Draco groaned softly as he slid the glass door to his shower open. He grabbed his towel that hung off a hook and wrapped it around his waist after using it to pat his hair a bit dry.

He used his hand to wipe some of the condensation off of the mirror. Some was left behind, making his appearance look cut up.

He started with his hand, slowly flexing each of his fingers before rotating his wrists. Draco stretched out his forearms, biceps, and triceps, sighing at the feeling. Hot showers helped loosen his muscles, and he made sure to spend the time stretching them every single morning and every single night.

Draco was not always so... weak.

When he first turned, he woke up hungry. Starving, in fact. It had felt like every cell in his body was screaming at him that he would die if he did not eat. It did not matter how much shame he had felt being handed over to a beast by the Dark Lord. He did not feel anything other than hunger. He did not know anything other than that he needed to eat.

When he woke up that day, he had unbridled energy and strength. He was quicker than lightning, and within no time, he found himself out of the woods and in a Muggle town he had never stepped foot in before. Nobody was around, and it was no surprise why. Half the houses were demolished, likely victims of a Death Eater rampage. But he smelled something, and he knew it was blood.

That night, he practically blacked out. He could not remember to this day how he found that girl, but he could remember his mind waking up halfway through draining her body. The blood he took from her was exquisite, soothing his body and his brain, but it brought him to his senses, and he stopped. He left. He did not know that he was signing himself up to a lifetime of pain.

The high from that girl's blood — from Reva Vora's blood — lasted only a day. He became hungry once more, and in the young form of his state, it was impossible to keep himself from attacking the first human he saw. Draco fed from many humans, magical and Muggle alike, but none of them had blood to give that was anything like hers.

It fed him, and it filled him, but it could hardly sustain him. Those vampiric privileges he woke up with faded away quickly. After some time, he could not even run as fast as his human self was able to, nor were his senses as heightened. Devoid of the sustenance it needed, his body began to shut down. Blurry eyesight in the morning before drinking blood, knuckles that ached from simple tasks, and entire body parts that were beginning to refuse to work.

He trained himself to stop attacking humans eventually. If they could not give him what he needed, he did not want to feel guilty for feeding from them anyways. He tried animals, but he found himself deteriorating even quicker for those few months. Eventually, Draco was lucky to meet and cut a deal with Leveret.

After nine years, Draco found himself with the problems of a middle-aged man. It was a wonder he was able to maintain his figure along the way.

It was only after months and months of research did Draco find out why his condition was the way it was a few years ago. It was all because he didn't kill her. And when he smelled her blood that day in the hospital, it was as though he was given a taste of everything he could have been if he had simply killed her all those years ago.

Still in his towel, Draco wandered to the kitchen. He opened the cabinet where he kept his blood. It was charmed to be bigger and deeper than it appeared on the outside as well as to maintain the perfect conditions to keep the blood for long.

As he poured a bag into a cup, he heard a knock at the door and froze.

Exactly five people knew where he lived: his mother, his father, Theo, Pansy, and Leveret. His parents had never been to his apartment before, and he was certain they never planned to. Theo and Pansy did occasionally invade his privacy and come without warning, but he knew confidently that they were out in some club that particular night. And Leveret already came the day before to drop off the monthly blood bag supply.

So that left approximately no options.

He looked down at his half naked self, ultimately deciding that anyone rude enough to disturb him in the middle of the night did not deserve his decency, and he sauntered over to the door and swung it open.

He was met with deep, dark eyes that stared up at him with a mixture of rage, fear, and overall frenzy.

Draco did not move, nor did he react. The sight before him simply stunned him into paralysis.

He assumed she came here straight from her work at the Spiny Beetle, for she was dressed in the same attire as when he had... stopped her that night two weeks ago. Tall black heels, a short, snug black skirt that left most of her thighs vulnerable to the chill outside, and a fitted white blouse that allowed him to see how heavily she was breathing. She wore her hair down, today slightly wavy. It was as dark as her eyes, tucked behind her ears. Though her skin was deep and brown, he could see a slight flush over her cheeks, likely caused by the weather outside. Her full lips were drawn into a straight, grim line. She appeared like a force to be reckoned with. He knew immediately that her small stature was packed with might.

And she had her wand out in her hand, pointed at him in a rather condemning manner. It was mere inches from his bare chest, threatening to jinx him should he make a single wayward move.

Draco wished he could say that he knew she would come around immediately, but he did not. When he made the decision to confront her, it was a desperate attempt. He knew it would frighten her, but he also knew she would only listen to him if he forced her to.

Reva's eyebrows furrowed. "Why are you naked?"

Draco took a small step back. Of all the things she could have said to him, that was not what he was expecting.

"Why are you here?" he retorted, reaching his hand to hold the top of the doorframe.

He watched her eyes briefly glance down to his torso, likely noticing the thin scars on his skin. His heart was in his throat, beating like a drum and sending shocks to the rest of his body. He couldn't smell any blood on her, but he could smell her. She smelled like jasmine and saffron, two sweet scents that wrapped around her. But she also smelled faintly of alcohol, likely from the bar, and very slightly of disinfectant from the hospital. But beyond what she carried on her, he could simply smell her. The smell of her skin, the smell she naturally carried, and it was making him hungry. His gums were hurting with the pressure of his fangs which so desperately wanted to reveal themselves, but he refrained himself. When she was not actively bleeding, it was easier for him not to act like a beast.

He watched her jut her chin out rather indignantly. He knew why she came, of course, but he did not want to let himself believe it before he heard it. Reva appeared frustrated by his question, as though she had not quite accepted the fact she was there.

"You know why."

"I don't, really."

She looked away from him, glaring down the hallway as her tongue poked at the side of her cheek. If he wasn't so absolutely hungry and tired, Draco would have found her irritation amusing.

She turned back to face him. "I'm here for your money," Reva responded decidedly, standing a little straighter.

Draco's heart skipped a beat. "I need you to be a bit more clear, Vora. Are you robbing me?"

She looked at him with an expression of profound exasperation. "Is that an option?"

"Unfortunately not."

"I'll do it," she snapped, her head falling. "I'll give you my blood."

Draco nearly fell to the floor, but he managed to keep himself upright. He glanced between her eyes, tilting his head down to get a better look at her face. She seemed positively displeased by him getting closer to her, but he ignored that as he searched for any signs that she was lying to him. Why she would come all the way here to lie about that, he didn't know, but he could hardly wrap his mind around the fact that she was here and she was giving him her blood.

Hearing those words was enough to trigger a bit of relief in his body. He felt the tension in his shoulders release as he took yet another step back into his apartment, looking at her with what could only be described as awe.

He pulled the door open entirely, one hand clutching his towel lest it fall in front of her.

"Come in."

Reva stared at him for a few long seconds before taking a deep, bracing breath. It was like her body was working as hard as possible to keep her in the hallway and outside of his apartment. Her gut was begging for the rest of her to realize how utterly stupid it was to walk into the lair of a beast. But she reminded herself that — he will not hurt you, it would not be in his best interest. He will not hurt you, it would not be in his best interest. Over and over, like a mantra of sorts, his words from that other night replayed in her mind. They were not exactly pacifying words, but they were enough to fight against her survival instincts.

She mustered what was left of her dignity and threw it behind her as she managed to cross the threshold with stiff movements. She took a few more small steps before stopping and crossing her arms tightly over her stomach, trying to ignore the disconcerting sensation of being stared at by Draco Malfoy. He closed the door behind her before gesturing at her.

"Sit, please. Would you like tea?"

Reva didn't respond. She was busy looking around his apartment. She couldn't help it; it was just so starkly different from her own. It was far bigger, to begin with. Her apartment could likely fit twice in just the space of his living room and kitchen combined. On one end were glass sliding doors leading to a balcony. His walls were painted a dark shade of green and decorated with paintings of all styles and sizes. His couch looked expensive, a rich cream shade begging to have wine spilled on it. Against one wall was a tall shelf absolutely packed with old books that seemed they would disintegrate with one touch. On the other side was a massive kitchen that Reva knew Roshan would absolutely kill to cook in. She wondered if every single cabinet was just filled with blood.

Reva's stomach twisted with that last thought. In admiring the apartment that clearly had high rent, she had almost forgotten why she was there.

Malfoy was suddenly in front of her holding a steaming mug of black tea out for her to take.

"Help yourself to milk and sugar on the island. I'll change and return."

Reva took the mug gently, careful not to touch any of his fingers with her. She watched him turn and walk through an ajar door across from her, tilting her head at the sight of several silver scars on his back dancing with each movement of his muscles. He shut the door behind him rather loudly, finally snapping her out of her stupor.

She made her way over to the island, finally registering how cold she truly was from walking in the March night without a coat to keep her warm. Shivering slightly, she sat herself down on a silver stool next to the island. She was loath to accept anything from him, but a tea was exactly what she needed to warm up.

Reva absentmindedly mixed some milk and sugar into her mug all while staring at the door through which Malfoy had walked only a minute ago. Her heart was pounding. She still could hardly believe she was there.

When Draco stepped out of his room, Reva was already staring at him. Her eyes dragged down his body as though to ensure he was actually clothed this time, and she thankfully did not seem put off this time by his simple gray sweater and linen pants. She took a sip of her tea, watching him over the brim with scrutinizing eyes.

Draco thought for a moment to take a seat at another stool by the island, but from the look on her face, he decided it was best to keep some distance between them. Instead, he sat at the very edge of an armchair, turning his body towards her. He was worried, he had to admit, that any small move or decision he made would be enough to change her mind.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, she spoke first.

"I know I said I'll give you my blood. What I meant was... I will consider it. But I have questions to be answered first and demands that must be met."

Draco nodded. He did not expect anything else. "Of course. I have my own questions and clarifications."

He watched her place her mug down.

"First, if we are to... strike a deal, all expectations must be made clear and written into a contract. Now, I take it we will not be able to properly notarize a contract nor bring it to the Ministry's justice system if either of us were to violate it, so we will have to bind it with magic," Reva articulated, her posture impeccably straight and her facial features stony.

"That would be wise. We can draw that up today."

"Next. You offered me how much?"

"100 Galleons a week."

"Right. I don't see a price fit to sell you my body, but it is certainly higher than that."

"That's not a problem," Draco uttered, running a hand through his wet hair to get it off of his forehead. "How does 200 sound?"

Reva's expressions did not change, but her brief silence spoke for her. He gathered that she was planning on negotiating a lower amount.

"That will do. Then, logistics. You said you wanted one liter every day, correct?" She shook her head and crossed her legs. "It does not take a Healer to know that that is simply impossible. I would be sent into shock after only two days. I will only be able to donate one pint, and it can only be every two months. Unless —"

"That won't be a problem either." He cleared his throat, seeing the dour look that took over her face at his interruption. "I have developed a potion that will allow you to recoup your blood loss within hours. If you show any side effects, then I will adjust it as needed."

Her eyebrows pressed together. "How is that possible? How have you done that?"

"In the past nine years, I have experimented quite a bit with potions. I have developed artificial blood as well as supplements to subside cravings. I have become quite knowledgeable in the matter. If you are concerned, you are more than welcome to observe the ingredients and the process."

Her chin tilted up. "I would prefer that. Now, the method of... extraction..." She bit her lip, showing the first outward sign of fear since her arrival. "You will not bite me."

"I was not planning to."

She squinted. "Then what were you planning?"

"You will donate your blood the way every other person on this planet does. I have bags."

Reva was just fixated on him, her plump lips pursed. She took a long sip of her tea, wrapping her fingers around the porcelain of her mug. He tilted his head at her, eyes scanning her entire figure. Her entire body appeared tense, one of her heeled feet tapping in midair with rapid rhythm. The surprise she was clearly trying to contain was no surprise to him. It is not unfair to assume that an animal would eat like an animal.

She shifted in her seat on the stool. "Well. I am very busy, and I cannot promise I will be able to donate my blood every single day. You can prorate my pay weekly based on any missed days."

"I understand, but you must clarify on how many missed days I should expect."

She took another sip of her tea. "Each week will be different. Some might be particularly busy, and I may even miss multiple days in a row. It might be wise to set a budget for each month. How about four days in a month?"

Draco thought for a moment, his index finger pressed against his lower lip. He paused, and then he replied, "That seems reasonable. We can additionally see how the first month goes and expand that budget if needed. I also will not expect you to donate on days you are feeling ill or unwell. You will only be expected to give blood when you are in your topmost health, but I will leave that up to your discretion."

"That seems fair. Now... the longevity of our deal. For how long am I expected to donate to you?"

"Until I find a way to replicate your blood. I will be working on it daily, I assure you. All I seek from this deal is to replenish my health, not to hold you hostage for life."

"And what if you never find a replacement?"

He looked away, finding himself staring at an oil painting of the moon setting over a lake. It was rather large, mounted on the wall across from him. He'd bought it from a charity auction, just as he had every other painting in the apartment.

Not finding a replacement was not an option.

"Three years."

Reva scoffed, catching Draco entirely off guard. When his eyes snapped back to look at her, she did not seem amused in the slightest.

"I hardly think so. Six months."

Draco's eyebrows rose slowly, his heart beating halfway out of his chest. "One year," he spoke softly, wondering if he was willing to beg.

She bit the inside of her cheek. "Fine. Only because you accepted my raised pay."

He sunk back in his armchair, rubbing his temples with his hand. His mind was spinning, likely because he was supposed to be having his dinner right now. It was sitting on the island not too far from Reva, but she somehow did not notice it yet. And something told Draco that she would not respond positively to seeing him drink blood.

"I think a non-disclosure clause would be wise for both of us," he said after a long minute of silence, his eyes trained on the coffee table in front of his chair. "I assume you would not want your friends, coworkers, or brother to know that you are donating. Similarly, I would prefer to keep my condition between myself and those I have entrusted with the knowledge."

"Entrusted?"

He looked up at her, furrowing his brows at the indignation in her voice.

She was gripping her tea so tightly that her knuckles were beginning to pale. It was as though her eyes were capable of shooting red hot fire at him, the way they glowered at him with such unblinking animosity.

"I hardly think my knowledge of your condition comes from you simply entrusting me with it," she all but spat, uncrossing her legs.

Something heavy settled in Draco's chest as he watched her. He felt oddly loose, muscles strangely relaxed, and yet it felt like he could not move if he wanted to. He was stuck sitting there, looking at her, soaking in the malice that radiated off of her in waves.

Suddenly, she was no longer twenty-five years old and sat in his apartment. Suddenly, she was nine years younger, sprawled on the floor of her half destroyed home in a pool of her own blood. Suddenly, she was spinning in and out of consciousness, in a tortured cycle of fear and forgetting. He was looming over her, out of breath and full of unbridled energy. He was watching her eyes open, register him, and widen with fear before rolling into the back of her head as her body struggled to decide whether to keep her awake or let her sleep. He was standing paralyzed, his feet by her hips, incapable of thinking or moving as bloodthirst battled guilt inside of his body. He was glued to her side by the smell of her blood, but the sound of her faint cries and pleas was chipping away at his drunken hypnosis. He was licking his lips, tasting her on them, and wondering how he could ever live with the knowledge that he had passed onto her one of the most painful things he had ever experienced.

"You are right," he spoke decidedly. "What I did to you... I must apologize for it. I am sorry for it. Truly."

She shook her head. "I never asked for an apology from you, Malfoy. You can keep it. I don't believe it anyway."

"Why did you never report me?" He ignored her words entirely. He didn't expect her to believe him.

"Does it matter?" she retaliated. "Perhaps focus on being grateful that I didn't."

"Why did you come here?"

"Shouldn't you know that by now?'

"Why the change of heart? What convinced you?"

Her fingers drummed against her mug. "If you must know... I hope to quit the bar soon. You predicted it, didn't you? That my boss would drive me over the wall? I bet you are pleased. How did you know all of that? How did you know about my work, about my life, about my brother? Have you been stalking me ever since that day in the hospital?" Her tone became more and more accusatory until she was suddenly on her feet, shoulders falling and rising with urgency.

Draco tilted his head. "I wouldn't call it stalking... more so collecting information."

"How?"

"I am a well-connected man."

It was true, for the most part. It was not very difficult to hire a private investigator. So, really, he was not stalking her. He only paid someone else to do it for him.

She stared at him. She stared at him for a long time, something that was becoming a habit, seemingly. And then she laughed. It was short, dry, so abrupt that Draco was not sure he had properly heard her. Her plump lips twisted up into a wry smile.

"You are a 'well-connected man.' You remember when you asked why I never reported you?"

"I do, yes."

"That's exactly why." She returned to her stool, looking off to the side. She stirred her tea, which he assumed had gone cold, almost absentmindedly. "We will need a paper and quill."

Draco found a roll of parchment, ink, and two quills with haste, fearing that the longer he took, the more time he gave her to change her mind. This time, when we walked back out into the open area, he sat at the island across from her and opened the parchment up. Over the next hour, the two of them carefully wrote each and every stipulation they had discussed. The ink was charmed so that with each sentence they scribbled, the writing rearranged itself on the parchment in the most logical manner. This was helpful, for as the time passed, they realized more and more clauses they wished to include.

They also discussed fair punishments for possible violations. For the most part, Draco was subject to the most potential violations of the contract, so for the most part, the "punishment" was really just paying her extra money. There were a few exceptions, of course, which would result in the termination of the contract as a whole.

Before they signed, Reva requested to see the potion that Draco had mentioned earlier.

"Right. Come with me to my study."

She was obviously hesitant to do anything with him, but he walked away assuming she would follow.

When Reva stepped through the door at the end of the living room, she had to hold back her gasp. It felt like someone grabbed her and threw her backwards into fourth-year potions class. Where the rest of his apartment was so tidy and precise, his study was just the opposite. Lit by warm yellow lights, the walls could not be seen behind the thickly packed shelves. There were cauldrons of all shapes, sizes, and colors stacked on top of each other to the ceiling. A large brass scale sat in the corner, with a few strange-looking crystals weighing one side down. Several mortal and pestles filled one shelf, crystal phials on another, cutting and juicing boards on a third.

The sheer amount of ingredients in the room was uncountable. She recognized a few both from her days at Hogwarts and her current time at the hospital. Bezoars, various creature thoraxes, shrivelfigs, hemlock, knotgrass. But for each ingredient that she recognized, there were about a dozen that she could not begin to describe.

A large, crooked wooden table sat in the middle. Its surface area was as cluttered as the rest of the room, but in the middle of it sat a large steel cauldron that was bubbling despite lacking a heat source.

She looked up at Malfoy, having to crane her neck to make eye contact with him. He was already looking at her, something strange written in his eyes.

"I have written the formula down," he said, brows furrowed.

After a moment, he broke their eye contact to stride into the room and pick up a bit of parchment from beside the cauldron. It looked so small that Reva wondered how such few ingredients and such few instructions could result in something capable of accelerating the division of her blood cells enough to recoup a liter's loss within hours. There were plenty of blood replenishing potions, but none of them did what he claimed his could.

However, as he approached her, he unfolded it five times over. Reva took it from his hands, her eyes skimming over the list. Some of the ingredients did not surprise her. Powdered unicorn horn, stewed mandrake, asphodel leaves. Some of them she had never heard of being incorporated in a potion before.

She looked up at him slowly. "And you are certain this will work?"

"I have tried it myself. At the very least, it won't kill you."

"How reassuring. But you are a vampire, and I am a human. Wouldn't its effects be different on us? And even if it does not kill me, it has to heal me."

She held the parchment out for him to take. Reva watched Malfoy sigh heavily as he took it from her, folding it back up into a small square.

"This may be difficult for you, Vora," he began, walking to place it where it belonged, "but on this, you may just have to trust me. I told you already, if you show any adverse side effects, I will adjust the potion as needed."

"Trust is quite an ask."

"And yet our deal hinges on you imparting a small amount to me. You have already extended me a bit of it, haven't you? You trust that I won't hurt you enough to be here. Now you must trust that I won't hurt you enough to believe the potion will not."

She inhaled deeply, glancing between his eyes. They were dark, like the clouds under which she walked here. Looming, threatening an impending storm, but holding back ever so slightly. She did not like the way he looked at her. Like she was his next meal — but if she signed that contract, that was exactly what she was consenting to.

Reva had to ask herself what would be more difficult: trusting this vampire just a bit more, or being broke and in debt forever.

Neither answer jumped at her. Instead, one swirled in the smoke of his left eye, and the other danced in the ash of his right, and she continued looking between them.

A life of debt and want was not unclear in the slightest. She knew exactly what to expect, and she dreaded it. In trusting Malfoy just a bit more, even if it was small, there was a greater chance of something good coming out of it. Even if it meant trading her self-respect.

"Let's go sign. Before I change my mind."

They did exactly that. She could not help but notice the haste with which he moved and wrote, and in sharp contrast, she moved as though the air had thickened. Her entire body felt numb as her quill carved out her name. She stopped at the last "a," ink beginning to bleed in a small dot. The moment she picked her hand up, she felt a flashing burn on her palm. It disappeared as soon as it came, the magic settling into the paper and into her skin. Reva stared at her name written onto the parchment. It stared back at her hauntingly.

Reva set the quill down. Her hand was trembling. She quickly placed it beneath her thigh, though she was sure that Malfoy saw it with the way he was gazing at her so intently. She avoided looking at him. So quickly, the concept of hiding her fear from him felt useless. It perhaps provided her comfort in the first two hours she was here, allowing her to hide behind a stony demeanor and find solace in knowing that she had control over the one thing he desired so heavily.

Now, it was his. She had just signed her blood over to him, her body over to him, and had willingly placed her life in the hands of a vampire. No matter how much he assured her he meant to harm, no matter how much she convinced herself it was true, the real truth was that he was a vicious creature capable of ending her life in the blink of an eye. If he ever had a change of heart, no contract would protect her from his fangs.

Her head hung as she felt her breath hasten. Her lungs filled with air rapidly, desperate to feel some sort of relief, but each breath she took only tightened her panic. Reva felt her eyes sting, but she blinked any impending tears away rapidly. She waited until the muscles in her back relaxed before looking back up at Malfoy.

He was watching her. Creased forehead, solemn eyes. He did not seem to be rejoicing over his victory.

"Not today," he spoke quietly.

Reva's lips parted slightly. "What?"

"We won't start today. We'll begin after the weekend. Monday."

Perhaps that would be enough time for her to process what she had just done and somehow put it behind her.

"Alright."

He stood up, tore the parchment off the roll, and curled their contract into a scroll. She watched him grab his serpent's head cane from where it stood leaning against the island and twist the head off to reveal his wand. He wordlessly tapped the scroll, duplicating it in an instant.

Malfoy took one copy and extended it towards Reva.

She took it warily and rolled it up a bit tighter.

Quietly, they both walked towards his front door. He opened it for her, and she slipped past him to step out into the hallway.

"Write to me to let me know when to expect you on Monday," was all he said. He waited for her nod before closing the door.

Reva stared at the door, knowing she would be back there all too soon.