire life. He took just enough to make the process work before he sliced his wrist open and held it over Potter's mouth. Snape had to hold Potter's jaw while Draco used his free hand to pull at the corpse's lower lip so his blood could make it past the bloated flesh.

"That should be enough Draco."

The blonde man nodded and licked his own wrist, stopping the blood flow as Snape hefted the leaden body into his arms. They both snuck out the door and down a series of hallways until they got past the non-apparition wards.

Forty minutes later ministry officials found the crematorium lacking a corpse.

It took a day and a half for the body to repair itself. Snape and Draco took turns keeping vigil, monitoring the progress of the conversion and making sure that the body consumed blood at regular intervals. Two mornings after he was taken from the crematorium Harry Potter woke up.

Draco watched Potter's awakening in rapt fascination, seeing the fluttering the dark eyelashes, the movement of chest muscles, the rhythmic clenching of the hands.

"Hello Potter, nice to see you awake."

Potter turned to Draco and took another gulp of breath. Draco put his hand on Potter's forehead; still a bit on the cold side, but not nearly as bad as when he'd been a corpse.

"Malfoy, what the fuck?" Potter shoved Draco's hand away and began looking around. "Where am I? Where are my clothes? Where are Ron and Hermione?"

Draco sighed. It would seem that Potter would not let himself be eased into this life nicely. So be it.

"You're at the Malfoy estate in France," he said, picking a pair of trousers and a sweater out of a nearby bureau and thrusting them at Potter. "Here, wear these."

Potter started pulling the clothes on. "And Ron and Hermione?"

"In St. Mungos, last I checked. They'll live."

Potter breathed a sigh of relief and sat back on the bed. He looked unnaturally pale. It was understandable, Draco supposed.

"Potter, there's more."

The wan face glanced back up at him. There was resignation there. Of course, for the Boy Who Lived, there was always more.

"Everyone thinks you're dead."

Potter looked stricken. "Why would they think that?"

Draco ran his fingers along the bedcovers, trying to think of a good way to phrase the necessary information.

"Malfoy, why would they think that?"

"For while you really were dead. I brought you back, with some help."

Potter's face darkened.

"Don't look at me like that, if not for us you'd be scattered ashes by now."

"What do you want from me?"

Draco blinked. "Pardon?"

Potter looked about to explode. Idiot. He was going to pass out at this rate.

"For starters, I would like for you calm down."

Potter's demeanor didn't change.

"I don't want anything in return for my services except for you to not go barreling about without thinking. Things have changed, you will need to understand them before you leave."

Draco waited for a tense second, and Potter seemed to deflate. He lay on top of the covers, looking sickly and frail. Draco fetched a vial from the night stand and held it in front of the pale face.

Potter took the vial. "What's this?" he asked, eyeing the red liquid.

"Something to make you feel better," Draco replied. He watched as Potter removed the stopper, sniffed the vial, and downed it all at once.

"Tastes good," he said, sounding surprised.

Draco took the vial and tucked it into his robe pocket. "Yes, I suppose it would."

He waited by the bedside until Potter fell asleep before quietly exiting the room.

"So he's awake?" Snape queried.

Draco's said nothing, knowing silence would be affirmation enough.

"How much did you tell him?"

"Some basics, where he is and all that."

"But not about the change?"

Draco shrugged, "Didn't seem wise to tell him everything at once," he replied, setting the vial on a shelf.

The response earned him a lifted eyebrow. "And yet he drank blood?"

"I didn't tell him what it was, he was barely conscious by the time I gave it to him."

"Hmm." Snape replied. He was only lending half of his attention to the conversation; Draco knew that the majority of Snapes' focus was on his current potion.

"And what of The Dark Lord and his followers?" Draco asked.

"The Dark Lord is rejoicing, he and the Death Eaters plan to storm the Ministry before the end of the week."

No surprises there. With how corrupt the Ministry already was it wouldn't take an hour for Voldemort's forces to take over, Death Eaters were in nearly every branch and office.

"And the Order, Draco, how do they fare?"

Draco snorted in a very Snape-like way. "There's barely an Order of the Phoenix left. Without Dumbledore or Harry Potter there is little hope of defeating the Dark Lord, and they all know it."

"So it would seem." Snape muttered, sturring his potion in a precise fashion, removing the ladle and scourgifying his hands. "This one will have to sit for three hours."

Draco leaned his head on Snapes' chest, soothed by the feeling of long fingers threading through his hair. "What now?"

"We'll just have to wait and see Draco, it's not up to us anymore."

"I hate waiting." Draco whined.

"As do I."

Potter downed the contents of the vial just as before, but despite the fact that he'd just awoken and was more alert this time, he still didn't seem to question what it was he was drinking. Stupid Gryffindor.

"Does the Order know I'm here?" Ah, his mind was somewhere else.

"No."

"Ron and Hermione?"

"No."

Potter paused. "Voldemort?"

"No, when I said that everyone believes your dead, I really meant everyone." Draco was suddenly thankful for the small time he and Potter had spent together in the Order. While the grudging acceptance they had developed for each other wasn't going to make this task easy, it was likely the only thing that had kept Potter docile for this long. Draco didn't want to be the one to have this conversation with Potter, but it had to be done and the sooner the better.

"Potter, have you thought at all about how we must have brought you back?"

A confused expression passed over Potter's features. "Ennervate? Or did you use CPR or something."

What the fuck was "CPR?" Draco made a mental note to ask Snape later. "Ennervate? Potter, that only works on somebody who is still alive. When we found you what we found was a corpse. There was no life left in your body which, by the way, looked absolutely disgusting."

Now Potter looked even more confused. Draco knew that he shouldn't be enjoying this, but he was, after all, raised by a Death Eater. He was brought up knowing how to enjoy a bit of torture.

"Let me illustrate." Draco said, grabbing the vial and pulling the stopper off. "What exactly do you think that you've been drinking, Potter?"

Potter's expression cleared a bit. "A nutrient potion."

"Nutrient potion." Oh dear god, he had saved a dunce. "Potter, nutrient potions are always green or brown, we covered that in second year."

"So?"

Draco lifted an eyebrow.

"Well, what is it then?"

Ah, the magic words. "Keep in mind you asked for this, Potter."

Draco retrieved a small knife from one of the pockets in his robe. He set the vial on the nightstand, held his palm over it, and sliced the skin open. Potter watched in morbid fascination as Draco squeezed his hand over the vial and blood dripped into the open cavity.

"Dear Merlin Malfoy, that's disgusting!"

"It's the truth."

Draco could practically see the wheels turning in Potters head, he saw the exact moment it all clicked. "Oh no, hell no!"

"It's not as bad as you might think. There are a lot of misconceptions about vampires."

"Oh yeah, how would you know?"

God but Potter really was an idiot. "Well, I am one, obviously. I've been one for a while now."

Potter looked as if he'd been struck in the face.

"Would you like for me to tell you a story, Potter?" Draco licked his hand clean and put the stopper back on the vial. "Not everybody can become a vampire, there have to be special circumstances for it to work. I was born in the caul. My father knew what it meant, he made a choice. He had a vampire friend who could do the conversion. He and my mother were young, they could have more children, ones that could reproduce and carry on the Malfoy line. So he asked his vampire friend to turn me in repayment for a debt he owed my father."

Potter regained his tongue, "Surely you're joking Malfoy. I've seen you walk in sunlight, you can cross running water, I've seen -"

"Oh do shut up Potter. I'll bet you never read the text book entry on vampires, did you? There are different breeds of vampire, the kind you're speaking of has nearly died out."

"But then -"

"I'll admit that sunlight isn't fun, but neither of us is going to fry to death if we play quidditch on a cloudless day. All I've really given you is an extended life span, a resistance to aging, and a bit more strength and magical stamina than the average wizard. Oh, and the need to have a regular intake of blood; that's all it means to be a vampire these days."

"Oh." Potter was at a loss for words. Thank Merlin.

"Do not misunderstand, things still are not as they were before. You are no longer a mere wizard." Draco thrust the vial at Potter.

After a moment of hesitation Potter took it, but made no move to drink, letting it sit lax in his hands. "So first you say it isn't much different, but now you say it is." The tone was not accusatory so much as querulous. Draco had the irrational urge to check Potter's temperature again.

"You were dead and I brought you to life. You have, essentially, been reborn. You are leading a new life, but you can't really begin it until you make peace with the old one."

"I still have to kill Voldemort."

"You have to do whatever would be necessary for you to be able to die in peace."

Now Potter merely looked confused. It was a common expression; Draco had an easier time dealing with this one.

"What Potter, cat got your tongue?"

"It's like this for all." Potter gazed at the vial. "for all vampires?"

"No." Draco replied. "Like I said, it works differently for different people. There have to be special circumstances. In your case, you died before it was your time. Your spirit was not at rest because you were not yet ready to die."

"Why did you bring me back?"

"Pardon?"

Potter was biting his lip, hard. There was blood on his lip and he looked so damn vulnerable. Before he even realized what he was doing Draco had leaned down and licked up the small bit of blood.

"Malfoy," Potter breathed. The air from Potter's mouth hit Draco's face. It smelled like mint and warm blood and oh Merlin.

Draco stumbled back. He had the irrational urge to straighten his clothes and check his hair, as if he'd been interrupted whilst indulging in some heavy snogging. He could feel the blush climb its way up his body and turned around before Potter could see it. "Drink that and get some sleep. I'll be back in a few hours, I have urgent matters that I must tend to."

Draco burst into Snapes' laboratory. At the bang of the door Snape looked up, took in the obviously frazzled state of his charge, and put a stasis spell on his potion.

"Oh, I'm sure this is all very amusing to you, Draco Malfoy being entranced with Harry-fucking-Potter. Go ahead, have a good laugh at my expense. I'm sure you could use it."

"Watch your tongue Draco, I would hate to have to tell your mother you'd shamed the Malfoy name."

Malfoy held a breath and let it out slowly. For a moment he felt properly chastised, then Potter's face flashed in his mind and he was angry all over again.

"I warned you of this." Snape said slowly. "I told you that there would be a blood bond."

"You told me that the nature of the bond would not go against anything intrinsic to either of our characters. He abhors me!"

"Apparently not." Snape said with distaste. "It would appear that somewhere in that thick head of his he has become quite fond of you. And you of him, if your little outburst is anything to go by."

Draco held his breath for a minute, exhaled, and felt all of the defiance leave him. He slumped in the corner chair and glared at the ceiling. He didn't have the energy for this.

"Are you quite done for a while." Snape asked impatiently.

"Quite." Draco intoned.

For the rest of the evening Draco watched Snape methodically work on his potion whilst swimming through his own muddled thoughts.

None of it made sense. But then again, nothing ever had when it came to Potter.

Draco returned to Potter's rooms the next morning. There were signs of disarray: a shirt left here, misplaced paper weight over there. Potter must be feeling better if he was able to create a mess.

He found Potter sitting in a plush chair by a corner window, the sunrise illuminating his face and shoulders. He looked much better, his skin had taken on a more natural pale tone and he didn't have circles under his eyes. Surprisingly, it was Potter who initiated conversation this time.

"I've been thinking about what you said. I think I figured it out."

Could he be any more vague? "Figured out what?"

Potter smiled a bit grimly. There was energy in that grimness. The realization made a rush of relief flood through Draco.

"What I need to do to be able to move on." Potter clarified.

"Do share," Draco said evenly, "It is quite likely you will need my help."

"Are you offering Malfoy?" Potter turned to him, looking surprised.

Offering? Draco had not thought if it as offering; he had naturally assumed that he would be helping Potter with whatever it was the idiot had planned.

After several awkward seconds of silence Potter continued. "You've changed Malfoy." Several more seconds passed, then, "I've changed too."

"Yes." Draco could think of nothing more to do than stupidly agree with the obviousness of Potter's observations.

"Is it because I'm a vampire?"

In for a knut, in for a galleon, "Yes, and because I am the one who changed you." Draco hoped that revealing the truth, or at least part of it, would help make sense of the mess they had gotten themselves into. "We have a blood bond now, it always happens when two vampires exchange blood."

"Oh, what does that mean exactly?"

Oh fuck it. Potter was being far too polite, and Draco did not want to indulge in this subject if he could help it. "First things first Potter, what were you talking about before?"

"Hm?"

"About moving on?"

Potter's confusion cleared, his expression darkened a bit. "Oh, yeah. Well, I obviously need to kill Voldemort."

"Obviously."

"And Bellatrix Lestrange."

"Right, that goes without saying too."

"Right," Potter confirmed, "And then I'd want to make sure that Hermione and Ron are alright. And."

"And?"

"And I'd want to do something nice for the Weasleys, so that they'd know how much I care for them."

"And?"

"That's it."

"That's all," Draco said incredulously, "That would be enough?"

"Yeah."

"Well," Draco said. And then, because he could think of nothing to say after, "well."

"I don't think any of it would be too hard, actually." Potter piped in, "Probably the most difficult part would be getting to Voldemort."

"And making sure he stays dead."

"Actually."

Draco cocked an eyebrow. "Something you've not told me, Potter?"

"He can't come back this time. I found out how to stop it in sixth year, it's what Hermione and Ron and I have been working on all this time."

Draco nearly choked on his own saliva. Good Gods.

Potter continued, "I guess that Voldemort found out and gave Bellatrix the job of making sure we didn't succeed." Potter's lip curled, "She had been following us all year, but she literally found us seconds too late. We'd finished off the last of it when she burst through the door."

"And then she went starkers and took revenge on you and Granger and Weasley."

Potter gave a slight nod in affirmation, his eyes gazing distantly out the window. After that, neither of them said anything for a while.

As had become habit, Draco went to visit Snape that evening. He and Potter had talked it over but were unable to think of a feasible way to get rid of Voldemort. He hoped that if he explained the whole Horcrux thing to Snape, his mentor might be able to think of something.

Draco knocked on the door, waited a few seconds, knocked again. Nobody answered. Great, they'd get nowhere if Snape was absorbed in a potion.

Tentatively, Draco opened the door and peered inside.

The room was wiped clean. There were no plush chairs or perfectly ordered cabinets, no scrubbed cauldrons or sanitized instruments. All that was left were a few empty shelves and spotless counter whereupon there sat a vial of clear liquid and a folded note.

Draco hesitated for a second, took a deep breath, and unfolded the piece of parchment.

His eyes went wide. Who knew that the whole mess would be solved so simply.

They snuck into the lair under Potter's invisibility cloak, knocked out Crabbe and Goyle and locked them in a kitchen cupboard. They donned their victims Death Eater robes, performed a few adjustment spells, and sprinkled Snape's potion on top the food before serving it.

He and Potter stood at the side of the table, masks firmly in place, and listened to the conversation turn to the final plans for the Ministry invasion set to occur the next day. The conversation got lively, then started to slow, and then completely stopped.

Every person in the room sat immobile.

Draco admired his mentor more in that moment than he could ever remember doing so before. Some of the guests had only done so much as nibble on a biscuit or take a drink of wine, yet all of them had been affected.

Dear Draco,

Potter threw off his mask.

I know you might not understand why I have abandoned you at such a time.

He jumped on top of the table.

An emergency has come up with an old acquaintance.

He withdrew his wand from the folds of his inner robes.

I have delayed my departure as much as I possibly could.

He pointed the wand at Voldemort.

You have no need to worry, I am going to a safe place.

His mouth opened.

The vial sitting on this counter contains a strong paralysis potion.

His lips formed a stream of beautiful sound.

I am sure that you know how to administer it.

The Dark Lord writhed and arched in his chair.

Do not fret, you are more than capable than you realize.

The corpse slumped over, steam rolled off of it in waves.

Have faith. - Severus Snape

It was all done so easily.

On their way back to France they made two stops. The first was Gringotts, to fill out new paperwork regarding the Potter and Black fortunes. Despite Potters' much-publicized death, the goblins hardly batted an eye at their requests. Draco had explained to Potter wizard laws regarding vampires, but Potter was still shocked at how easily the goblins took it. Within an hour the paperwork had been processed and the Potter fortune split four ways between Molly and Arthur Weasley, Ron Weasley, Hermoine Granger, and, much to Draco's surprise, Remus Lupin. Potter had intended to sign away the Black fortune too, until Draco pointed out that he still would need some money for himself.

The second stop was St. Mungos. Granger and Weasley had been moved to a section with less intensive care, proof that they were doing better, Draco supposed. They both looked a bit tired out and pale - much like Potter had just two days ago - but otherwise appeared to be in good health.

Draco had taken a cursory look inside the room when Potter snuck in beneath his invisibility cloak. Potter had made it very clear that he didn't want company, so Draco sat in the lobby, flipping through magazines and newspapers to help pass the time. The newest edition of The Daily Prophet was among the stacks. The front page headline read "Voldemort Vanquished by Unknown Hero."

Well, news did travel fast. Voldemort had likely not been dead for three hours before the Prophets regular release time.

The bench cushiones next to him depressed a bit. He turned and found Potter sitting with the invisibility cloak in his arms, face flushed and a bit sweaty.

"All done?" Draco asked quietly.

Potter nodded and rubbed an arm across his face, a poor attempt to disguise the fact that he'd been crying.

"Good then, let's go back."

"Malfoy?"

Draco turned towards Potter and lifted an eyebrow.

"What about Bellatrix?"

Draco paused for a second, then he folded the newspaper and handed it to Potter, "She and a few other Death Eaters tried to break into the ministry after the Dark Lord died. None of them made it even halfway up. It was practically a suicide mission."

Potter stared at the article. "Oh."

"Yes, a bit anticlimactic, isn't it?"

This time it was Potters turn to lift an eyebrow.

Once they got back to France life settled into a routine. Draco spent a month putting family affairs in order. His father had invested a lot of money in different expenditures that were supposed to pan out once the Dark Lord took over. As it was, it took all of Draco's wit and high-born charms to keep his fortune. Potter, strangely enough, had ensconced himself in the Manor library, supposedly intent on tutoring himself in French and learning all of the information he had missed out on by skipping his last year of Hogwarts education.

Draco was in the midst of reading a stack of legal papers when Potter made his grand re-entrance into Draco's life. Draco had just moved one stack of papers to a corner of the desk when he looked up and saw Potter standing in the middle of the room.

"I've been in here for ten minutes."

"Wouldn't have hurt you to say something then, would it."

Draco picked up another paper only to have it ripped out of his hands. "Hey!"

"You've been ignoring me for over a month and now I find out that you've lied to me as well, I'll rip as many papers as I fucking please!"

What the fuck. "Potter, have you gone mad?"

"I found your vampire books in the library."

"Well, being that the library belongs to a vampire, I find it unsurprising that it contains book relevant to vampirism." Draco picked up another paper only to have it ripped out of his hands again.

"I read the chapter on blood bonds you, you fucking bastard!" Potter yelled.

Oh.The surprise was evident on Draco's face, he was sure. He must be losing his touch if it hadn't occurred to him that Potter would stumble upon that information eventually.

"I am sorry, so are you now ungrateful that I revived you from death?"

"No, just. Oh, Merlin. All this time I've been having these feelings and, and, these thoughts and I was sure that I had gone mental and I come to find that it's all because of the fucking blood bond." And just as suddenly is the anger had infused Potter, it seemed to leave. He slumped in a chair, looking utterly devastated. "I didn't mean to say all that."

Feelings? Thoughts? Draco wasn't sure how to approach this situation, bugger. An uncomfortable silence dragged on. When it became apparent that Potter had nothing left to say Draco licked his lips and started talking. "The bond cannot go against anything vital to either of our characters."

Potter looked it him steadily, a touch of wariness in the expression.

"Supposedly, the nature of the bond is determined by what suits both parties best. It is often thought that the bond that develops would have developed naturally without aid, given the right circumstances."

"Is that all?" Potter said slowly. "That's all you have to say?"

Draco raked a hand through his hair in exasperation. "What more would you have me say?"

Potter got up wearily and walked through the door.

Draco leaned his head on the desk. Why?

Several hours later, Draco awoke to green eyes. He blinked, attempting to reorient himself with his surroundings. It was still daylight, his internal clock told him that he had a half hour until sunset. Odd.

"I still don't quite understand." Potter started, "But I don't think that these feelings are going to go away. And no matter what I think or how I explain it to myself, I still want the same thing."

Draco's brow furrowed, "Potter, were you up all day thinking of this?"

"Have you thought of it at all?"

Oh no, feelings. Draco detested talking about feelings. He glared at Potter, but it had no effect. Dammit.

"I realized shortly after you awoke that things were not going as I anticipated. Once I realized what it was, I did my best to leave well enough alone."

Potter looked a bit hurt. "Why?"

"We had other things to do. How would you have reacted if I had brought it up?"

Potter continued to watch him. Slowly, he lifted a hand up and ran a finger down the side of Draco's face. "Did you want to bring it up?"

Potter's breath washed across Draco's face. Oh dear Merlin. "There was never." he lost his train of thought when Potter's fingers reached his lips. They slid back up towards his forehead and he attempted to gather his addled wits. "Never a good time."

Those tempting fingers retreated, lying just on top of the bedspread, scant inches from Draco's arm. "Malfoy?"

Draco gazed at Harry, at those full lips and clear eyes. Oh god. He leaned over and, giving Potter plenty of time to retreat, slowly pressed a chaste kiss against those full lips. He felt a startled gust of breath against his face, heard Potter's breath catch. Draco started to withdraw, but Potter chased him and reattached himself to Draco's lips, inciting a full kiss. Draco was lost in a haze of moist tongues and hot breath and when he came up for air a few minutes later he found that he and Potter had somehow gotten themselves tangled up in each other.

"Malfoy."

"Yes?"

"Call me Harry."

Draco exhaled and, if possible, his heart sped even faster. "Seriously?"

"Yeah." Potter had taken to running his fingers along the buttons of Draco's shirt. "Oh, and Malfoy."

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to call you Draco, from now on."

Draco had somehow gotten something lodged in his throat. He tried to breathe and came up a bit short. "Yeah, sure, okay."

Potter, no, Harry, was kissing along Draco's neck and his fingers were undoing the buttons of Draco's shirt. Warm hands were running along Draco's flesh and oh, it felt so good. Draco couldn't seem to think straight. One of those hands dipped down to cup his arousal through his pants and he heard somebody moan. Surely that low, needy sound hadn't come from him.

"Draco." Harry's lips ghosted along his the dip between his neck and shoulder blade, "Draco." Further up, just beneath his chin, "Draco."

Draco shakily nodded his acquiescence "Do it."

Lips suckled hard on the flesh, then there was a whisper of teeth immediately followed by a sharp pain. Harry's hand snuck beneath his pants and began fondling Draco's hard cock, those fingers wiping across the tip and firmly stroking up and down. Draco could do nothing but helplessly arch into that sure hand and hard mouth and gasp and groan his approval. It was too much, too much, and all too soon he felt the orgasm rush through him, leaving him limp and sated.

Harry lay on top of him, leisurely licking his neck and running a hand from belly to hip and back again. There was an unmistakable hardness poking against Draco's thigh. Well, best do something about that.

Draco placed one of his hands at the small of Potter's back and moved the other to the front of Harry's pants. He gently stroked over the firm bulge, a questioning touch. A slight thrust of the hips was given in reply, and Draco moved his other hand to help with the task of relieving Harry of his pants. He worked his way down the fastenings and pulled the fabric off of Harry's body. Draco used it to wipe at his still-sticky belly before tossing it to the side of the bed.

Harry's cock stood firm and proud from a nest of dark curls; Draco had the urge to take it into his mouth and work Harry to the edge, but he had other, more delicious plans. He nuzzled his way up Harry's body, from knee to groin to belly to nipple. He sucked at Harry's neck hard enough to leave a light mark before abandoning his prize to reach over the side of the bed. Harry groaned his name in disappointment and arched upwards, but Draco wouldn't be swayed. He sifted through the contents of his bedside drawers until he found what he was looking for and held it in front of Potter's face in triumph.

Harry's eyes, dark and deep, became a bit wider. "Draco, you don't have to -"

"I want to." Draco replied firmly, taking the stopper off of the vial and dipping his fingers inside. He set the vial to the side and scooted back. "Life your legs," he encouraged, and leaned against Harry's firm thighs, playing with his own half-hard cock with one hand and reaching behind his balls and scrotum with the other. He stopped and gauged Potter's reaction. The boy wonder was staring at him in fascination and a bit of awe. Both of Harry's hands moved to rub up and down Draco's thighs. The touch sent a shudder through Draco's body and gave him the last impetus he needed to continue. Draco stuck first one finger inside, then two, pushing them deep and searching for that magic spot. He mewled, unable to reach it from his current position. His cock was hard and dripping, and he was riding his own fingers but unable to reach what he needed. A finger joined the other two and Draco's eyes opened in shock. Harry's finger wriggled in among his own, massaging Draco's velvety insides, pushing deeper than Draco had been able. Harry twisted the finger and Draco's vision blanked when he found the spot.

The finger withdrew and a hand grabbed at Draco's wrist and drew it back, receiving a groan of disappointment at the action. Both of Harry's hands moved to either side of Draco's hips and guided him until the head of Potter's cock was resting at Draco's entrance. Bright, feverish eyes sought out Draco. "Ready?" Potter asked, and Draco pushed forward in reply. They moaned together, enjoying the slow, sure glide as Draco slid down until their hips met. He hissed a bit, there was no pain but a good bit of discomfort. Potter's hands soothed and drove him onward, and soon their bodies were slapping together, both of them moaning so that there was no way to distinguish who was voicing what. Draco felt the tingle start low in his belly and spread outward. He tried to stall it, tried to make the pleasure last, but Harry was thrusting inside him and fondling his cock and moaning his name and Draco could do nothing but succumb to the hot bliss of orgasm.

They lay together in the afterglow, bodies sticky and entertwined and so utterly sated that Draco couldn't find the energy to be displeased at the mess they had made of his bedcovers. There was likely more to reveal and discuss and share. It would come in time - a later time.

Harry's chest moved steadily under Draco's ear, the steady, soothing hum making him a bit drowsy.

There is never an end.

Author Notes:

I did a little bit of research before writing this fic. Not because research was really needed, so much as I happened to own a copy of The Vampire Book: The Encyclopedia of the Undead by J. Gordon Melton, and it seemed stupid to write a vampire story without at least attempting to glean some knowledge from a book that I, sadly, haven't looked at much.

The idea of there needing to be certain circumstances in which a vampire could be made came from several cultures touched upon in the book. Many different cultures believed that there were various "signs" that meant a person might be prone to vampirism. While being born in the caul (the amniotic membrane that encases a baby while it resides in the mothers womb) is considered to be a sign of good luck in some cultures, others, such as people of Slavic or Germanic origin, tended to believe that being born in the caul was a sign that the baby might be prone to vampirism. The same goes for people who died an unnatural death, such as by suicide or an unfortunate accident.

As for the details concerning Harry's corpse, I contemplated looking up the details of the progression of disfigurement in a drowned body, but was afraid of what kind of pictures I'd come across in the process. Because of that my details might not be totally correct, but I'm not so dedicated to my research that I'll go looking at pictures of dead people. Sorry to disappoint.

The more I reread this story the more I find to nitpick at. There is quite a lot I think I could have done better. However, since I don't want to diminish the enjoyment others might find in this story, rather than pointing out everything about it that bothers me I'll settle for apologizing beforehand for anything that bothered the reader(s). Mis apologias.