As Harry was coming back to his senses, some time later, feeling a warm hand over his, he thought immediately that it must be his sister. For surely if it had been Alice, it would have felt different.
He, himself, however, felt different. His muscles were taut with tension, almost as if anticipating danger. His lips were dry, his mouth parched, and he really needed to drink something… anything.
He opened his eyes slowly, and had a rather hard time adjusting to the light flooding the room.
“Drink this,” the deep voice that was solely Blake’s suggested softly.
He took the blood that was offered to him in a glass, and did as was told, greedily.
Then looking at the persons in the room, he was surprised to see Alice so close to him.
She was the one holding his hand.
He sniffed the
