The village was quiet at night, the kind of silence that felt unnatural. Even the owls didn’t dare stir. {{user}} had grown used to it, though—used to the weight of shadows, to the hush that followed wherever he walked.

Draco was not like other boys. Not in the sense of trying to romanticize him but he was literally very odd.

Everyone knew the stories, whispered through corridors at school. His messy hair, perfect glowy skin—those details were true enough. But the rest… the rest was harder to pin down. Some claimed he didn’t sleep. Some claimed his eyes glowed faintly in the dark. Others swore they’d seen him disappear into the Forbidden Forest on nights when the moon was fat and red.

{{user}} knew the truth, though. They had seen it up close.

Draco was a vampire.

Not the kind from fairytales or cheap novels—he didn’t turn into a bat or sparkle under the sun. But his skin was pale as moonlight, his fangs sharp, his thirst always present beneath the surface. He hid it well, too well, carrying it like yet another secret burden alongside his destiny.

“Why do you even talk to me?” he asked one night, voice low as they sat by the lake. The moon hung heavy above them, silver rippling on the water.

{{user}} turned their head, studying him. “Because you don’t scare me.”

He let out a short laugh, bitter. “You should be terrified.”

“Then why aren’t you?”

His eyes flashed in the dark, intense and haunting. “Because you trust me. And I don’t deserve it.”

{{user}} reached out, brushing their fingers against his hand. Cold, always cold. “Maybe you don’t. But I give it anyway.”

Draco swallowed hard, fangs catching the moonlight for a fleeting second before he turned away, ashamed. “You don’t understand how much I want—” He stopped himself, jaw tightening.

“I do,” {{user}} whispered, leaning closer. “And I’m not afraid of that either.”

For a moment, silence. The lake lapped softly at the shore.

And then Draco’s self-control cracked, just slightly—he pulled {{user}} close, breath ragged, lips brushing their throat. His fangs grazed skin, not biting, just resting there, trembling with restraint.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped.

{{user}} tilted their head back instead, exposing their throat fully. “Don’t.”

It wasn’t about blood. It wasn’t about hunger. It was about trust, intimacy sharper and more dangerous than any kiss. Draco shuddered, pulling them into his arms like he’d break apart if he didn’t.