Harry hated Halloween, how could he not. It was the day Voldemort killed his parents, the day he became an orphan and the day he was foisted on his Muggle Aunt and Uncle and their brat of a son.
Ok, so maybe he had learned to accept all of the above facts over the years and moved on, and maybe his cousin wasn’t as bad now, but he still wasn’t a big fan of Halloween.
Unfortunately, all his friends loved Halloween. It was the only night of the year witches and wizards could get away with being themselves in the Muggle World without attracting any attention.
Even vampires could move about undetected, but they still wouldn’t be able to get away with murder. Too many unexplained disappearances in one night would draw too much attention.
This year Harry and his friends had been invited to a Vampire themed party and he was secretly hoping that some real vampires would infiltrate the place. He had met werewolves in the flesh, but had yet to make the acquaintance of a vampire.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Harry was looking around the Muggle Halloween store for a suitable costume. His shopping basket already contained fanged teeth, some silvery white face paint, a red silk cape and a red silk cravat. He was going to wear the tuxedo he had bought for Dudley’s wedding last year and was just looking for one last iconic item to bring it all together.
Something that would give it, what the girls referred to as, the ‘it’ factor.
He spotted it hanging from a hook on the wall. The sign above it read ‘Wig of Thranduil ~ original item, as worn in the films.’
Harry was unfamiliar with whatever films they were referring to, but the price tag of £500 suggested that this must be a unique item.
The long silver hair was exactly what would make his vampire outfit perfect.
The only problem was that it left his forehead exposed and therefore wouldn’t be any good at concealing his identity. Even though his scar was looking much fainter these days, it still identified him instantly as Harry Potter. Maybe he should cover it with face paint.
Then he had another idea. Why not hide his now faint scar behind an angry looking large fake one with lots of black stitches that did not resemble his actual scar.
Hiding in plain sight, so to speak.
The more Harry thought about it, the more he liked the idea. Then another idea struck him, for which he needed some help from the only medical person he could trust, Madam Pomfrey.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When Harry arrived at Malfoy Manor, every window of the house was lit up. There were candles everywhere and there were luscious drapes hanging from the ceilings.
The Mansion was a hive of activity. Harry recognised his host of course and some of his friends, but there were also lots of strange people milling about. Draco had decided the make this year's Halloween party an Open House.
Most of the guests were dressed up like Muggle versions of Count Dracula, but a few people stood out. Somehow they didn’t look as if they had tried too hard. They looked natural and perfectly comfortable in their own skin. Harry noticed that all the mirrors in the Mansion were covered with drapes, so Harry had nothing but his own instinct to help him identify these guests as vampires.
He had obviously been staring at a particularly fine specimen for too long and when the young man caught his gaze, Harry felt himself blush.
The man sauntered over and introduced himself as Damien. He looked to be in his early thirties and was absolutely gorgeous.
‘I like you hair,’ Damien said.
‘Thanks, it belonged to some film dude,’ Harry replied.
Damien laughed and offered him a silver goblet filled with red liquid.
Harry took a careful sip.
‘Red wine,’ he said, as if to confirm something.
‘Were you expecting something else, like blood?’ Damien laughed and then whispered conspiratorially, ‘It is not on offer, I asked.’
‘You asked?’ Harry gasped.
‘Hey, you’d be surprised what you can ask on Halloween night at a party like this,’ Damien said.
‘I once asked someone, could I bite him,’ and the stupid git said ‘Yes’, oblivious to what that would do to him.
I didn’t do it, of course,’ he quickly added.
Harry looked Damien in the eyes and could see that the man was being genuine. He took a long gulp of his wine and took Damien by the hand.
‘Let’s dance,’ he said, and with that he led his new friend to the already packed dance floor.
Harry wasn’t known for his dancing skills, but he had been made to take lessons for Dudley’s wedding last year, so he could now more or less hold his own.
Damien, being a far more accomplished dancer, took the lead and Harry followed, as Damien picked his way effortlessly through the dancing couples. The pair glided around the floor as if they had been doing this all their lives.
They laughed and talked, drank some more wine and danced some more.
They clearly hit it off.
A romantic soul could be forgiven to think that it was as if they were made for each other.
When Damien offered to get them another refill, Harry got up the courage to say, ‘How about something a little different?’
‘What did you have in mind,’ Damien asked, worried that Harry was one of these Vampire groupies looking to be bitten.
Harry led Damien out into the garden down some steps to where there was a large fountain.
This is where he had stashed his little surprise earlier.
It was an ordinary wine bottle with a gold edged label showing just a lightning bolt.
Now that he had gotten this far, Harry all of a sudden got nervous.
‘I hope this isn’t weird, but I have brought a bottle of my own blood, just in case I would meet someone like you.’
‘I’d say that classifies as weird,’ Damien laughed.
‘Shit, I know,’ Harry said staring at the bottle of his own blood, ‘This was a stupid idea.’
Damien was still laughing, but not in a nasty way.
He seemed more amused than upset.
‘I just wanted to make sure that if I met someone like you, I would be prepared, you know, ‘ Harry said miserably.
‘That we wouldn’t accidentally do something we would regret later. And I am not some silly Vampire groupie,’ he quickly added.
‘There aren’t many Wizarding families left,’ Harry said by way of explanation, ‘and of the eligible wizards and witches, no one really ticks the right boxes for me, and dating a Muggle has its own challenges.’
Damien stroked his cheek, which made Harry blush again.
He walked over to a nearby bench and sat down, looking quite dejected.
‘What about that blonde host of ours, whose eyes follow you around everywhere?’ Damien asked.
‘Oh, Draco and I have had our moments. He can be sweet and very passionate, but is also very needy and a magnet for drama. We fooled around for a bit, but have gone our separate ways,’ Harry replied.
‘Are you sure? He seems to be still very invested from the way he keeps an eye on your every move.’
‘Draco is the type of guy who wants what he cannot have, but once he has it, he loses interest.’
‘I know the type,’ Damien said, as he sat down beside Harry.
He put his hand on Harry’s leg.
‘Harry…,’ he began, and then paused, a pained look on his face.
‘…our sort are not really the dating type.’
‘No worries, I already said it was a stupid idea,’ Harry shrugged self-consciously.
‘I just thought that it would be nice to hang out, to see if we were compatible and then in a few years, when I have caught up to your age and if we were fated to be mated, then maybe you could do your thing.’
Harry was now blushing profusely, even to his own ears this sounded so stupid and childish, like something you would read in a romance novel.
‘Fated to be mated?’ Damien laughed, ‘where did you pick up that expression?’
‘Oh, a romance novelist friend of mine says it all the time.’
‘Not Virginia Lake, the virgin of the lake?’ Damien gasped.
‘I can’t testify to the virgin part, and her real name is Ginevra. Virginia is her author pseudonym, but Yes that one. She goes by Ginny, by the way. I can introduce you, if you like, she is here somewhere.’
‘Well, if we are fated to be mated,’ Damien laughed, ‘I am sure I will meet her at some stage. I recon you have about ten years of catching up to do, so let’s just see how it goes.’
He gave Harry’s leg another squeeze and then leaned over and kissed Harry softly on the mouth. Harry nearly swooned.
‘You are very sweet, Harry,’ Damien said.
Harry nearly said, ‘Wait till you taste my blood,’ but he had said and done enough stupid things already this night.
‘You were willing to tap and bottle your own blood on the off chance of meeting someone tonight, that is quite unusual, you know, and also quite hot.’
‘It is nothing. I discussed it with a medic friend of mine and it is completely safe as long as you only take small amounts. She also showed me how to store it safely.’
Before Harry could go into a detailed description of how to store his own blood, Damien kissed him again, harder and more sensuous, forcing Harry’s lips to part slightly in response.
‘Oh, boy,’ was all Harry could think, nothing had ever tasted sweeter.
‘What would you say to taking this bottle and getting out of here to somewhere more private,’ Damien suggested, as judging by the voices drifting towards them, their peace was about to be disturbed.
‘Sure thing,’ Harry said, grabbing his special vintage.
‘Mind if I apparated us to my place?’
‘Be my guest’, Damien said, putting his hand into Harry’s.
With a pop they were gone.