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All Ron had ever wanted was for a vampire to drink his blood.

Sink their canine teeth into his neck, drink up everything in him until he was rendered into a pile of mush, anything to satisfy their desires. Maybe even make him their mate.

For eighteen years, he ate well, he showered well, he took care of himself, and yet nobody had bloody used his blood.

It was as though he was cursed or something. Merlin’s fucking balls!

Not to mention, the one vampire he had wanted since he was eleven had no interest in drinking his blood. No. Blaise Zabini chose his prey differently, and it certainly wasn’t Ron.

And believe him, he had tried!

He always made sure his throat was exposed. He put on cologne. He had even grown the habit to scratch and touch his neck unconsciously at this point. Alas, nothing worked. His neck virginity remained untouched.

And it wasn’t like he hadn’t asked for advice, either. Every single one of his friends had found their vampire. Neville had had his blood drunk last year by Theodore Nott, who had chosen his mate after his series of willing ex-boyfriends. It was surprising, to Neville, at least. Hermione and Pansy became a thing just after First Year, right after Pansy claimed her as they met in the train compartment. And Harry, his vampire best friend, had even found himself one vampire too, none other than Draco Malfoy. They had fun drinking each other’s blood now. Hell, even Percy got his blood sucked, which only happened because his boyfriend Oliver recently became a vampire. It was so unfair!

Ron did everything he could to make himself delectable, and apparently, that wasn’t working. He swore on his uncle’s life that he would get his neck sucked before his nineteenth birthday party, and he was determined to get it done. Whatever way possible.

“Please, please, please!” Ron whined, wrapping his arms around Pansy’s leg even as she tried to shrug him off. “Please, Pansy! Merlin's tits, please!”

“I thought you said we’d have some privacy here, babe,” Pansy said, deadpaning as she sighed and pulled her face away from Hermione’s shoulder. 

“I thought so too,” Hermione murmured, glancing at Ron with her all too knowing look. “Ron. This is a little too much, don’t you think?”

“Please, ‘Mione! I’m desperate! Can’t you see? There’s only one day left until my birthday!”

“We can’t make Blaise pity-suck you, Ron. It’s weird!”

“And slightly pathetic,” Pansy added, and Ron pouted. “Why do you want Blaise that much, Ron? Because I do have other friends who are very willing to help you.”

“No! My first time is special, and I want it to be Blaise!”

“Why?”

“Because!”

“That’s not an answer.” She sighed. “Ron, Blaise is very specific about his meal.”

“I know that, but I take very good care of myself. Why won’t he pick me?” he asked, looking up at Pansy with pleading eyes.

“I don’t know.”

“Can’t you ask him?”

Pansy snorted and said, “It’s amazing how you think we’d get answers from Blaise by asking him.”

“Aren’t you guys his best friends?”

“There are topics we don’t discuss. Like our shitty parents, or the people we drink blood from.”

Ron groaned, rubbing his cheek against Pansy’s knee like a hurt Crup, because he knew it would work on her. Hermione’s kindness had rubbed off of her throughout the years. 

“I just…want him.”

“Why?”

“Because!” he said, pausing midway to think about his answer.

Because Blaise was hot. Good Godric, he was. He was one of the most eligible vampires in the school; he was one of the most known vampires, and he was rumoured to be giving you a good time when he drank your blood. 

And there was just something about him. Something so alluring about the feeling of his sharp fangs sinking into Ron’s neck, breaking the skin as he sucked the life out of Ron. Blaise had been his walking wet dream since he hit puberty, and, sure, there had been other vampires in his wet dreams, but Blaise was the most consistent one, and Ron had a really, really bad crush on him.

“He’s—so hot.” He broke into a choked cry into Pansy’s leg, body sagging against her calf and the cold floor. “I want him, Pansy! Please, please! Can’t you make this a birthday gift for me, please?”

“Okay! Okay! Stop or you’ll get your snot on my pants!” she said, wringing her leg away from his grasp. She pinched the bridge of her nose and added. “I’ll try to help you—”

“Yes!”

“But!” she said. “But I cannot guarantee it will work. Look, Blaise is specific. I don’t know what he wants.”

“That’s okay! I’ll take it!” he said, immediately breaking into a smile. “I just need him to pay attention to me. That’s all I need.”

“Haven’t you tried that for the last seven years, Ron?” Hermione asked, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

“Yeah, but this time it’ll work.”

“How can you tell?”

“Because I believe it!” He threw his hands in the air, then clasped them together and rose to his feet, grinning brightly at the thought of Blaise drinking his blood.

“Baby, I think your friend’s gone bonkers,” Pansy whispered.

“That’s what you Slytherins do to us, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, you think so?” Pansy purred. “You know what else we can do to you guys?”

At that, Ron decided to stop daydreaming and get out of the room to step into the dimly lit corridor because he knew what was going to happen the second Pansy put that tone on. 

The same thing Ron had wanted for years with Blaise. To want somebody so much that it made other people uncomfortable enough to leave the room.

It was frustrating to see all of his friends find their vampires. Sure, he was happy for them, but it was his turn to be happy too, so why hadn’t it happened yet?

He had tried—so fucking hard—to make himself inviting to vampires, but they didn’t want him back then. Now, he had come to a point where he only wanted one vampire to drink his blood. It was a shame that said vampire didn’t want him.

What was wrong with him?

Ron shook his head, shrugging the bad thought off him. His friends had reminded him many times he should not think like that. Blaise was just—specific. He wasn’t sure what was so fucking specific about it. It wasn’t like Blaise didn’t drink blood from other Gryffindor students. He wasn’t picky like that. And it wasn’t like he disregarded Muggleborn or Half-blood either.

He had thought it was about his family. Because some Slytherins still called them blood traitors. But that wasn’t true because Blaise did drink from Ernie Macmillan once. It made Ron incredibly jealous, but, well, he was jealous with everyone who was with Blaise already. His heart was green like that.

No matter what he did—which included teaming himself with Blaise in classes, pretending to bump into him in the hallway, and occasionally chatting Blaise up because they had the same circle of friends—Blaise did not pay any attention to him.

No “Can I drink your blood?” or not even a “Your blood smells delightful.” He had never once commented on Ron’s blood or made any kind of suggestion to have Ron as his dinner. Merlin, he would be such a good dinner for Blaise if he let him.

He groaned, rubbing his hand over his face and distracting himself with other thoughts just to get his body to relax. If he kept thinking about Blaise, he knew what would happen next. Every single time.

Ron had meant to take a turn to go back to his dorm, but the two shadows in the dark alcove caught his eyes. He squinted, cocking his head to the side to watch the taller figure towering over the other person and cornering them into the wall.

His mouth fell open in shock when he realised it was Blaise. Fuck. It had to be him. 

He was just there, covering almost all of the other bloke with his broad shoulders. Blaise leaned down and said bloke turned his head, exposing his neck.

Just when he thought this night could not get better, it got positively worse positively fast when he witnessed his vampire sink his teeth into another guy. 

The sight made his chest ache, but Ron inhaled sharply and kept his eyes on them. Blaise was standing still, almost like a statue, while the bloke seemed to have a fun ride as he moaned. Loudly, too, like he forgot they were still in the school corridor. 

His grabby hands tugged at Blaise’s robes, legs giving out, and if it wasn’t for Blaise steadying him, the guy would have undoubtedly fallen to the ground. Blaise didn’t move much, and only when he was done with dinner did he pull away from his neck, leaving the guy sliding against the wall to sag on the floor. 

He murmured something, fixing the sleeves of his robes, and left. The other guy, a Hufflepuff, only waved at him and gave Blaise a dazed smile, all the while Blaise had already walked away. 

And headed Ron’s direction.

Shit.

Ron wanted to flee. He really wanted to, but his feet were frozen on the ground as Blaise walked towards him.

“Hey!” he said weakly, stuttering as Blaise’s eyes finally cut to him. “How—how are you?”

“Is there anything else you want to say?” Blaise said. His fangs had already retracted, and there was no trace of blood on his lips. It was like he hadn’t even eaten at all. 

“No, well, I, er, how’s dinner? Or late dinner, I guess?” 

“Is that what you wanted to ask of me?”

“Yeah?”

Blaise’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, and he said, “Adequate.”

Adequate. That was good. For Ron, at least.

“Sorry about that. Maybe you can drink me too, if you want?” he asked, putting on a brave face. He cocked his head to the side, pushing his robe away to show Blaise the side of his neck. He rubbed his hand over it seductively. He thought so, at least. “I ate a lot of red meat tonight. Lots of iron. It’ll make my blood taste good, I guarantee! What do you say?”

Please say yes. God, please!

Dark brown eyes regarded him, and Blaise’s nostrils flared slightly when he inhaled. Then, the corner of his lips pursed up to form a sneer.

“I’m full,” Blaise said, and she walked past Ron.

Swallowing down the rejection, Ron turned around and called after Blaise. 

“Maybe next time? I’ll be here! With tasty blood!”

Watching as Blaise slowly disappeared from him, Ron’s smile faded and his shoulders sagged. Even after years, he still got a little bit of ache in his heart whenever Blaise declined his offer. 

Step one was moping over it, the next one was doubting himself, and the one after that was getting his confidence back only to fall back to step one again. 

At some point, Ron had to stop savouring and expecting his first time to be that special and stop chasing after a vampire who didn’t want him back. Maybe he should stop.

Just until after his nineteenth birthday.

*

Pansy was talking to Blaise.

She was sitting just a few desks away from Ron, head ducked low, while Professor Binns was talking about something that no student was listening to. Maybe except for Hermione. And Draco. Those two competitive nerds.

Ron was focused on Pansy’s conversation with Blaise more. He wished he was good at lip-reading, or mind-reading, if he was being honest. He could try to ask Draco, but the guy was too busy listening to Mr. Binns while playing footsie with Harry from under the table. 

Pansy’s lips were still moving, constantly whispering things to Blaise, but as always, Blaise seemed unaffected by it as he continued writing down in his notebook. When Pansy finally stopped, Blaise looked at her and said something back.

Then, he turned his head and looked over at Ron.

With a gasp, Ron whirled around and ducked his head to look at his book. Merlin’s balls—that was scary. He wondered if Blaise could smell his panic from way over there. Maybe he could.

“What’s wrong with you?” 

Ron lifted his head up, meeting Theo’s curious gaze. He swallowed and said, “Er, nothing.”

Theo narrowed his eyes, unconvinced. “I’d be a better liar if I were you. Pansy finally talked to Blaise about you, huh?”

“What?” Ron squawked. “How did you know?”

“She tells us everything before she tells Blaise.” Theo shrugged. “He’s very scary, you see.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

Theo flashed him a smile, glancing over his shoulder to probably look at Blaise. He murmured, “Blaise is, well, very specific.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” He heaved a sighed. “How will I get him to drink my blood?”

“You want my advice?”

“Yeah!”

“Wow, this is big,” Theo said. “You’ve come to Draco and Pansy before, but never to me, which I find a little offended by, by the way.” Ron grinned guiltily, and Theo continued. “But, I shall take this chance to pass my wisdom onto you!”

“Okay!”

“You should do what Nev and I did. Well, what Nev did, more like.”

“What did he do?”

Theo lowered his voice and whispered, “Bleed.”

“What?” Ron gasped, then slapped a hand over his mouth. He looked over at Neville, who was sitting next to Theo and blushing visibly there. “Seriously?”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Neville reasoned. “I swear. I was in the Green House, taking care of a Fanged Geranium, which, of course, is known for their fangs. But then Theo walked in, and I, er, I got a bit distracted.”

“By my transcendent beauty, obviously,” Theo said confidently, and Ron smiled. 

“And while I was, er, rather focused on Theo, Lilah bit me.”

Ron furrowed his eyebrows. “The plant?”

“Yeah, she’s feisty. So I started bleeding. A lot. Theo smelled it, and I guess the rest was history.”

“That’s it?” Ron said. “You got attracted to his blood and chose him as your mate?”

“Yeah! Trust me, I’ve smelled many types of blood before from my exes. They’ve even done the same thing. But on purpose, I might add. Neville’s blood was the first one that I actually wanted to, well, taste.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. He tastes like heaven,” Theo said, humming softly, and Neville smiled.

“Your kisses are like heaven too.”

“Yeah? Well, you fuck me like a god, baby.”

At that, Neville blushed even redder, and Ron was almost jealous of it. They were so happy together. He wished he had that with Blaise.

Theo leaned over and pressed a kiss to Neville’s cheek, intertwining their hands together before he turned to Ron.

“If you want, I can stab you.”

“What?”

“Theo!” Neville hissed quietly, eyes widening in worry.

“What? Just a small stab with the quill!” Theo said. “I can heal it afterwards. It’ll probably just be one drop of blood! And you can go to Blaise and faint in his arms, and he’ll suck you dry!”

Ron blinked, chewing on his lower lip at the tempting image Theo had drawn up, and Neville seemed to have already read his mind as he said, “Ron, you don’t have to do it. It’s very drastic.”

“Seems like he needs it, though. Haven’t you seen him for the last seven years, baby? He’s been trying so hard. He deserves to find his vampire too, like how we found each other, right?” Theo said, pouting, and for some reason, it really worked on Neville. 

Neville’s eyes softened, and he said, “I’m sure there are other ways to help him.”

“Be that as it may, it’s still one of the options.” Theo smiled at him, sending him a wink. “What do you say? A little stabby stab on your finger like that Muggle princess?”

“Sleeping Beauty,” said Neville.

“The very one.”

With his teeth caught between his lips, Ron found himself considering Theo’s suggestion. It was crazy, sure, but something that was within his capabilities. Besides, it wasn’t like he couldn’t heal himself or have someone heal it for him. If worst came to worst, he could always attract another vampire with his blood, and that might be just fine at this point.

His mind was a mess, and by the time class ended, Ron was still thinking about it. It wasn’t until he turned around and saw a bloke coming up to Blaise with his collar open and a big smile on his face did Ron make a decision. 

It was out of pure jealousy, but well, that wouldn’t be the first time.

“Stab me!” Ron hissed under his breath, grabbing Theo by the wrist just as the Slytheirn rose to his feet. 

“What?”

“What?” Neville said, eyes widening. “Ron—”

“Stab me, Theo. Now.” He pushed the quill into Theo’s hand, squeezing his grip around Theo’s slim wrist. “I’m serious. Do it. I want you to, before that guy gets Blaise—Merlin’s balls on a stick!” 

Ron nearly howled in pain as Theo jabbed the sharp quill into his hand. He gasped, mouth falling open when he looked at the quill, now poking out of his hand. Theo quickly pulled it away, and Ron bit back a pained cry.

His heart raced at the sight of blood. 

“Go! Get your vampire!” Theo said, and Ron snapped back to himself before he turned around and strolled to the door, where Hermione had joined Pansy and Blaise to leave the class.

“Hermione! Hermione!” he said in a panic, because he was not aware of how painful it would be to be stabbed. This was why he should think things through more clearly. “Hermione, wait!” 

Once he reached his friends, Ron jumped in front of them, blocking the three from their path and holding up his hand.

“I’m bleeding!” 

“Ron, what the fuck?” Pansy said.

“What happened?” Hermione said, worries filling her expression as she grabbed his hand. 

Listening to what Theo had said, and with a little encouragement from him too, Ron pretended to wobble on his feet, stumbling into Blaise’s chest. Like he expected, Blaise steadied him with his hands on Ron’s shoulders, not without rolling his eyes, though. Okay, so maybe Ron wasn’t that good at acting.

“It was an accident, I didn’t—” Ron said, his voice breathy. He held up his hand, waving it before Blaise. “Merlin, I think I’m going to faint.”

“Then perhaps you should have headed to the hospital wing,” Blaise said, and Ron looked up at him. He swallowed. “Instead of flaunting your blood here simply to attract vampires. Are you truly that desperate?”

Something tugged in Ron’s chest, and he frowned, looking down just as Blaise took a step back to walk past him. Next to him, Pansy clicked her tongue and sighed.

“I have to talk to him. Will you be okay here, darling?”

“I’m okay,” Ron murmured.

Pansy stared at him. “I’m actually talking to my darling, Ron, if you don’t mind,” she said, and Hermione snorted. “I know you’ll be okay. It’s just a small wound from Theo’s stabbing.”

“What? How did you know?”

“Theo’s resort to everything is stabbing. You should have seen how he got rid of his last boyfriend before Neville,” Pansy said, and Ron blinked at her. “Can you heal him, baby?”

“I can. It really is small.”

“Okay, but just to be sure, you can also bring him to the hospital wing. I’ll catch you later, okay?” 

Pansy smiled, reaching out to kiss Hermione on her head before rushing away in the direction Blaise had disappeared into, leaving Ron standing dumfounded and Hermione looking a little too giddily than usual.

“Hermione!” Ron said, snapping his fingers at her, and Hermione finally looked at him. “I’m still bleeding here.”

“Oh, right, sorry.” She huffed out a chuckle and shook her head, taking his hand into her palm. “I can’t believe you stabbed yourself to get Blaise’s attention, Ron.”

“I didn’t.”

“Ron.”

“Well,” he stuttered. “I didn’t stab myself. Theo stabbed me.”

“Does that really make it better?”

“Not when you ask me in that tone.” He frowned and said, “I just thought it would work.”

“If he’s supposed to be your vampire, then it would have worked long ago,” she said, waving her wand over his palm. He felt her magic tingling through him, closing the tiny hole right up. 

“Maybe the time’s not right yet,” was all he could say, because after years, a part of him was already convinced Hermione was right.

Most of the time, she definitely was. He just kind of hoped she could be wrong this time. And, well, hope was a deadly thing for a desperate boy like him to have.

*

Ron groaned, his body slouching into the couch. He flapped his arms on the cushion, letting out another low groan. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, his legs were spread like an eagle, and his stomach was filled with annoyance. He groaned again. 

“My god, Ron,” Draco said, looking up at him from his spot near the fireplace. “Can you mope somewhere else? Or mope a little quieter, please? I’m trying to beat my boyfriend’s arse here.”

“Hey, I think you got it the other way around,” Harry said, moving his knight forward. “I own your arse, sweetheart.”

“Actually, you’re going to lose in five moves, Harry.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Ron murmured, head lolling to the side on the back of the couch. “Draco is, in fact, beating your arse.”

“Hah! See, Potter?”

“Well, whatever, I’m getting your arse later tonight,” Harry said, and Draco’s pale cheeks immediately turned coral at his words. 

Ron groaned again.

“Salazar, if you make that noise one more time,” Draco said, inhaling deeply. “Ron, it is not a big deal.”

“You don’t know that! He hates my blood!” he said, flapping his hands on the couch. “He hates it! He hates it!”

“He doesn’t hate it, Ron,” Harry said softly. “Maybe he just has a specific—”

“Taste! I know! I’m getting sick of people saying that! What’s wrong with my blood?” Ron asked, jerking his head up to look at his friends. “What’s wrong? Is it, like, repulsive? Does it smell bad? Does it taste bad? What’s wrong with it?”

“Ron, I swear, your blood smells fine.”

“While I can’t speak for its taste,” Draco said, “it truly does smell fine, Ron. Both Harry and I agree on that.”

“So why doesn’t he want it?”

Draco pressed his lips together, exhaling softly. “Because Blaise is a prick,” he said, and Ron scoffed. “He is. He’s, well, yes, he’s our friend, and we’re sort of pricks anyway, so I guess it really does run in the group. But, listen, about Blaise, it took some time for him to do this.”

“What do you mean? He drinks blood all the time.”

“No, I mean, when he first wanted to drink blood,” Draco said. “For most of us, it comes very easily—the urge to drink blood. Like Theo, he loves it. But for others, some may get sick from it.”

“Blaise gets sick?”

“No, but he used to have a hard time doing it. He finds it—tiresome. While we love to have our meals every day, Blaise sort of dreaded it back then. Now, he thinks of it as something he does simply to survive. Nothing more, nothing less. He drinks to live. He doesn’t feel any pleasure from it. Not like us. He doesn’t feel good after a meal. He only feels...full.”

As Ron thought about it, Blaise’s voice replayed in his mind. I’m full. So he really did mean it. It wasn’t just a rejection. It was the truth from him.

“Have you ever seen Blaise drink from somebody?” Draco asked, and Ron nodded. “Have you ever seen Harry drinking my blood, or Pansy drinking Hermione’s, or Theo with Neville?”

He narrowed his eyes, images playing in his head. While he did not purposefully want to watch any of that, he saw it frequently. A vampire having a meal was nothing that needed to be in private, unless the vampire wanted to, or if the meal escalated to something else.

With his friends and their mates, the meals were more—intimate. Touchy, and always ended with a kiss. But that was romantic. For other vampires, they only needed to drink the blood. Blaise was the same. Not a touch. Not a kiss. Indifferent. Nothing more.

“Well, if you say it like that,” he mumbled quietly, slouching back against the couch once more. “Does he have a problem with blood itself then?”

“It’s not blood, per se, more like—the act of drinking blood,” Draco answered him curtly. 

“So why does everyone say he’s specific?”

“That’s just because we don’t want to say he’s weird.” The blond snorted. “He’s our friend, and we love him, but if I’m being honest, none of us know why he’s not choosing you, either.”

Just like that, a wave of gloom and confusion settled in the pit of Ron’s stomach. Nobody knew why, and the only person who had the answer refused to tell anyone about it. This was diabolical.

Luckily, his train of thoughts disappeared as soon as the door was opened and Pansy walked in, hand in hand with her girlfriend.

“Pansy!”

“Oh, no.” Pansy turned around, slipping past Hermione to get to the door.

“Pansy! I saw you!”

“Fuck!” Her shoulders sagged, and she turned on her heels to meet his eyes. “Oh, hey, Ron! Didn’t see you there!”

“Yeah, yeah. What did he say?” he asked, and Pansy pressed her lips together, glancing over at her girlfriend as though she were asking for help.

“See, this is why I said we should have stayed in my dorm, but no, you said it was fine; maybe Ron wouldn’t be here. But he is.”

Hermione smiled. “I didn’t know, honestly. Usually, he would be in his dorm right now, beating Harry’s arse in chess.”

“Hey!” 

“She’s right, darling,” Draco chimed in, and Harry frowned. “And we were, but then Theo visited.”

“Oh!” Hermione said, because that was all she needed to reply. Of course, whenever Theo was there, they either had to leave, or they could stay and watch Neville and Theo do things. Theo didn’t mind, like, at all.

“Pansy?”

“Right,” she said, exhaling deeply before she flopped down on the couch next to Ron. “Listen, darling—”

“Oh, god, it’s bad, isn’t it?” Ron said. “You always say ‘listen, darling’ whenever you are about to deliver bad news. Like that time you told me the pudding had gone bad after I already ate it.”

“Well, who told you to eat that? It obviously looked bad!”

“I don’t know! Just tell me what Blaise said!”

“He said no!”

Just like that, something dropped in Ron’s chest. He said quietly, “What?”

Pansy breathed out, her eyes softening. “He said no, darling.”

“What does that mean? Does he not want me?”

“Okay, that’s not what I said, or he said, for that matter. He just said no.”

“What do you mean?”

“My god, Ron.” Pansy clicked her tongue and said, “I asked if he had any new prey lately, and he said no. He’s just been drinking from the people he’d been with before. Some did come to him willingly, though, and he also went with them, so I asked him if he wanted to find a fresh, untouched one—”

“And?”

“He asked who, and I said, obviously, you.”

“And he said he doesn’t want me?”

“No. He said no, Ron,” Pansy said. “Just a ‘no,’ that’s it.”

“But why?”

“Was exactly what I asked him after his answer, but all he told me was that he didn’t have to give me—or you—the reason why, because he knew I was only asking him that because you told me to.”

Ron paled, staring with wide eyes at Pansy. “Merlin, he knows.”

“Of course he knows.” Draco scoffed. “You’re not really the master at acting here, Ron. You’ve been mooning over him for eight years. If he hadn’t caught on, he might be a little stupid.”

“It took Harry seven years to find out you were into him.” Hermione pointed out.

“I know, which is why I still tell him he’s an idiot.”

Harry snorted. “Your idiot, though, so I guess that says a lot about your type.”

Even though his cheeks turned slightly pink, Draco rolled his eyes. Then he turned to Pansy and said, “What happened after that?”

“Well, I was going to keep pestering him about it, but then Mister Stabby here ran to us with a bloody hand, so that opportunity was out of the window.”

“She tried again earlier,” Hermione said. “It doesn’t seem like he hates you or your blood, Ron. He just—”

“Hates drinking blood?”

“Sort of, yeah.”

“Now you tell me,” Ron muttered under his breath. “The only vampire I want doesn’t even like blood. I’m cursed!”

“You’re not cursed, Ron. Don’t be dramatic.”

“I’m not dramatic! Why doesn’t he want me? Why does he keep picking random people to drink blood from and not me? I’m willing!”

“You can always keep going,” Harry said helpfully. “I mean, it took me a long time to get Draco to be mine.”

“That’s only because he was playing hard to get,” Pansy said. “Although I don’t know why he did. He’s wanted you since First Year.”

“It’s called class, Pansy. You wouldn’t know it.”

“We’re talking about class? Then let’s talk about the one who fucked in the train compartment last summer.”

“Who told you?” Draco squawked. “It’s Theo, isn’t it?”

“Please, your face practically glows after a fuck.”

“Whatever, he’s my mate. I can glow,” Draco said nonchalantly, while Harry was sitting right in front of him with his eyes nearly turning into hearts. He looked like he was about to jump on Draco, too. “And Harry does have a point. There’s no reason Ron should give up.”

“He’s been doing this for eight years, Draco.”

“And it’s pathetic, yeah.”

“Hey!” Ron protested weakly, but Draco held a hand up, and he closed his mouth.

“But Harry and I were the same. Hell, it took us seven years,” he said. “Maybe Ron can try a little more.”

“And then he can decide when to give up,” Hermione said.

“Actually, I already decided that.”

“What?” 

Ron blinked at the surprise painting his friends’ faces. Were they that shocked?

“What? I already did.”

“When?”

“Until my birthday,” Ron said, “it’s only hours away. By this time tomorrow, I’d have already given up on him. I can settle with another vampire. I mean, you have friends who are willing, right?”

“Well, yeah, but.” Pansy trailed off, blinking at him. “Sorry, I just didn’t expect you to have already decided on this. You will really stop chasing after Blaise tomorrow?”

“Yeah, so I’m putting the rest of my efforts in right now. Just for tonight. Once I turn nineteen, it’ll all be gone. I promise.”

“That’s—inspiring,” Draco said, humming softly. “What will you do for the time being? Before midnight comes.”

“I don’t know. Try to get his attention like I always have. Time is limited now.” He shrugged. “What was Blaise doing earlier, Pansy?”

“Reading. He’s probably going to have his late snack right now.”

“What? He’s going to find someone now?”

“Yeah. He told us that before we left,” Hermione said, and Ron sprung up from the couch.

“And you didn’t tell him to find me?” 

“After your stabby incident? I couldn’t, darling.”

“You could have told me!” he said, throwing his hands in the air and marching to the door.

“Ron, where are you going?” 

“To get what I want!” 

Ron stalked out of the Common Room, the portrait closing in behind him, and he found himself wandering down the hallway with a purpose.

To find Blaise Zabini and make him drink his blood.

After the first ten minutes, Ron was still determined as he strolled around every corridor possible to find Blaise. Another ten minutes, his feet were getting sore, but his will was still alive and breathing. Another ten minutes, and Ron was cursing at Blaise under his breath.

“Stupid prick,” he murmured. “Who does he think he is? Like he has a choice whose blood he drinks.”

He did have a choice, but, well, why wouldn’t it be Ron? Even after all the explanations his friends gave, he remained clueless as to why Blaise wouldn’t pick him. He understood that Blaise didn’t particularly love drinking blood even as a vampire, but if he was going to pick anyone just to get it over it, it could be Ron.

Ron groaned, running his hand through his hair in frustration and stopping abruptly when Blaise appeared in his line of sight. Finally!

The problem was he wasn’t alone. No. He was walking away to the dark alcove ahead with a boy in Gryffindor robes.

Fucking Gryffindors? When Ron was right here? Unbelievable.

With his hands balled into fists and his jealousy boiling inside him, Ron stalked forward with not a single thought in his mind except getting Blaise to himself. It was almost midnight. This was his last chance. He had to go hard, or he would have to go home this summer alone. Again!

“What is going on?” Ron said loudly once he caught up with Blaise and the other guy, and they turned around to look at him. “What are you doing?”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Don’t pardon me. Are you seriously going out to drink from another person when I’m right here?” he said, hands placed on his hips. “Your boyfriend?”

“Excuse me?”

“You have a boyfriend?” the guy asked, turning to Blaise. “You didn’t tell me about him.”

“That is because—”

“Oh, so now you’re denying it.” He let out a scoff. “Wow, you have got some nerves, Blaise. So all those times you said you loved me, that wasn’t true, huh? Was just a lie to get your fangs in my neck? And the night before my birthday too?”

“Oh, my god. It’s your birthday tomorrow?”

“Whatever you’re doing, Weasley—”

“Back to Weasley? When you were just calling me your darling hours ago?” Ron said. “You are a real piece of work. I can’t believe I ever gave my virginity to you just for you to betray me like this. And don’t think I didn’t know about the other times you did this behind my back too.”

Blaise widened his eyes, staring at him, quiet, and the guy next to him finally shifted on his feet.

“I didn’t know you already had a mate,” he said, eyes flitting to Ron. “Sorry. I didn’t know. Really. I’d have never—”

“It just hurts so bad!” Ron exclaimed, hand on his chest, as he looked up at the ceiling, forcing tears out of his eyes and making his hands tremble.

“I—I’m so sorry. I have to go. Sorry.”

Ron kept his position there as the guy shuffled away, and he didn’t move until he was sure that Gryffindor was gone. Then he looked back at Blaise to see brown eyes already piercing through him. 

“That was something,” Blaise said. “Don’t you think it’s enough?”

“What’s enough?”

“Being this desperate to have my fangs in your neck. Wasn’t the last seven years enough?”

“Oh, so you admit you knew about my attempts.”

“I could be dead, and I’d still know about your evident attempts,” he said. “I didn’t want to say anything, but I did not expect you to go as far as to chase my dinner away. I must say, I do admire your persistency.”

“Well, if you like it, you can have me. I’m actually the only choice you have now,” Ron said confidently.

His heart couldn’t help but waver a little when Blaise scoffed and walked past him, though. He turned around, shoulders tensing up.

“I’ll keep doing it!” he yelled, and Blaise turned around to look at him. “I’ll keep doing it until you choose me.” Which was a lie, but Blaise didn’t have to know about it. “I didn’t want it to come to this, but you forced my hand, Blaise. I had to do it this way. It’s the only way for you to choose me. So unless you drink my blood, I’ll keep interrupting your meal and chase off every potential prey you have until there’s no one left for you. Eventually, you will have to use me.”

He breathed out sharply, holding Blaise’s calm and fixed gaze with his own persistent one.

“Are you that keen on letting me drink your blood?”

“Seven years wasn’t enough proof for you?”

Blaise sneered. “You are truly desperate.”

“Yes, I am! So do it,” Ron said, stepping forward to shove at Blaise’s chest with his hand. “Do it. Put your fangs in me. Suck me dry. Do it!” Another shove. “Come on. Do it now! Unless you’re a coward and you’re afraid of hurting me! Do it, you egoistical prick—”

Ron gasped, feeling like his breath was punched out of his chest when Blaise grabbed him by both wrists and yanked him closer. His fangs appeared, and an instant spark began in the pit of his stomach. 

“Do you think pissing me off is the best way to do this?”

“I don’t know, but I’m a little desperate, so I’ll do anything,” he murmured. “What? Are you gonna back out? So much for a vampire.”

When Ron heard a low hiss, his stomach tingled. Blaise shoved him backwards, and he stumbled on his feet until his back hit the wall of the alcove behind him. 

“If you want me to drink your blood that badly, then I should give you exactly that,” Blaise said, and Ron’s insides began screaming. 

“Unless you want me threatening your prey next time. And the time after that. And the time after that too.”

“You are more cunning than I thought, Weasley. Are you sure you don’t have any Slytherin in you?”

“I could have a Slytherin in me.” 

Blaise’s sneer turned into a small smirk, and Ron’s breath hitched, his throat bobbing underneath Blaise’s cold palm on his neck. 

“I will grant you your wish, since you are so desperate for it, but we will only do it once. We are not mates. You are never going to bother me again after this. Do you understand?”

Ron stared at him. As much as he liked to be Blaise’s mate, one time might just be enough to satisfy his curiosity, to end that crush he had had for so long, to give himself some peace. Even if Ron might have wished for more, he could settle for what Blaise asked of him now. It was okay. He would be fine with that.

“Okay,” Ron said, nodding. “One time. It’s a deal.”

With their eyes locked with each other, Ron’s body was trembling, inside and out. His heart was racing, and he was pretty sure he had started sweating, especially when Blaise’s hand on his neck slipped around his nape to grab a handful of his hair.

His mouth parted, and Blaise broke the eye contact to lower his head. Here it was, the moment he had been waiting for for almost eight years. 

His stomach was coiling with fire. He balled his hands into fists, fingernails digging into his own skin as he waited. It was so close. Blaise was quiet, a hand on his waist while his other hand remained in Ron’s hair. 

He tilted his head to the side, giving Blaise better access as he set his gaze on the rows of windows along the corridor. He wanted to touch Blaise, but he refrained from it. It was hard when Blaise was this close to him, smelling like the cologne he always used that Ron loved so much. 

He felt Blaise inhaling the veins running down his neck, his lips ghosting over his throat, and the first graze of the tips of Blaise’s fangs against his skin had him shivering. 

When they pressed into him, deep enough to break skin, Ron’s mouth fell open, and a broken noise left him. He choked on his own breath, crying out in pain when the fangs sank into his flesh. He felt his own blood rushing inside him, ringing in his ears and coursing through every inch of his body. His body felt like it was on fire.

He let out a moan, sagging back against the wall with his hands flattened on the surface. The hand in his hair tightened, and Ron whined, arching against Blaise while his toes curled inside his slippers.

The hand on his hips moved up and down his flanks, and Ron didn’t notice it until it reached his lower back and pushed him flushed against Blaise’s body. 

“Oh, god, Blaise,” Ron said, his voice high-pitched and needy as he threw his head back. He couldn’t help but grab Blaise’s shoulders and tug at his robes. “Fuck, that feels—”

To say it was heavenly wouldn’t be an exaggeration. The longer Blaise drank from him, with his canines deep inside Ron, the more heat he felt inside him. He knew he was hard, and Blaise probably knew it too. 

He didn’t expect Blaise to kick a knee between his legs and press his thigh against his crotch, though. Ron let out a pitiful moan, gripping Blaise’s robes tighter and rolling his hips.

Blaise’s hand moved from his lower back to his backside, and that was when Ron’s eyes widened, gasping when Blaise kneaded the flesh there.

“Oh, god, don’t stop!” Ron said breathlessly. “Please, Blaise—”

The rest of his sentence dissipated as Blaise pulled away from his neck to lick and nip at the wound. For a second there, he even felt a ghost of Blaise’s lips against his skin. He whined at the loss; eyes dazed when Blaise lifted his head to look at him, pupils blown wide. Ron’s blood was still dripping from his fangs. That was incredibly hot.

Before Ron could say anything, the hand in his hair loosened, and Blaise was already leaning closer to him. Holy fuck.

“May I…” Blaise said quietly, his breath ghosting over Ron’s parted lips. To Ron, he even sounded a little breathless himself.

He didn’t have to say anything for Ron to meet him halfway for a kiss. Ron threw his arms around Blaise’s neck, gasping into the kiss and allowing Blaise to immediately explore the inside of his mouth. He had been longing for that for years too, and it had met every expectation of his and more. 

Blaise kissed like the way he drank Ron’s blood, full of heat and passion, like he wanted to eat Ron alive. And, fuck, Blaise’s lips against his, his tongue inside his mouth—that might even be better than Blaise’s fangs in his neck. They all felt so good, Ron might as well explode from the pure bliss alone.

He tasted his own blood on Blaise’s tongue, moaning into his mouth when Blaise moved his hands under his sweater. Blaise’s hands were cold on his heated skin, travelling north until they brushed over Ron’s chest. 

There was nothing else Ron could do beside letting out a little helpless whine and arching into the touch. His chest wasn’t usually sensitive, but he guessed Blaise made every fiber in his body sensitive now, like he had already put a claim on him with this. 

His fingers played with Ron’s nipple, rolling and flicking until it turned stiff and responsive to his touch. Ron bucked into Blaise, rocking his hips against his thigh faster. He was close.

Which was why it was so frustrating when Blaise pulled away again. He whined, keeping his arms locked around Blaise’s neck as their eyes met.

“Why did you stop?” He breathed heavily, pouting, and Blaise tilted his chin up, eyebrows furrowing as he looked at Ron.

“What is in your blood?” Blaise said, and his voice was a little hoarse. 

“Oh, I take good care of it!” Ron said, grinning widely. “I told you I eat a lot of healthy food. They’re all good for my blood.”

“I can see that.” He cocked his head to the side, brushing his thumb over Ron’s chin as his eyes roamed over his face and neck. “May I do it again?” 

“Again? The, er, drinking?” He blinked. “Are you still hungry?”

“I—” He paused, and for the first time, Ron got to witness a stuttering Blaise Zabini. It was an odd sight. “Usually, I wouldn’t be. However, you—there has to be something in your blood. Did you inject yourself with something?”

“No. All good and natural. Mum said it’s the best way to find a vampire mate!” 

His eyebrows furrowed, and he said, “Is that so?”

“Yeah, I mean, you can drink more, but didn’t you say it was a one-time thing?”

Blaise looked at him, unblinking. He looked away. “Right. Of course. I did say that.”

“I’m kidding! God, you should see the look on your face. Anyone would have thought you wanted me so badly.” Ron let out a snort, hauling Blaise closer with his arms around him. “You can have me anytime you want. I’ve made that clear for the past seven years, haven’t I? Unless you don’t want to.”

Brown eyes continued staring into his soul. His hand caressed the side of Ron’s face.

“If you’d let me,” was all he said.

“I would, Blaise. I would,” he said, cocking his head to the other side and pushing down the collar of his sweater. He smiled. “Why don’t you taste me a little bit more? Take as much as you want. I’m all yours.”

Just like that, Blaise’s fangs reappeared. He even let out a low growl before he ducked his head and sank his teeth right into Ron’s neck again, and Merlin, it was so bloody good. He might have even let out a needy whine at the breach of skin, but it seemed to rile Blaise on as he felt rough hands sliding along his body, exploring all that he could reach. 

Ron took a deep breath, gasping for air and spreading his legs to feel Blaise’s thigh against his groin. He rocked his hips and rode his leg, tugging at his robes like a desperate bloke who was trying to come in his trousers like a teenager. Well, all of those things were true, but admitting it made Ron hot all over. He seemed to just be down that insanely for Blaise.

Although it felt like Blaise was experiencing the same, with his hands travelling Ron’s body, playing with his chest, and pushing him closer. Just to make sure what he suspected was right, he reached a hand down to touch Blaise by the crotch. Blaise growled into his neck, fangs sinking deeper, and Ron moaned. 

Blaise was hard. So hard that Ron could feel the shape and the weight of his cock in his palm. My fucking god, he was big. Merlin’s balls! It couldn’t be possible for someone to be that huge down there. What the fuck?

“Oh god, I don’t think that will fit,” Ron murmured to himself, running his hands along the length from outside of Blaise’s trousers, stroking it from base to tip, as much as he could through the layer of fabric. It was heavy, twitching against his touch at the same time Blaise sucked him harder. “But I want it so much. Want you inside me, Blaise.”

The hands on his arse tightened, squeezing the meat and drawing more incoherent noises out of him until it was a little too much for Ron to handle. He felt fingers between his cheeks, sliding down south, and when they touched his eager entrance, Ron arched into Blaise’s chest, broken moans slipping from his mouth when Blaise rubbed at his hole and his perineum at the same time.

Feeling overstimulated all over, Ron cried out, bucking forward against Blaise’s thigh as the wave of ecstasy crashed into him like a powerful spell. It coursed through his entire body, making him wet all over and nearly drowning him in it.

As embarrassed as it was, Ron did come in his trousers, with Blaise’s hands on his arse and his fangs buried deep in his neck. Adrenaline rushed through him, and Ron stroked Blaise faster, feeling the exact moment that Blaise groaned into his skin and jerked into his hand, his hips stuttering as he relieved himself. From Ron’s hand.

Blaise got off of Ron’s hand alone. And, well, with Ron’s blood, but regardless, it meant something. Blaise Zabini had always seemed so unaffected with his meals, and now he was in this state because of him. Because of Ron! 

This might just be the best birthday ever.

Ron slouched against the wall when he came to himself, breathing heavily. He made a little noise when Blaise withdrew his fangs from his neck and licked the skin again. This time he really felt Blaise’s lips on his neck, leaving a trail of kisses along his throat until their lips met, and Ron could not resist Blaise’s kisses; he really didn’t want to.

He slid his hands up Blaise’s sternum, feeling his steady chest and his racing heartbeat. Blaise’s heart was racing for him, all the while his tongue was devouring the inside of Ron’s mouth.

“Blaise—” Ron paused, only because Blaise was kissing him again, barely letting him breathe for a second. “Are you—” Another kiss, and Ron cupped his face. “Full?”

He pushed Blaise’s face away, even if his body was heavily against it. Keeping Blaise away after wanting him so much after years? Mind boggling, indeed.

“No,” Blaise said. “Not with you.”

“Oh.” He blinked, licking his lower lip. Blaise’s gaze dropped to his lips before they met his eyes again. “Do you want more?”

Blaise shook his head, sliding his hand around Ron’s nape. “No. More and you will be exhausted. This was already too much for you. I shouldn’t have done it the second time.”

“It’s okay. I feel fine.”

Another shake of his head. “I don’t want more from you. Not now. I don’t want to—”

Ron raised his eyebrows, waiting for Blaise to finish his sentence. “Want to?”

“Hurt you,” Blaise said quietly. “It’s strange.”

“Bad strange?”

“No. I have never….” He breathed out deeply. “Felt this insatiable after a meal before. They had all been so—bleak.”

“Does that mean you like my blood?”

“Not just your blood, as it seems.” 

Ron gulped. With Blaise’s intense gaze on him, he hoped he wasn’t blushing. “Oh, well, does that also mean this is not a one-time thing?”

“I apologised for having said that.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know how good my blood was, which I have tried telling you for the past years.”

A smile painted Blaise’s lips, and it made Ron’s heart tingle with glee. “I should have listened. I apologised again.”

“For what?”

“For treating you that way.”

Ron shrugged. “It did hurt me,” he murmured, looking up at Blaise. “You were really mean.”

“I’m sorry,” Blaise said. “I’d like to make it up to you, if you’d let me.”

“How would you do that?”

Blaise looked over his shoulder, his hand gliding down to grab Ron’s hand and intertwine their fingers together. He said, “We should go.”

“Wait, what?” Ron said, padding after Blaise as they walked down the corridor. “Where are we going?”

Blaise looked over his shoulder and said, “I’d like to start doing things right with you. You said it was your birthday tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Would you like to have an early birthday gift?”

Ron’s eyes widened, and he breathed out sharply, his stomach already heating up again after what had just happened. He smiled, all teeth.

“God, yes!”

*

When Ron wished to have a vampire mate, he didn’t know it was going to be this difficult.

Ron groaned, rolling over onto his back and stretching his limbs on the bed. His back hurt. His muscles hurt. And most of all, his arse hurt. 

Right, aside from losing his neck virginity, Ron had also lost his real virginity. Multiple times. If they kept this up, his arse would remember the shape of Blaise’s cock soon. 

The sex was great, though. Hell, it was the best he had ever had, but since he was a virgin, he guessed it was the only sex he had ever had. Even so, Blaise had been rumoured to be incredible in bed, so Ron was sort of glad he had finally gotten the man of his dreams. 

They hadn’t meant to fuck, truly. Blaise spent hours on Ron in the beginning, worshipping every inch of his body, bringing Ron to the edge many times, and getting him off many times as well. But after a while, Ron was frustrated. He wasn’t joking when he said he wanted to feel Blaise inside him.

It was big. Jesus Christ. It was fucking giant. Ron feared for his arse at first, but as soon as the pleasures came, he was sure he was on cloud fucking nine. Blaise knew where to touch him, how to kiss him, and how to thrust in a way that made Ron’s toes curl. 

Ron didn’t expect Blaise to be such a talker in bed too. Not since Theo told him that one time he overheard Blaise with one of his former lovers, and the only one making noises was the boyfriend. They were all convinced Blaise was as quiet as he normally would, even in bed. That wasn’t the case the night before. Blaise had said a lot. Whispered things in his ears, things that made Ron blush and shiver, and close to coming. 

There were a lot of names given to him, too. ‘Darling’ was the first one. Then came ‘love,’ and the one that shocked him the most was ‘amore mio,’ and that one from Blaise made him come. That was all the more reason for Blaise to keep calling him as such.

Everything was still a little new for Ron to wrap his head around. Who would have thought his life was turned around in just a night, simply because he had chosen the most drastic measure of all to get the person he wanted? Well, at least it worked. He had no regrets. Not really.

He glanced down at himself, lifting his legs up to see teeth mark all over his inner thighs. There were some on his chest, one wrapping perfectly around his nipple. Some on his neck, too, obviously, but they were just bruises. For the wounds from Blaise’s fangs, he had already healed them for Ron. His magic felt good running through Ron, just as good as his cock inside him. 

There were bruises left on his body too, from Blaise’s lips, and Ron couldn’t help but smile as he grazed his fingers past those marks. In a way, it felt like Blaise was putting a claim on him to tell people that Ron was his. He was the only one Blaise would mark. 

Ron sighed happily, and a smile crept up on his lips when he felt an arm drape over him, and then a body shifting closer until they were skin to skin. 

Blaise buried his face in Ron’s neck, nuzzling into his skin, and Ron giggled. 

“It tickles, you prick,” Ron said, and Blaise simply let out a low hum into his neck.

“You didn’t complain when I did it yesterday.”

He flushed. “That was different.”

“Different how?”

“I don’t know.”

Blaise smiled into his skin and said, “You should get some more sleep. Then you can have your breakfast, and I’ll have mine.”

Ron let out a snort, brushing his fingers along Blaise’s forearm. “Really? Are you hungry again?”

“Starving.”

He hummed, ghosting his finger over Blaise’s skin. “Are you that desperate?”

“Yes,” Blaise said without hesitation, dragging a surprised gasp out of Ron when he grabbed his hand. Just to intertwine their fingers together, though. “It seems that I am.”

“Because of me?”

“Because of my mate.”

A smile stretched on his lips before it turned into a frown. He smacked Blaise’s chest. “Hey! Aren’t you supposed to ask me to be your mate first? I don’t recall you ever asking me to.”

Blaise lifted his head from Ron’s neck. He said, “Well, after the long seven years you went through and what we did last night, I assumed it was an obvious thing.”

“Obvious, my arse!” He smacked Blaise’s stupid, sturdy chest again, and the Slytherin only smiled. “Ask me properly, you prick! It’s the one thing you have to do right!”

His smile turned into a chuckle, and he nodded. “I apologise, my love,” he said, once again using those names for Ron that made him feel hot in his cheeks. “Will you be my mate?”

With his heart in his throat, Ron found it hard to say that one simple word. It shouldn’t be that hard. He had wanted this for years.

“You won’t be drinking from anybody else?” Because a little more reassurance couldn’t hurt.

“No, I won’t.”

“And you’ll only come to me.”

“I’ll only come in you.”

Ron smacked his hand into Blaise’s chest, drawing another soft laugh from the Slytherin. Who knew a vampire’s laugh could be so warm?

“And to you,” Blaise said, brushing his thumb on Ron’s hand. “I’d do anything for you to be my mate.”

“Sounds like a proposal,” Ron muttered, looking away when Blaise smiled at him. It was odd to see Blaise smile this much, but very flattering that Blaise was only smiling because of him. Because they were together. So, he nodded and smiled back. “Okay. I’ll be your mate. Treat me nicely, or I’ll kick your arse.”

“I’m sure our friends will do that for you as well.” He smiled. “I will treat you nicely, though if I recall correctly, last night, you wanted me to treat you like—”

“That’s different!” Ron covered Blaise’s mouth with his hand, and he knew the prick was smiling from the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “You’re a prick.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, now kiss me.”

He withdrew his hand, and Blaise leaned closer, capturing his lips swiftly in a kiss. It felt nice, and oddly warm to be kissed by Blaise, even if he was a vampire. After all those years, he had finally gotten what he wanted. A vampire. Blaise Zabini as his vampire. And he was his mate. 

Their chests touched, and Ron spread his legs to feel Blaise’s leg between his thighs again under the blanket. Ron moaned, rolling his hips and arching into Blaise’s hand, which was finding his backside again. 

“Happy birthday, Ron,” Blaise said, lips an inch away from Ron’s.

“You’ve said that already. Repeatedly, too, while you pounded my arse just hours ago.”

Blaise smiled, but somehow it seemed almost smug. The prick was gloating.

“Well, can you blame me?” Blaise asked. “It is your birthday; I want to give you what you want. Wasn’t that what you wished for?”

Ron frowned. “I never should have told you about my birthday wishes.”

“Rest assured, they will all come true. All eight wishes. For each birthday.”

“Don’t be a prick. You just want to pound me.”

“Don’t you want me to?” Blaise said, fingers drawing circles on Ron’s lower back, dangerously close to his arse. “I was hoping to give you a proper birthday gift. Again.”

Ron tried to hide his blush, but the heated feeling in his cheeks and the gleam of interest in Blaise’s eyes were telling him that he wasn’t doing a very good job. On the other hand, why should he hide it?

There was this vampire right here on his bed who had fucked him so well that he cried and writhed for the whole night. And he wanted to do that to Ron again! Besides, who was he to say no to his vampire mate?

“Merlin,” Ron murmured, smiling at Blaise, “this is totally the best birthday ever.”

The End