Drarry vampfic, part 2/2
Jun. 30th, 2008 09:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
drachenminaTitle: A Matter of Perception
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
drachenmina
Characters: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley
Rating: NC17
Part One
A few cleaning and tidying charms later, Harry walked back to his and Ron's office with a spring in his step and a dinner date for that Friday. Draco had suggested they just go for a drink, but Harry had wanted to do something with a bit more chance of them not just ending up in bed straight away again.
Not that bed was bad - far from it - but he had a sneaking suspicion a proper relationship ought to involve at least some time spent together with all of your clothes on even if neither of you was a girl.
He hummed happily as he straightened his desk and set to work.
"Dunno what you're so bloody cheerful about," muttered Ron grumpily.
********************************************
Draco found himself in a bit of a quandary. Harry had seemed so cutely enthusiastic about taking him to dinner that Draco hadn't had the heart to decline.
But what the hell was he going to do about eating? Once back at the manor, he dug out the leaflet the VI had sent.
It is a common misconception that vampires are unable to eat. However, a vampire is unable to digest solid food, and consequently any food ingested will be spontaneously rejected by the body (i.e. vomited) between half an hour and an hour after ingestion.
To avoid being "caught short" on the way home, it is vitally important to either leave immediately after dessert, or insist on lingering over coffee. You may also wish to consider eating only one course as constant trips to the restaurant facilities may attract unwelcome attention.
Right. Well, it looked as though it was feasible, at any rate.
...............................................................
Draco had insisted he be the one to choose the restaurant. After all, if he was actually going to be eating for once in his unlife, and facing the doubtless unpleasant consequences afterwards, he was damned if he was going to do it for a meal at Pizza Hut, which Potter probably thought was the height of sophistication.
He'd decided on a little French place he'd been to with his parents once or twice. It wasn't his favourite, Réclassé, but he thought it probably wouldn't be wise to go there, where the service would be obsequious and he'd no doubt allow himself to be pressurized into having dessert. This would be his first experiment with solid food since being turned - he didn't want to take too many risks, after all.
Plus, if Potter's table manners turned out to be as appalling as he fully expected, Draco certainly didn't want to be seen with him in a place where he was so well known.
Potter seemed quite impressed enough with La Cuiller D'Or, if not a little uncomfortable.
"Relax, Potter. It's just a restaurant, and we're the ones paying their wages."
His companion grinned sheepishly. It was rather adorable, actually. "Um, if you really want me to relax, you could try calling me Harry."
Draco smiled one of his most charming smiles (another reason to be glad he still had a reflection: it would be a disaster not to be able to practice smiling in front of a mirror). "Of course! And you must call me Draco."
It was really very sweet how Harry, so confident and easy in his dealings with everyone, Draco included, at work, suddenly turned so shy in a social situation.
Or was it just because he was on a date with Draco? That, Draco decided, was even sweeter.
"So, have you told the Weasel where you are tonight? And with whom?"
"Er, no. Not exactly. I told him I was seeing a bloke for dinner. He, um, generally doesn't ask for any further details."
"Well, I should hate to think I'd been responsible for bringing a blush to those freckled cheeks. His complexion's vile enough as it is. Not precisely... comfortable with homosexuality, then, our Weasel?"
Harry smiled. "He's fine, really. I mean, he tries really hard, but you can tell it's, um, hard for him."
"Mmm. If you repeat that word any more, things will be getting rather hard for me too, Harry." Draco smouldered, just a little. He didn't want to overdo things before they'd even ordered, after all.
Harry, he decided, could blush exceedingly prettily.
.....................................
Fortunately it turned out that Potter could be easily dissuaded from ordering a starter. Draco was finding it hard to conceal his impatience to get at his main course. He was going to eat food. Proper food. Solid food. He'd ordered salmon with hollandaise sauce, which had always been a particular favourite of his, and he was salivating at the very thought of it.
Potter, of course, had gone for a large chunk of red meat, the only surprise being that he hadn't asked for it to be well done. In a fit of generosity, Draco had suggested they drink red wine, suited to Potter's choice rather than his own, and he was starting to regret it already. Dammit, he wanted this meal to be perfect.
When the waiter arrived with their order, Draco could barely restrain himself from grabbing his plate out of the man's hands. His hands trembling imperceptibly, he cut a slice of the exquisitely cooked fish and popped it into his mouth. It was...
... nothing like he'd remembered at all. It tasted - dead. Thoroughly flat, dry and flavourless. Draco could have wept. All this anticipation, only to discover he didn't even like solid food any more? He laid down his fork in despair.
"Is yours OK? This is delicious!" Harry enthused, shovelling down his steak as if worried someone would snatch the plate away before he'd finished. Mind you, Draco had heard a rumour or two about those Muggle relatives of Harry's, so he forbore to comment.
"Not awfully hungry, I'm afraid," he said with a sigh. "But you enjoy." He forced a few forkfuls down so it wouldn't look too odd. What an utter waste. He eyed Harry's plate. There was a thin trail of blood spilling from the inside of the steak. "I, ah, couldn't try a bit of yours, could I?" If Mother ever found out about this appalling lapse of manners she'd probably stake him. Fortunately Potter, having been brought up by savages, didn't have a clue Draco had said anything amiss.
"Yeah, course you can. Here you go." He sliced off a generous portion of the steak and transferred it to Draco's plate. "'S good, isn't it?"
"Lovely," Draco lied. Oh, it was better - but all he wanted was his flask of blood, now, and to forget such places as restaurants had ever existed. He took a hefty swig of Merlot.
Standing in a cubicle in the Gents' later, Draco gloomily surveyed the results of his evening meal.
Then he realised abruptly just how gross he was being, and flushed the toilet, performing his strongest Breath-Freshening Charm. Taking out his hip flask, he quickly swallowed his real meal for the evening, and resignedly renewed the charm.
................................
Harry looked a bit tense when Draco returned to the table. Damn! He should have realised he was spending too long in the Gents'. Didn't want Harry to think he'd been getting up to anything in there.
"So, um, where to now?" Harry asked. "I'd invite you back to mine, but, er - "
"Let me guess. It is infested with Weasleys and Weasleys-to-be." Draco smirked. "Fortunately, since leaving Hogwarts, my living arrangements in the Manor have changed somewhat."
"Yeah?"
"Mmm. I have my own wing."
It was rather pleasant, holding on to Harry's arm to Side-Along-Apparate him. Draco purposely took him into the manor gardens - it was a mild, moonlit night, perfect for a walk, as long as they managed not to trip over one of Father's bloody peacocks.
Harry seemed suitably impressed by the scale and beauty of the gardens, if a little inclined to obsess about how many hours a week it must take to keep them in their pristine condition.
"I didn't realise you were a keen gardener, Harry."
"Oh - I'm not." Harry looked a little sheepish. "It's just, I had to do most of the gardening for my aunt and uncle. I can't seem to look at a flowerbed without thinking of all the weeding that has to get done." It was rather sad, really.
"In that case, perhaps we should go inside? Unless you're about to tell me that beds make you think of doing the laundry?"
Harry swallowed. "No, I - I can think of a few other things that have to do with beds."
"Really?" Draco's interest was piqued. "I think we'd better test this out."
Apparating them straight into his far-too-large bedroom, Draco decided to distract Harry from the scale of the place by tackling him to the bed and, slithering down, undoing his jeans and nuzzling his crotch.
It seemed to work rather well.
Taking the rather incoherent sounds Harry was making as encouragement, Draco carefully peeled back Harry's pants to expose his cock. Mmm, I've missed you, he thought tenderly. Harry's scent was deliciously familiar, and reminded him that he had yet to taste this. No time like the present, he thought, extending his tongue to lick along the length of that gorgeous cock, before taking the head into his mouth.
He sucked a few times, enjoying the flavour and the incoherent noises coming from his lover, then abruptly pulled off.
"Bastard!" Harry muttered weakly.
Draco flashed him an evil smile. "Cruel to be kind, Potter - cruel to be kind." He wormed his way up Harry's body, taking the time to undo his shirt and tease rapidly-hardening nipples with his tongue en route. When they were face-to-face, he paused, and regarded Harry a moment, before thoughtfully removing those hideous glasses and placing them carefully on the bedside table.
Harry blinked at him a couple of times, doing that mole-in-the-sunlight thing all spectacles wearers seemed to do when you relieved them of their facial encumbrance.
"Trust me?" Draco breathed, wearing possibly his least trustworthy smile.
Harry swallowed. "Um, to do what?"
Draco's smile broadened. Kissing his way along Harry's jaw line up to his ear, he whispered tenderly, "Fuck. You."
Harry's sharp intake of breath almost dislodged Draco from his position lying prone atop his lover.
"Um. I've, um. Never -"
"I know." Draco nuzzled along Harry's neck, only stopping when the rush of blood along the jugular became too distracting. That wasn't what he was after, not from Harry. "Everyone has to start sometime." He let one hand wander downwards, teasing, but not touching, that straining cock. "Don't tell me that fabled Gryffindor courage has finally failed?"
"I'm not - scared, Malfoy. Fuck, maybe a bit."
"Don't worry, Harry, I'll make sure you enjoy it." He knelt up, and pulled Harry's jeans off. "Mmm. Nice legs." He grinned. "Now, on your hands and knees, minion!" he ordered in his best under-secretary voice.
Looking a bit doubtful about the whole thing, Harry nevertheless complied. Stripping off his own trousers, Draco nudged Harry's legs a little further apart, and began to knead one buttock with his hand whilst he nibbled at the other. He decided to take Harry's gasp as encouragement, and spreading Harry's cheeks, plunged his tongue into that enticing crack.
"Gah!"
Draco paused long enough to smirk, and remark, "I bet you say that to all the boys," before resuming his task of licking all around that puckered little hole. Harry was twitching and making delicious little moans, and Draco was just about to plunge his tongue inside when -
"Are you sure that's really hygienic, darling?"
Draco had to admire those Seeker reflexes as Potter leapt several feet away from him. He rolled his eyes.
"Mother! I have company!"
"So I see. So nice to see you again, Harry, dear. You must come and have a drink with Lucius and me." She wilted a little under Draco's ferocious glare. "But perhaps another time, then. I'll leave you two alone now." She disappeared, thankfully.
Draco sighed heavily. "Sorry about that. I think she's been at the absinthe again. Now, where were we?" He eyed Harry's rather deflated erection sadly. "Now come on, Potter, I'm sure you can do better than that." He fluttered his eyelashes. "Shall I kiss it better?"
"That... might help, yeah."
Potter's penis twitched in coy agreement. Draco smiled, and leapt upon it. Yes, that was definitely helping.
"Mmm, I think you were on your knees, were you not?"
Harry rolled over obediently, and rose up on hands and knees. Who knew Potters were so easily trainable? Draco began to nibble at those appetising buttocks, then pried them apart and began rimming Harry once more. Oh, he could get used to this, he was thinking, just as there was a loud crack and Mingy appeared.
"Mistress Narcissa is sending me to ask if you is wanting anything to eat or drink," the wretched creature pronounced sullenly.
"The only thing I is wanting is par-boiled bloody house-elf! Now piss off!" Draco snarled. He threw himself back on the bed in despair. "We're doomed. Cursed for all eternity with coitus bloody interruptus. Next time, Potter, we are going to yours and I don't care if the bloody Weasel wants to watch."
Harry actually laughed. "Come here," he told Draco, and grabbed him, rolling them both over until Harry was on top. "Why don't we just, er, have a bit of a cuddle?"
"I'm a Malfoy. Malfoys don't -"
"Cuddle. Yeah." Harry ground his groin against Draco's.
Well, if it was that sort of cuddle...
"I hope you don't think I'd do this with just anyone," Draco protested, grinding back.
"I should bloody well hope not," Harry muttered. His hand crept round to squeeze Draco's left buttock.
"And you'd bloody well better respect me in the morning," Draco added, thrusting a little harder.
"Draco," Harry grinned, "I promise, I will not have one iota less respect for you in the morning than I otherwise would have."
"Good. Well, so long as we've - ahhhh - got that clear..." Draco came helplessly, barely able to note that Harry was coming too.
He closed his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them, it was to see Harry with an almost feral look on his face. For some reason, Draco felt totally undone. Grabbing Harry round the neck, he pulled him down for a fierce kiss.
********************************************
"Hermione?"
"Mmm, Harry?" Hermione muttered distractedly from behind the enormous legal volume she was wading through.
"How do you tell if someone's got an eating disorder?"
Hermione looked up at that. "Is this someone I know?"
"Er, no," Harry lied. "It's that bloke I went to dinner with last night," he added more truthfully.
"David? What makes you think he might, well, have a problem? Is he really thin?"
"No - well, he's not exactly fat, but he doesn't, you know, look like a famine victim or a supermodel. But he just never seems to eat anything. And well, last night - it didn't strike me at the time, but I've been thinking about it, and - well, he ate stuff, but he looked like it was a real effort and he disappeared to the loo for quite a while afterwards."
Hermione bit her lip. "And you think he might have been making himself sick? Did he - sorry, but did you smell anything on his breath, afterwards?"
"Yeah. A really strong minty freshness. Like maybe he was trying to cover something up."
"Oh dear, Harry - that does sound a bit, well, suspicious. Have you said anything to him about it?"
"Yeah, like what? 'Scuse me, but are you a manorexic? It's not the sort of thing you say to a bloke - 'specially if you've only just started going out together."
"So, are you going to see him again?"
In spite of his worries, Harry couldn't help smiling. "Yeah."
"Well, I think all you can do at this stage is keep an eye on things. And be supportive. I don't know much about this sort of thing, but I think the worst thing you can do is put pressure on someone who's suffering from an eating disorder. Don't try and force him to eat. In fact, it might be better to avoid restaurants for now - just go out for drinks or, you know, to the cinema or something." She smiled, a little sadly. "You really like him, don't you?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I really do."
"Harry - don't take this the wrong way, but... are you sure it's not just because of this thing you have about saving people?"
Harry couldn't help laughing. "Um, no. Really, really - no. Seriously, Hermione, he's just not the sort of bloke you look at and think, yeah, he needs saving. You'll, um, understand when you meet him."
"So when is that going to be?"
"When we're, um, a bit more - you know, when I'm sure we're a couple, OK?"
"Well, all right, but I'm not going to wait forever, you know!"
*****************************************************
The following week at work, Draco began to lay bets with himself as to how long before the Weasel found out about him and Harry. Oh, his own demeanour was as cool and apparently uninvolved as ever, but Harry seemed to be having a great deal more trouble preserving the necessary detachment. He kept grinning at Draco while they were talking, which whilst obviously adorable was not particularly conducive to a professional working environment.
And he'd started bringing Draco presents. Little - and not-so-little - boxes of chocolates. Blueberry muffins and a latte mid-morning. Cream cakes in the afternoons.
Was he trying to hint that Draco was too skinny? Draco looked himself up and down, as best he could without the benefit of a mirror. Ridiculous! His figure was perfect.
Still, it probably wouldn't hurt if he had a touch more blood in the evenings.
He was left with the problem, though, of how to dispose of Harry's little love offerings. Obviously eating them was out of the question, unless he planned to spend most of the day indisposed. He settled, in the end, on taking them home to his mother, who seemed surprised, but not displeased at the shower of gifts.
He strongly suspected she was passing them on to the house-elf, however. If Mingy got any fatter they'd have to dress her in a bloody tablecloth.
.....................................................
Sitting at his desk wading through a legal report, Draco was feeling cold and hungry. The clock on the wall was pointing to "Almost time for lunch", so he felt justified in getting out his flask of blood. He unscrewed the cap and was just about to take a healthy gulp when Weasley barged in, without knocking as per bloody usual. Glaring, Draco set his flask down on the desk. "What do you want, Weasel?"
Appearing irritatingly unfazed, Weasley merely said, "Got that report you wanted. About the abandoned werewolf children. Pleasant reading!"
He tossed the report carelessly onto the desk. Both of them watched, helpless to intervene, as a corner caught Draco's flask and sent it flying, its contents spilling all over Draco's paperwork.
"Er, whoops! Sorry about your soup, Malfoy. Guess you'll just have to come and eat in the canteen with the rest of us plebs for once."
Draco saw red, and not just the pool of crimson spreading across his desk. "You - you oaf! They don't serve my soup in the canteen! What the hell am I supposed to do for lunch now?"
Weasley shrugged, obviously not caring one whit about Draco's dilemma. "Well, would it kill you to have a bit of shepherd's pie for a change?"
Draco totally lost it. Snarling at Weasley, he could feel his fangs lengthening as he pounced upon the dumbstruck Auror. "I don't like shepherd's pie! Shepherd's bloody pie is not what I need right now!" Knocking the Auror to the floor, Draco bit into his neck savagely, and began to drink.
**************************************************
Harry's tummy was rumbling. He wasn't sure where Ron had got to, but he wanted his lunch now. Hey, maybe Draco would come to the canteen with him for once? It was worth a try. He set off down the corridor, whistling tunelessly.
Draco's door was ajar, so he pushed it open and walked straight in. And then stopped, staring aghast at the tableau before him.
Draco - his Draco - was lying on top of Ron, snogging his neck so hard it'd be a wonder if he'd ever be able to detach his mouth from it, whilst Ron lay back with an expression of utmost bliss on his face, humping his hips up and down against Draco.
How could they do this to him? His boyfriend and his best mate!
Reeling with hurt and betrayal, Harry turned on his heel and fled back the way he'd come.
***************************************************
As he felt his body temperature rise and his stomach fill, reality came back to Draco with a bump. What the hell had he been thinking of? If anyone had seen him.... At least he hadn't taken too much, like that greedy bitch at the party who'd then had no option but to turn him, or face telling her bruiser of a friend that she'd just offed her fiancé.
Draco pulled back, retracted his fangs, and jerked a befuddled-looking Weasley to his feet. Before Ron had had time to say more than, "What the f- " Draco had Obliviated him
Hurriedly, Draco cast a Healing Charm on Weasley's neck while he was still confused by the Obliviation. Perfect. No visible marks were left at all.
"Right, Weasley, that will be all. Thank you for your report - and do try not to trip over your own feet again on the way out."
"Er, yeah. Right." Weasley nodded vacantly, and left. Draco breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief.
************************************************
Rubbing at his neck absent-mindedly, Ron went into the Gents' on his way back to his and Harry's office. Unzipping his fly, he received a rather unpleasant shock. Shouldn't he have noticed coming in his pants?
Bloody hell, Hermione insisting she remain a virgin until they married was affecting him more than he thought.
He sauntered back into the office after a hurried Cleaning Charm, to find Harry with his nose stuck in a file.
"Hey, Harry, it's lunchtime. You coming?"
He hadn't seen Harry look so pissed off about anything since that time Ron had turned all his clothes pink for a laugh.
"I'm not hungry," he said shortly, and immediately returned to work.
"Oh. Right, then. I'll be off, I s'pose. See you later!"
Harry pointedly didn't reply or even look at him. Ron was baffled. What in Merlin's name had got into the bloke?
He shrugged. Maybe poofs were like girls, and got hormones, or something.
*****************************************************
Harry didn't know how he managed to get through the rest of the day at work. He could hardly bear to look at Ron, much less talk to him. He knew he didn't manage to keep the hurt out of his voice when he was forced to speak to Draco.
Malfoy was playing the innocent - he had that baffled look down pat, the bastard. He actually tried to get Harry on his own at the end of the day, but Harry brushed him off, saying he had to get home.
He couldn't face talking to him.
Not now. Not when his betrayal was still so raw.
.........................................................
That evening at Grimmauld Place was a bloody nightmare. Usually he, Ron and Hermione all cooked and ate together, but tonight Harry really couldn't face it. He'd end up emptying a saucepan over Ron's head, or attacking him with the vegetable peeler, or something. Muttering to Hermione that he wasn't hungry, Harry made himself a sandwich and took it up to his room, where he ended up pulling it to pieces more than actually eating it.
He hadn't been lying about not feeling hungry. His gut twisted as he thought of what he'd seen. How could Ron do that - not just to him, but to Hermione? And it was bloody hypocritical after all his not-terribly-funny jokes about poofs and queers, ever since Harry had come out as gay. Which, given that Percy was currently shacked up with the unsuitably youthful Dennis Creevey, Harry really thought he should have got out of his system by now.
And Draco - it hurt too much to think of Draco right now, so Harry just didn't, ignoring the hateful voices in his head telling him he should have known, nobody changes that much...
But should he say something? To Ron himself, let him know Harry was on to him? Or to Hermione - tell her her fiancé was a lying, cheating bastard? God, how could he do that?
But... how could he not? How could he let her go ahead and marry the bastard, knowing she was in for a lifetime of misery? If he'd cheated on her once, he'd do it again. The agony columns in Aunt Petunia's women's magazines had always been very clear on that point. And Hermione was too smart not to find out what was going on, even if Ron hadn't been demonstrably too bloody stupid to pick his own nose without getting caught.
Harry made up his mind. When he'd judged that they had to have finished dinner by now, he went back down to the kitchen, where Hermione was just doing the washing up, and said, pointedly not looking in Ron's direction, "Hermione? Can I have a word with you? Don't worry about that - I'm sure Ron'll finish up for you."
With a quick glance between them, Hermione peeled off her gloves and followed Harry upstairs.
She listened to his tale, her face at first showing disbelief and then fury - which then, at the end, turned to caution.
"Harry," she began hesitantly, "is there any chance at all you might have, well, misunderstood what was going on?"
"Hermione, can you think of one possible explanation, other than they're at it like bloody alley cats? You think maybe Ron fell over, and while he was down Draco noticed his neck was dirty, and decided to lick it clean? Hermione, there is no way that could have been anything other than what it looked like!"
Hermione had paled, and Harry felt guilty for raising his voice. "I think... I think we need to talk to Ron about this," she decided, with just the slightest quaver in her voice.
As they both trooped downstairs to corner Ron in the kitchen, Harry was hoping like hell he'd done the right thing.
....................................
"Ronald?" It was probably the tone of Hermione's voice that made Ron jump and drop the plate he was holding. That or his guilty bloody conscience, Harry thought angrily.
"Er, yeah, 'Mione?"
"We need to talk. All of us. Sit down."
Why wasn't Hermione a teacher? thought Harry, not for the first time, as he felt his bum hit the seat of the chair without his conscious mind having any say in the matter whatsoever.
"Harry saw you."
Ron looked baffled, which made Harry want to throw something at him. God knew how it was affecting Hermione - for all he knew she found it endearing, or something.
"Er, saw me what?"
Harry couldn't contain himself. "Saw you shagging Draco, you bastard!"
"What?" Ron was on his feet again in an instant, but a stern glare from Hermione had him sitting down again immediately.
"Er, sorry, but what the bloody hell...?"
Harry glared at him. "Well, not shagging exactly - you both had all your clothes on - but you were on the floor with him kissing your neck and you had that look on your face you always get when you wank."
"That's not - wait a minute! You've watched me wanking? Bloody hell, Harry, is nothing sacred?"
Harry coloured in the face of Ron's outrage and Hermione's shocked disapproval. "It was only once or twice," he muttered. "Anyway, stop changing the subject. You and Draco - explain."
Ron looked exasperated. "How can I explain something I can't bloody remember? The bastard must have jumped me, Confunded me, then Obliviated me, that's my guess. Is it my fault that I'm apparently irresistible to poofs?" Ron paused, visibly thinking, as Harry coughed, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Don't flatter yourself."
Apparently deciding to ignore it, Ron continued, "Wait a minute! You know I've always reckoned Malfoy must have an agenda to want to work at the Secretariat? I was right! He's a bloody Veela! No wonder he wanted the name changed from Dark creatures to non-humans."
Hermione looked doubtful. "If he were a Veela, wouldn't we all have been influenced at school?"
Ron was dismissive. "So he's only part-blood, and can turn it on and off, like Fleur. Hey, maybe it didn't even show until after he left school. It all fits, Hermione. That's why he got his dad to buy him a job, and why he's suddenly come over all sympathetic to non-humans."
"Well, I suppose it does explain things. And he has got the looks for it," Hermione mused.
"Yeah. Well. Maybe." Harry thought they were rather missing the point here. "But what it doesn't explain is what he thought he was doing getting his end away with Ron when he's supposed to be my boyfriend!"
Hermione and Ron looked at him in alarm. Ah. Shit. He'd told them he was seeing a bloke called David, hadn't he? "Um. I'd been, er, meaning to tell you that."
The other two weren't looking pissed off with him, though. Actually, they were looking sympathetic. It was Hermione who broke the silence. "Oh, Harry, he's got his claws into you too!"
No. No, that wasn't it. Was it? Was all he felt really just Veela magic?
But if that was the case, shouldn't it wear off when he wasn't with Draco?
Oh, fuck a duck. Where the hell was Newt Scamander's Fantastic Beasts when you needed it? Harry couldn't remember enough about Veela to decide whether what he felt was real or not.
Did it even matter, anyway? If Draco had just been pretending...
**************************************************
The next day, Harry marched into Draco's office, his jaw set. "Draco? We have to talk."
Draco looked up, a strange mix of emotions twisting his intestines into the sort of contortions generally favoured by the makers of balloon animals. "Well, I'm relieved to hear you're actually speaking to me again, but on the other hand, that phrase never bodes well." He sighed. "So talk."
"Not here." Harry's gaze kept straying to the corner of the room for some reason. "Let's go to the pub."
Draco shrugged, and grabbed his jacket.
When they'd got to the pub on the corner, which at that time of day was practically deserted, they nonetheless headed for a secluded corner by tacit consent, Draco because if he was about to get dumped, he didn't want the whole bloody world to hear about it and Harry - well, Harry was just a very private person, wasn't he? Still waters running deep, and all that.
Harry took a long swallow of his pint. Draco sipped his white wine thoughtfully.
"Draco, I - look, I know what you're hiding, OK? What you are, I mean. And I can understand you not wanting anyone to know." Harry swallowed, then continued in a stronger voice, "What I don't get is why - why Ron."
Merde!
Draco felt cornered. This was bad. This was very bad. This was so much worse than he'd feared. He'd thought maybe Harry had got wind of some unsavoury incident from his past - Merlin knew, there were enough to choose from - and he might have to grovel a bit, flatter Harry a bit, and then they'd be OK. But this...
"You - you know what happened?"
Harry nodded, tight-lipped. "Saw it, actually." He looked away.
Fuck.
"Look, it - it was all his fault, all right?"
"What? You're saying he started it?"
"Not... exactly. Look, Harry, you said you know what I am... well, some instincts can't just be turned off. I just... needed - well, you know. And it was his fault I needed it."
Draco was appalled to find he was running his fingers through his hair in his agitation. "Harry, please believe me. There's nothing personal about it, nothing. For fuck's sake, Harry, I almost attacked my own mother just after I'd... changed!"
"Your... mum?"
Draco glanced up. Harry was looking absolutely revolted.
Which was perfectly reasonable, after all. Draco suddenly wanted very, very badly to be somewhere else. Preferably somewhere with enough alcohol that he could drink himself into oblivion and fervently hope never to wake up.
"You think I'm a monster, don't you?"
"No! No. But I wish you'd told me, instead of leaving me to find out - that way."
Draco looked away. "Oh, use your head, Potter. You're an Auror. I'm committing a crime. How the hell could I tell you?"
Potter had his deeply unattractive village-idiot look on again, which really should have made the obviously impending break-up easier to bear, but unfortunately didn't. Draco hated himself for just how much it would hurt him to see Harry walk away.
"What crime? Look, Hermione checked it out, there's nothing in the law, or ministry regulations, to say a Veela can't hold your position. At the most, you might get reprimanded for concealing it - "
Draco had the uneasy feeling that he probably now resembled the village idiot's better-looking yet equally gormless cousin. "Veela? You think I'm a bloody Veela?"
Harry gaped. "Well, aren't you?"
"Not... not even close, Potter. And in which case, just what the hell did you think I was doing to the Weasel?" he asked, horrified.
"So... what were you doing?" Harry's voice sounded weak.
Draco regarded him intently, and leaning forward, laid a hand on his lover's arm. "This," he said, letting his fangs extend.
"Fuck!" Harry sprang backwards in his seat.
"Only the really tasty ones, Potter, usually I just bite and run."
"You... bite people." Harry looked horrified. "Have you bitten me? And - what - Obliviated me so I wouldn't remember?"
"No! Harry, I would never do that!"
"You did to Ron."
How to explain to Potter that Weasleys didn't really count...? "That... that wasn't supposed to happen. He spilled my blood, all right?"
"He what?"
"My flask of blood - I told you I bring my own lunch in - he spilled it, the clumsy oaf. I just... lost control for a moment." Draco felt increasingly defensive. "It's not like I took more than he had to spare. And he enjoyed it."
"Yeah. I saw, remember? So where do you normally get your blood from?" Harry's tone was suspicious.
"Oh, young virgins and orphaned children, naturally."
"Draco!"
He sighed. "Father procures it for me, from willing donors who are recompensed for their trouble. It's all perfectly above-board." Well, for all he knew, it could be true.
Although come to that, for all he knew the virgins and orphans thing could be true, but somehow he couldn't see his father going to that much trouble.
He sighed. "So, planning to turn me in, Auror Potter?"
Harry seemed surprised by the directness of the question. "I - look, Draco, are you actually doing anything illegal other than, you know - "
"Holding my current position whilst being a vampire?"
"Er, yeah."
"No."
"Then, um, I s'pose not. I mean, it's not like I think it's fair anyway, that - certain people - aren't allowed to hold certain jobs. And you've been doing a great job for the werewolves." He laughed shortly. "'Spect vampires were next on the list, weren't they?"
"Ah, yes." Draco was afraid he'd probably failed in his attempt not to look slightly ashamed.
Harry ran one hand through his hair, making it look like he'd just got out of bed, Draco noted distractedly.
Of course, Harry tended to look like that most of the time anyway.
"So... how did it happen, anyway? I mean, you haven't always been a vampire, have you?"
"It's a short story. I got bit."
Harry suddenly looked at him, aghast. "So Ron's going to turn into one too?"
"Ah. Apparently not quite that short. I got bit, she took too much, so she gave me some of her blood so I wouldn't die. Well, not permanently, at any rate. A side effect of which was, of course, I became a vampire. So relax, Potter, we are not going to be afflicted with the Weasel for all eternity."
"But you... you're going to live forever?"
"Well, barring unfortunate incidents with stakes or decapitation, yes. And I get to stay beautiful," he added winningly for Harry's benefit. He wondered if he should risk taking Harry's hand again. Maybe not quite yet.
"So, um, do you sleep in a coffin?"
Draco snorted. "That'd rather limit certain, ah, nocturnal activities, wouldn't it? And in any case, I'm a Malfoy. We don't have coffins, just a nice comfortable slab in a crypt."
"So, er, what about the other stuff? Um, turning into a bat, hypnotising people with your eyes, superhuman strength..."
"Please, Potter. No one believes those old wives' tales." He didn't mention he'd been absolutely gutted when he'd found out they weren't true.
"So I s'pose no swanning around in red silk shirts and evening dress either?"
"Really, Potter - red and black with my colouring? I'd look like a cheap tart dressed up for Halloween."
"So really, what you're saying is, you're just an ordinary bloke, except, um, dead?"
Draco winced. "Undead, Potter, undead. It's an entirely different matter. Dead people are Inferi, and I'd really rather you didn't liken me to one of them. For one thing, bits tend to drop off Inferi at the most embarrassing moments. My bits are all very securely attached, I can assure you."
Harry swallowed. "That's, um, reassuring."
Draco sighed. "So I suppose this is the point where I ask if it's a deal-breaker."
"Er, what?"
Eye-roll. "Me being a vampire. Is it a total turn-off, or can you learn to live with it?"
"Um. I think - I think..."
"What?"
"I think I need to think about this. Sorry. I'll, um... think."
He apparated away, leaving Draco cursing.
..........................................
Draco knew he'd be no good for work for the rest of the day, so he told old Breviter he was going home sick. The old duffer just smiled and nodded - Merlin knew what he thought Draco had said, Draco told himself sourly. The sooner the old codger managed to get his other foot into the grave, the better.
Once back at the Manor Draco worked off a bit of his stress shouting at Mingy, but eventually he just lay back on his bed in the wardrobe and thought of Harry.
He'd got used to being with Harry. He liked Harry. Maybe even... And now it seemed he was going to lose him, all because of some unaccountable prejudice against vampires.
All right, so maybe it wasn't that unaccountable. And admittedly, Draco could have handled his "coming out" better. He sighed, and reached for his bottle of blood.
And stopped himself. The last thing he needed now was to start comfort eating.
.................................................
"For Merlin's sake, Draco - will you stop sulking?" Lucius sounded irritated.
"I am not sulking, Father. I am mourning my lost love." Draco sighed dramatically. If he was going to have his heart broken he might as well have some bloody sympathy.
"Well, perhaps it'll teach you to be more careful in future. Merlin help you if you can't even keep a half-blood oik with fewer social graces than a house-elf happy!"
As if she'd been listening, Mingy chose that moment to appear with a loud crack. "Master Draco is having a visitor," she announced sullenly. "Will Master Draco be shouting at Mingy again while she is just trying to do her job?"
"You know, Father, I really think we've been letting the discipline slide," Draco muttered. "Mingy - go iron your stomach or something, Merlin knows it could do with it." His mind wasn't really on the house-elf, however - this had to be Harry!
It was good, wasn't it, that he'd turned up in person? If he'd been going to dump Draco, he could have just sent an owl. Draco sighed. No doubt the bloody Gryffindor code forbade any acts of cowardice like that. He couldn't read too much into it.
He was desperate to know what Potter had come to say, so why did his feet seem to drag so as he headed towards the drawing room visitors were always shown into? Draco hoped fervently he hadn't suddenly developed a talent for divination.
Even with dragging feet, and the size of the Manor, he had to reach Harry eventually. Draco paused on the threshold of the drawing room. Harry looked - nervous?
Oh, bloody hell. "Harry?"
Potter started, and spun round. "Draco! I - are you OK? You look a bit pale."
Draco sighed. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. "Vampire, Potter. Pale sort of goes with the territory."
"Oh. Yeah. Well, I've been thinking about, you know - us, and, well..."
"Yes?" If Potter didn't get to the point soon Draco was going to have to bite him.
"I'd like to, um, give it a go. Us together, I mean. If you still want to, that is."
Yes! Inwardly, Draco was punching the air. Outwardly, of course, he was playing it a little cooler, as befitted a Malfoy. "Well, I was a little hurt that you seemed to need so much time to consider - "
Potter's face fell comically, and Draco relented.
"Of course I bloody want to, you idiot. Now come here and kiss me or I'll bleed your bloody veins dry!"
"Um, Draco? That's really not a very romantic thing to say, you know. Although - " Harry blushed. "When you bit Ron, it did look like he was, um, enjoying it, so maybe sometime we could, er -"
"Mmm, well now you mention it, I am feeling a little peckish..." He smiled, and drew Harry closer. "Of course, there are other things you could feed me as well."
Harry grinned. "Chocolates? Blueberry muffins?"
"Hm. Not precisely what I had in mind."
Harry grinned, and kissed him.
fin.
Author:
drachenminaCharacters: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley
Rating: NC17
Part One
A few cleaning and tidying charms later, Harry walked back to his and Ron's office with a spring in his step and a dinner date for that Friday. Draco had suggested they just go for a drink, but Harry had wanted to do something with a bit more chance of them not just ending up in bed straight away again.
Not that bed was bad - far from it - but he had a sneaking suspicion a proper relationship ought to involve at least some time spent together with all of your clothes on even if neither of you was a girl.
He hummed happily as he straightened his desk and set to work.
"Dunno what you're so bloody cheerful about," muttered Ron grumpily.
********************************************
Draco found himself in a bit of a quandary. Harry had seemed so cutely enthusiastic about taking him to dinner that Draco hadn't had the heart to decline.
But what the hell was he going to do about eating? Once back at the manor, he dug out the leaflet the VI had sent.
It is a common misconception that vampires are unable to eat. However, a vampire is unable to digest solid food, and consequently any food ingested will be spontaneously rejected by the body (i.e. vomited) between half an hour and an hour after ingestion.
To avoid being "caught short" on the way home, it is vitally important to either leave immediately after dessert, or insist on lingering over coffee. You may also wish to consider eating only one course as constant trips to the restaurant facilities may attract unwelcome attention.
Right. Well, it looked as though it was feasible, at any rate.
...............................................................
Draco had insisted he be the one to choose the restaurant. After all, if he was actually going to be eating for once in his unlife, and facing the doubtless unpleasant consequences afterwards, he was damned if he was going to do it for a meal at Pizza Hut, which Potter probably thought was the height of sophistication.
He'd decided on a little French place he'd been to with his parents once or twice. It wasn't his favourite, Réclassé, but he thought it probably wouldn't be wise to go there, where the service would be obsequious and he'd no doubt allow himself to be pressurized into having dessert. This would be his first experiment with solid food since being turned - he didn't want to take too many risks, after all.
Plus, if Potter's table manners turned out to be as appalling as he fully expected, Draco certainly didn't want to be seen with him in a place where he was so well known.
Potter seemed quite impressed enough with La Cuiller D'Or, if not a little uncomfortable.
"Relax, Potter. It's just a restaurant, and we're the ones paying their wages."
His companion grinned sheepishly. It was rather adorable, actually. "Um, if you really want me to relax, you could try calling me Harry."
Draco smiled one of his most charming smiles (another reason to be glad he still had a reflection: it would be a disaster not to be able to practice smiling in front of a mirror). "Of course! And you must call me Draco."
It was really very sweet how Harry, so confident and easy in his dealings with everyone, Draco included, at work, suddenly turned so shy in a social situation.
Or was it just because he was on a date with Draco? That, Draco decided, was even sweeter.
"So, have you told the Weasel where you are tonight? And with whom?"
"Er, no. Not exactly. I told him I was seeing a bloke for dinner. He, um, generally doesn't ask for any further details."
"Well, I should hate to think I'd been responsible for bringing a blush to those freckled cheeks. His complexion's vile enough as it is. Not precisely... comfortable with homosexuality, then, our Weasel?"
Harry smiled. "He's fine, really. I mean, he tries really hard, but you can tell it's, um, hard for him."
"Mmm. If you repeat that word any more, things will be getting rather hard for me too, Harry." Draco smouldered, just a little. He didn't want to overdo things before they'd even ordered, after all.
Harry, he decided, could blush exceedingly prettily.
.....................................
Fortunately it turned out that Potter could be easily dissuaded from ordering a starter. Draco was finding it hard to conceal his impatience to get at his main course. He was going to eat food. Proper food. Solid food. He'd ordered salmon with hollandaise sauce, which had always been a particular favourite of his, and he was salivating at the very thought of it.
Potter, of course, had gone for a large chunk of red meat, the only surprise being that he hadn't asked for it to be well done. In a fit of generosity, Draco had suggested they drink red wine, suited to Potter's choice rather than his own, and he was starting to regret it already. Dammit, he wanted this meal to be perfect.
When the waiter arrived with their order, Draco could barely restrain himself from grabbing his plate out of the man's hands. His hands trembling imperceptibly, he cut a slice of the exquisitely cooked fish and popped it into his mouth. It was...
... nothing like he'd remembered at all. It tasted - dead. Thoroughly flat, dry and flavourless. Draco could have wept. All this anticipation, only to discover he didn't even like solid food any more? He laid down his fork in despair.
"Is yours OK? This is delicious!" Harry enthused, shovelling down his steak as if worried someone would snatch the plate away before he'd finished. Mind you, Draco had heard a rumour or two about those Muggle relatives of Harry's, so he forbore to comment.
"Not awfully hungry, I'm afraid," he said with a sigh. "But you enjoy." He forced a few forkfuls down so it wouldn't look too odd. What an utter waste. He eyed Harry's plate. There was a thin trail of blood spilling from the inside of the steak. "I, ah, couldn't try a bit of yours, could I?" If Mother ever found out about this appalling lapse of manners she'd probably stake him. Fortunately Potter, having been brought up by savages, didn't have a clue Draco had said anything amiss.
"Yeah, course you can. Here you go." He sliced off a generous portion of the steak and transferred it to Draco's plate. "'S good, isn't it?"
"Lovely," Draco lied. Oh, it was better - but all he wanted was his flask of blood, now, and to forget such places as restaurants had ever existed. He took a hefty swig of Merlot.
Standing in a cubicle in the Gents' later, Draco gloomily surveyed the results of his evening meal.
Then he realised abruptly just how gross he was being, and flushed the toilet, performing his strongest Breath-Freshening Charm. Taking out his hip flask, he quickly swallowed his real meal for the evening, and resignedly renewed the charm.
................................
Harry looked a bit tense when Draco returned to the table. Damn! He should have realised he was spending too long in the Gents'. Didn't want Harry to think he'd been getting up to anything in there.
"So, um, where to now?" Harry asked. "I'd invite you back to mine, but, er - "
"Let me guess. It is infested with Weasleys and Weasleys-to-be." Draco smirked. "Fortunately, since leaving Hogwarts, my living arrangements in the Manor have changed somewhat."
"Yeah?"
"Mmm. I have my own wing."
It was rather pleasant, holding on to Harry's arm to Side-Along-Apparate him. Draco purposely took him into the manor gardens - it was a mild, moonlit night, perfect for a walk, as long as they managed not to trip over one of Father's bloody peacocks.
Harry seemed suitably impressed by the scale and beauty of the gardens, if a little inclined to obsess about how many hours a week it must take to keep them in their pristine condition.
"I didn't realise you were a keen gardener, Harry."
"Oh - I'm not." Harry looked a little sheepish. "It's just, I had to do most of the gardening for my aunt and uncle. I can't seem to look at a flowerbed without thinking of all the weeding that has to get done." It was rather sad, really.
"In that case, perhaps we should go inside? Unless you're about to tell me that beds make you think of doing the laundry?"
Harry swallowed. "No, I - I can think of a few other things that have to do with beds."
"Really?" Draco's interest was piqued. "I think we'd better test this out."
Apparating them straight into his far-too-large bedroom, Draco decided to distract Harry from the scale of the place by tackling him to the bed and, slithering down, undoing his jeans and nuzzling his crotch.
It seemed to work rather well.
Taking the rather incoherent sounds Harry was making as encouragement, Draco carefully peeled back Harry's pants to expose his cock. Mmm, I've missed you, he thought tenderly. Harry's scent was deliciously familiar, and reminded him that he had yet to taste this. No time like the present, he thought, extending his tongue to lick along the length of that gorgeous cock, before taking the head into his mouth.
He sucked a few times, enjoying the flavour and the incoherent noises coming from his lover, then abruptly pulled off.
"Bastard!" Harry muttered weakly.
Draco flashed him an evil smile. "Cruel to be kind, Potter - cruel to be kind." He wormed his way up Harry's body, taking the time to undo his shirt and tease rapidly-hardening nipples with his tongue en route. When they were face-to-face, he paused, and regarded Harry a moment, before thoughtfully removing those hideous glasses and placing them carefully on the bedside table.
Harry blinked at him a couple of times, doing that mole-in-the-sunlight thing all spectacles wearers seemed to do when you relieved them of their facial encumbrance.
"Trust me?" Draco breathed, wearing possibly his least trustworthy smile.
Harry swallowed. "Um, to do what?"
Draco's smile broadened. Kissing his way along Harry's jaw line up to his ear, he whispered tenderly, "Fuck. You."
Harry's sharp intake of breath almost dislodged Draco from his position lying prone atop his lover.
"Um. I've, um. Never -"
"I know." Draco nuzzled along Harry's neck, only stopping when the rush of blood along the jugular became too distracting. That wasn't what he was after, not from Harry. "Everyone has to start sometime." He let one hand wander downwards, teasing, but not touching, that straining cock. "Don't tell me that fabled Gryffindor courage has finally failed?"
"I'm not - scared, Malfoy. Fuck, maybe a bit."
"Don't worry, Harry, I'll make sure you enjoy it." He knelt up, and pulled Harry's jeans off. "Mmm. Nice legs." He grinned. "Now, on your hands and knees, minion!" he ordered in his best under-secretary voice.
Looking a bit doubtful about the whole thing, Harry nevertheless complied. Stripping off his own trousers, Draco nudged Harry's legs a little further apart, and began to knead one buttock with his hand whilst he nibbled at the other. He decided to take Harry's gasp as encouragement, and spreading Harry's cheeks, plunged his tongue into that enticing crack.
"Gah!"
Draco paused long enough to smirk, and remark, "I bet you say that to all the boys," before resuming his task of licking all around that puckered little hole. Harry was twitching and making delicious little moans, and Draco was just about to plunge his tongue inside when -
"Are you sure that's really hygienic, darling?"
Draco had to admire those Seeker reflexes as Potter leapt several feet away from him. He rolled his eyes.
"Mother! I have company!"
"So I see. So nice to see you again, Harry, dear. You must come and have a drink with Lucius and me." She wilted a little under Draco's ferocious glare. "But perhaps another time, then. I'll leave you two alone now." She disappeared, thankfully.
Draco sighed heavily. "Sorry about that. I think she's been at the absinthe again. Now, where were we?" He eyed Harry's rather deflated erection sadly. "Now come on, Potter, I'm sure you can do better than that." He fluttered his eyelashes. "Shall I kiss it better?"
"That... might help, yeah."
Potter's penis twitched in coy agreement. Draco smiled, and leapt upon it. Yes, that was definitely helping.
"Mmm, I think you were on your knees, were you not?"
Harry rolled over obediently, and rose up on hands and knees. Who knew Potters were so easily trainable? Draco began to nibble at those appetising buttocks, then pried them apart and began rimming Harry once more. Oh, he could get used to this, he was thinking, just as there was a loud crack and Mingy appeared.
"Mistress Narcissa is sending me to ask if you is wanting anything to eat or drink," the wretched creature pronounced sullenly.
"The only thing I is wanting is par-boiled bloody house-elf! Now piss off!" Draco snarled. He threw himself back on the bed in despair. "We're doomed. Cursed for all eternity with coitus bloody interruptus. Next time, Potter, we are going to yours and I don't care if the bloody Weasel wants to watch."
Harry actually laughed. "Come here," he told Draco, and grabbed him, rolling them both over until Harry was on top. "Why don't we just, er, have a bit of a cuddle?"
"I'm a Malfoy. Malfoys don't -"
"Cuddle. Yeah." Harry ground his groin against Draco's.
Well, if it was that sort of cuddle...
"I hope you don't think I'd do this with just anyone," Draco protested, grinding back.
"I should bloody well hope not," Harry muttered. His hand crept round to squeeze Draco's left buttock.
"And you'd bloody well better respect me in the morning," Draco added, thrusting a little harder.
"Draco," Harry grinned, "I promise, I will not have one iota less respect for you in the morning than I otherwise would have."
"Good. Well, so long as we've - ahhhh - got that clear..." Draco came helplessly, barely able to note that Harry was coming too.
He closed his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them, it was to see Harry with an almost feral look on his face. For some reason, Draco felt totally undone. Grabbing Harry round the neck, he pulled him down for a fierce kiss.
********************************************
"Hermione?"
"Mmm, Harry?" Hermione muttered distractedly from behind the enormous legal volume she was wading through.
"How do you tell if someone's got an eating disorder?"
Hermione looked up at that. "Is this someone I know?"
"Er, no," Harry lied. "It's that bloke I went to dinner with last night," he added more truthfully.
"David? What makes you think he might, well, have a problem? Is he really thin?"
"No - well, he's not exactly fat, but he doesn't, you know, look like a famine victim or a supermodel. But he just never seems to eat anything. And well, last night - it didn't strike me at the time, but I've been thinking about it, and - well, he ate stuff, but he looked like it was a real effort and he disappeared to the loo for quite a while afterwards."
Hermione bit her lip. "And you think he might have been making himself sick? Did he - sorry, but did you smell anything on his breath, afterwards?"
"Yeah. A really strong minty freshness. Like maybe he was trying to cover something up."
"Oh dear, Harry - that does sound a bit, well, suspicious. Have you said anything to him about it?"
"Yeah, like what? 'Scuse me, but are you a manorexic? It's not the sort of thing you say to a bloke - 'specially if you've only just started going out together."
"So, are you going to see him again?"
In spite of his worries, Harry couldn't help smiling. "Yeah."
"Well, I think all you can do at this stage is keep an eye on things. And be supportive. I don't know much about this sort of thing, but I think the worst thing you can do is put pressure on someone who's suffering from an eating disorder. Don't try and force him to eat. In fact, it might be better to avoid restaurants for now - just go out for drinks or, you know, to the cinema or something." She smiled, a little sadly. "You really like him, don't you?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I really do."
"Harry - don't take this the wrong way, but... are you sure it's not just because of this thing you have about saving people?"
Harry couldn't help laughing. "Um, no. Really, really - no. Seriously, Hermione, he's just not the sort of bloke you look at and think, yeah, he needs saving. You'll, um, understand when you meet him."
"So when is that going to be?"
"When we're, um, a bit more - you know, when I'm sure we're a couple, OK?"
"Well, all right, but I'm not going to wait forever, you know!"
*****************************************************
The following week at work, Draco began to lay bets with himself as to how long before the Weasel found out about him and Harry. Oh, his own demeanour was as cool and apparently uninvolved as ever, but Harry seemed to be having a great deal more trouble preserving the necessary detachment. He kept grinning at Draco while they were talking, which whilst obviously adorable was not particularly conducive to a professional working environment.
And he'd started bringing Draco presents. Little - and not-so-little - boxes of chocolates. Blueberry muffins and a latte mid-morning. Cream cakes in the afternoons.
Was he trying to hint that Draco was too skinny? Draco looked himself up and down, as best he could without the benefit of a mirror. Ridiculous! His figure was perfect.
Still, it probably wouldn't hurt if he had a touch more blood in the evenings.
He was left with the problem, though, of how to dispose of Harry's little love offerings. Obviously eating them was out of the question, unless he planned to spend most of the day indisposed. He settled, in the end, on taking them home to his mother, who seemed surprised, but not displeased at the shower of gifts.
He strongly suspected she was passing them on to the house-elf, however. If Mingy got any fatter they'd have to dress her in a bloody tablecloth.
.....................................................
Sitting at his desk wading through a legal report, Draco was feeling cold and hungry. The clock on the wall was pointing to "Almost time for lunch", so he felt justified in getting out his flask of blood. He unscrewed the cap and was just about to take a healthy gulp when Weasley barged in, without knocking as per bloody usual. Glaring, Draco set his flask down on the desk. "What do you want, Weasel?"
Appearing irritatingly unfazed, Weasley merely said, "Got that report you wanted. About the abandoned werewolf children. Pleasant reading!"
He tossed the report carelessly onto the desk. Both of them watched, helpless to intervene, as a corner caught Draco's flask and sent it flying, its contents spilling all over Draco's paperwork.
"Er, whoops! Sorry about your soup, Malfoy. Guess you'll just have to come and eat in the canteen with the rest of us plebs for once."
Draco saw red, and not just the pool of crimson spreading across his desk. "You - you oaf! They don't serve my soup in the canteen! What the hell am I supposed to do for lunch now?"
Weasley shrugged, obviously not caring one whit about Draco's dilemma. "Well, would it kill you to have a bit of shepherd's pie for a change?"
Draco totally lost it. Snarling at Weasley, he could feel his fangs lengthening as he pounced upon the dumbstruck Auror. "I don't like shepherd's pie! Shepherd's bloody pie is not what I need right now!" Knocking the Auror to the floor, Draco bit into his neck savagely, and began to drink.
**************************************************
Harry's tummy was rumbling. He wasn't sure where Ron had got to, but he wanted his lunch now. Hey, maybe Draco would come to the canteen with him for once? It was worth a try. He set off down the corridor, whistling tunelessly.
Draco's door was ajar, so he pushed it open and walked straight in. And then stopped, staring aghast at the tableau before him.
Draco - his Draco - was lying on top of Ron, snogging his neck so hard it'd be a wonder if he'd ever be able to detach his mouth from it, whilst Ron lay back with an expression of utmost bliss on his face, humping his hips up and down against Draco.
How could they do this to him? His boyfriend and his best mate!
Reeling with hurt and betrayal, Harry turned on his heel and fled back the way he'd come.
***************************************************
As he felt his body temperature rise and his stomach fill, reality came back to Draco with a bump. What the hell had he been thinking of? If anyone had seen him.... At least he hadn't taken too much, like that greedy bitch at the party who'd then had no option but to turn him, or face telling her bruiser of a friend that she'd just offed her fiancé.
Draco pulled back, retracted his fangs, and jerked a befuddled-looking Weasley to his feet. Before Ron had had time to say more than, "What the f- " Draco had Obliviated him
Hurriedly, Draco cast a Healing Charm on Weasley's neck while he was still confused by the Obliviation. Perfect. No visible marks were left at all.
"Right, Weasley, that will be all. Thank you for your report - and do try not to trip over your own feet again on the way out."
"Er, yeah. Right." Weasley nodded vacantly, and left. Draco breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief.
************************************************
Rubbing at his neck absent-mindedly, Ron went into the Gents' on his way back to his and Harry's office. Unzipping his fly, he received a rather unpleasant shock. Shouldn't he have noticed coming in his pants?
Bloody hell, Hermione insisting she remain a virgin until they married was affecting him more than he thought.
He sauntered back into the office after a hurried Cleaning Charm, to find Harry with his nose stuck in a file.
"Hey, Harry, it's lunchtime. You coming?"
He hadn't seen Harry look so pissed off about anything since that time Ron had turned all his clothes pink for a laugh.
"I'm not hungry," he said shortly, and immediately returned to work.
"Oh. Right, then. I'll be off, I s'pose. See you later!"
Harry pointedly didn't reply or even look at him. Ron was baffled. What in Merlin's name had got into the bloke?
He shrugged. Maybe poofs were like girls, and got hormones, or something.
*****************************************************
Harry didn't know how he managed to get through the rest of the day at work. He could hardly bear to look at Ron, much less talk to him. He knew he didn't manage to keep the hurt out of his voice when he was forced to speak to Draco.
Malfoy was playing the innocent - he had that baffled look down pat, the bastard. He actually tried to get Harry on his own at the end of the day, but Harry brushed him off, saying he had to get home.
He couldn't face talking to him.
Not now. Not when his betrayal was still so raw.
.........................................................
That evening at Grimmauld Place was a bloody nightmare. Usually he, Ron and Hermione all cooked and ate together, but tonight Harry really couldn't face it. He'd end up emptying a saucepan over Ron's head, or attacking him with the vegetable peeler, or something. Muttering to Hermione that he wasn't hungry, Harry made himself a sandwich and took it up to his room, where he ended up pulling it to pieces more than actually eating it.
He hadn't been lying about not feeling hungry. His gut twisted as he thought of what he'd seen. How could Ron do that - not just to him, but to Hermione? And it was bloody hypocritical after all his not-terribly-funny jokes about poofs and queers, ever since Harry had come out as gay. Which, given that Percy was currently shacked up with the unsuitably youthful Dennis Creevey, Harry really thought he should have got out of his system by now.
And Draco - it hurt too much to think of Draco right now, so Harry just didn't, ignoring the hateful voices in his head telling him he should have known, nobody changes that much...
But should he say something? To Ron himself, let him know Harry was on to him? Or to Hermione - tell her her fiancé was a lying, cheating bastard? God, how could he do that?
But... how could he not? How could he let her go ahead and marry the bastard, knowing she was in for a lifetime of misery? If he'd cheated on her once, he'd do it again. The agony columns in Aunt Petunia's women's magazines had always been very clear on that point. And Hermione was too smart not to find out what was going on, even if Ron hadn't been demonstrably too bloody stupid to pick his own nose without getting caught.
Harry made up his mind. When he'd judged that they had to have finished dinner by now, he went back down to the kitchen, where Hermione was just doing the washing up, and said, pointedly not looking in Ron's direction, "Hermione? Can I have a word with you? Don't worry about that - I'm sure Ron'll finish up for you."
With a quick glance between them, Hermione peeled off her gloves and followed Harry upstairs.
She listened to his tale, her face at first showing disbelief and then fury - which then, at the end, turned to caution.
"Harry," she began hesitantly, "is there any chance at all you might have, well, misunderstood what was going on?"
"Hermione, can you think of one possible explanation, other than they're at it like bloody alley cats? You think maybe Ron fell over, and while he was down Draco noticed his neck was dirty, and decided to lick it clean? Hermione, there is no way that could have been anything other than what it looked like!"
Hermione had paled, and Harry felt guilty for raising his voice. "I think... I think we need to talk to Ron about this," she decided, with just the slightest quaver in her voice.
As they both trooped downstairs to corner Ron in the kitchen, Harry was hoping like hell he'd done the right thing.
....................................
"Ronald?" It was probably the tone of Hermione's voice that made Ron jump and drop the plate he was holding. That or his guilty bloody conscience, Harry thought angrily.
"Er, yeah, 'Mione?"
"We need to talk. All of us. Sit down."
Why wasn't Hermione a teacher? thought Harry, not for the first time, as he felt his bum hit the seat of the chair without his conscious mind having any say in the matter whatsoever.
"Harry saw you."
Ron looked baffled, which made Harry want to throw something at him. God knew how it was affecting Hermione - for all he knew she found it endearing, or something.
"Er, saw me what?"
Harry couldn't contain himself. "Saw you shagging Draco, you bastard!"
"What?" Ron was on his feet again in an instant, but a stern glare from Hermione had him sitting down again immediately.
"Er, sorry, but what the bloody hell...?"
Harry glared at him. "Well, not shagging exactly - you both had all your clothes on - but you were on the floor with him kissing your neck and you had that look on your face you always get when you wank."
"That's not - wait a minute! You've watched me wanking? Bloody hell, Harry, is nothing sacred?"
Harry coloured in the face of Ron's outrage and Hermione's shocked disapproval. "It was only once or twice," he muttered. "Anyway, stop changing the subject. You and Draco - explain."
Ron looked exasperated. "How can I explain something I can't bloody remember? The bastard must have jumped me, Confunded me, then Obliviated me, that's my guess. Is it my fault that I'm apparently irresistible to poofs?" Ron paused, visibly thinking, as Harry coughed, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Don't flatter yourself."
Apparently deciding to ignore it, Ron continued, "Wait a minute! You know I've always reckoned Malfoy must have an agenda to want to work at the Secretariat? I was right! He's a bloody Veela! No wonder he wanted the name changed from Dark creatures to non-humans."
Hermione looked doubtful. "If he were a Veela, wouldn't we all have been influenced at school?"
Ron was dismissive. "So he's only part-blood, and can turn it on and off, like Fleur. Hey, maybe it didn't even show until after he left school. It all fits, Hermione. That's why he got his dad to buy him a job, and why he's suddenly come over all sympathetic to non-humans."
"Well, I suppose it does explain things. And he has got the looks for it," Hermione mused.
"Yeah. Well. Maybe." Harry thought they were rather missing the point here. "But what it doesn't explain is what he thought he was doing getting his end away with Ron when he's supposed to be my boyfriend!"
Hermione and Ron looked at him in alarm. Ah. Shit. He'd told them he was seeing a bloke called David, hadn't he? "Um. I'd been, er, meaning to tell you that."
The other two weren't looking pissed off with him, though. Actually, they were looking sympathetic. It was Hermione who broke the silence. "Oh, Harry, he's got his claws into you too!"
No. No, that wasn't it. Was it? Was all he felt really just Veela magic?
But if that was the case, shouldn't it wear off when he wasn't with Draco?
Oh, fuck a duck. Where the hell was Newt Scamander's Fantastic Beasts when you needed it? Harry couldn't remember enough about Veela to decide whether what he felt was real or not.
Did it even matter, anyway? If Draco had just been pretending...
**************************************************
The next day, Harry marched into Draco's office, his jaw set. "Draco? We have to talk."
Draco looked up, a strange mix of emotions twisting his intestines into the sort of contortions generally favoured by the makers of balloon animals. "Well, I'm relieved to hear you're actually speaking to me again, but on the other hand, that phrase never bodes well." He sighed. "So talk."
"Not here." Harry's gaze kept straying to the corner of the room for some reason. "Let's go to the pub."
Draco shrugged, and grabbed his jacket.
When they'd got to the pub on the corner, which at that time of day was practically deserted, they nonetheless headed for a secluded corner by tacit consent, Draco because if he was about to get dumped, he didn't want the whole bloody world to hear about it and Harry - well, Harry was just a very private person, wasn't he? Still waters running deep, and all that.
Harry took a long swallow of his pint. Draco sipped his white wine thoughtfully.
"Draco, I - look, I know what you're hiding, OK? What you are, I mean. And I can understand you not wanting anyone to know." Harry swallowed, then continued in a stronger voice, "What I don't get is why - why Ron."
Merde!
Draco felt cornered. This was bad. This was very bad. This was so much worse than he'd feared. He'd thought maybe Harry had got wind of some unsavoury incident from his past - Merlin knew, there were enough to choose from - and he might have to grovel a bit, flatter Harry a bit, and then they'd be OK. But this...
"You - you know what happened?"
Harry nodded, tight-lipped. "Saw it, actually." He looked away.
Fuck.
"Look, it - it was all his fault, all right?"
"What? You're saying he started it?"
"Not... exactly. Look, Harry, you said you know what I am... well, some instincts can't just be turned off. I just... needed - well, you know. And it was his fault I needed it."
Draco was appalled to find he was running his fingers through his hair in his agitation. "Harry, please believe me. There's nothing personal about it, nothing. For fuck's sake, Harry, I almost attacked my own mother just after I'd... changed!"
"Your... mum?"
Draco glanced up. Harry was looking absolutely revolted.
Which was perfectly reasonable, after all. Draco suddenly wanted very, very badly to be somewhere else. Preferably somewhere with enough alcohol that he could drink himself into oblivion and fervently hope never to wake up.
"You think I'm a monster, don't you?"
"No! No. But I wish you'd told me, instead of leaving me to find out - that way."
Draco looked away. "Oh, use your head, Potter. You're an Auror. I'm committing a crime. How the hell could I tell you?"
Potter had his deeply unattractive village-idiot look on again, which really should have made the obviously impending break-up easier to bear, but unfortunately didn't. Draco hated himself for just how much it would hurt him to see Harry walk away.
"What crime? Look, Hermione checked it out, there's nothing in the law, or ministry regulations, to say a Veela can't hold your position. At the most, you might get reprimanded for concealing it - "
Draco had the uneasy feeling that he probably now resembled the village idiot's better-looking yet equally gormless cousin. "Veela? You think I'm a bloody Veela?"
Harry gaped. "Well, aren't you?"
"Not... not even close, Potter. And in which case, just what the hell did you think I was doing to the Weasel?" he asked, horrified.
"So... what were you doing?" Harry's voice sounded weak.
Draco regarded him intently, and leaning forward, laid a hand on his lover's arm. "This," he said, letting his fangs extend.
"Fuck!" Harry sprang backwards in his seat.
"Only the really tasty ones, Potter, usually I just bite and run."
"You... bite people." Harry looked horrified. "Have you bitten me? And - what - Obliviated me so I wouldn't remember?"
"No! Harry, I would never do that!"
"You did to Ron."
How to explain to Potter that Weasleys didn't really count...? "That... that wasn't supposed to happen. He spilled my blood, all right?"
"He what?"
"My flask of blood - I told you I bring my own lunch in - he spilled it, the clumsy oaf. I just... lost control for a moment." Draco felt increasingly defensive. "It's not like I took more than he had to spare. And he enjoyed it."
"Yeah. I saw, remember? So where do you normally get your blood from?" Harry's tone was suspicious.
"Oh, young virgins and orphaned children, naturally."
"Draco!"
He sighed. "Father procures it for me, from willing donors who are recompensed for their trouble. It's all perfectly above-board." Well, for all he knew, it could be true.
Although come to that, for all he knew the virgins and orphans thing could be true, but somehow he couldn't see his father going to that much trouble.
He sighed. "So, planning to turn me in, Auror Potter?"
Harry seemed surprised by the directness of the question. "I - look, Draco, are you actually doing anything illegal other than, you know - "
"Holding my current position whilst being a vampire?"
"Er, yeah."
"No."
"Then, um, I s'pose not. I mean, it's not like I think it's fair anyway, that - certain people - aren't allowed to hold certain jobs. And you've been doing a great job for the werewolves." He laughed shortly. "'Spect vampires were next on the list, weren't they?"
"Ah, yes." Draco was afraid he'd probably failed in his attempt not to look slightly ashamed.
Harry ran one hand through his hair, making it look like he'd just got out of bed, Draco noted distractedly.
Of course, Harry tended to look like that most of the time anyway.
"So... how did it happen, anyway? I mean, you haven't always been a vampire, have you?"
"It's a short story. I got bit."
Harry suddenly looked at him, aghast. "So Ron's going to turn into one too?"
"Ah. Apparently not quite that short. I got bit, she took too much, so she gave me some of her blood so I wouldn't die. Well, not permanently, at any rate. A side effect of which was, of course, I became a vampire. So relax, Potter, we are not going to be afflicted with the Weasel for all eternity."
"But you... you're going to live forever?"
"Well, barring unfortunate incidents with stakes or decapitation, yes. And I get to stay beautiful," he added winningly for Harry's benefit. He wondered if he should risk taking Harry's hand again. Maybe not quite yet.
"So, um, do you sleep in a coffin?"
Draco snorted. "That'd rather limit certain, ah, nocturnal activities, wouldn't it? And in any case, I'm a Malfoy. We don't have coffins, just a nice comfortable slab in a crypt."
"So, er, what about the other stuff? Um, turning into a bat, hypnotising people with your eyes, superhuman strength..."
"Please, Potter. No one believes those old wives' tales." He didn't mention he'd been absolutely gutted when he'd found out they weren't true.
"So I s'pose no swanning around in red silk shirts and evening dress either?"
"Really, Potter - red and black with my colouring? I'd look like a cheap tart dressed up for Halloween."
"So really, what you're saying is, you're just an ordinary bloke, except, um, dead?"
Draco winced. "Undead, Potter, undead. It's an entirely different matter. Dead people are Inferi, and I'd really rather you didn't liken me to one of them. For one thing, bits tend to drop off Inferi at the most embarrassing moments. My bits are all very securely attached, I can assure you."
Harry swallowed. "That's, um, reassuring."
Draco sighed. "So I suppose this is the point where I ask if it's a deal-breaker."
"Er, what?"
Eye-roll. "Me being a vampire. Is it a total turn-off, or can you learn to live with it?"
"Um. I think - I think..."
"What?"
"I think I need to think about this. Sorry. I'll, um... think."
He apparated away, leaving Draco cursing.
..........................................
Draco knew he'd be no good for work for the rest of the day, so he told old Breviter he was going home sick. The old duffer just smiled and nodded - Merlin knew what he thought Draco had said, Draco told himself sourly. The sooner the old codger managed to get his other foot into the grave, the better.
Once back at the Manor Draco worked off a bit of his stress shouting at Mingy, but eventually he just lay back on his bed in the wardrobe and thought of Harry.
He'd got used to being with Harry. He liked Harry. Maybe even... And now it seemed he was going to lose him, all because of some unaccountable prejudice against vampires.
All right, so maybe it wasn't that unaccountable. And admittedly, Draco could have handled his "coming out" better. He sighed, and reached for his bottle of blood.
And stopped himself. The last thing he needed now was to start comfort eating.
.................................................
"For Merlin's sake, Draco - will you stop sulking?" Lucius sounded irritated.
"I am not sulking, Father. I am mourning my lost love." Draco sighed dramatically. If he was going to have his heart broken he might as well have some bloody sympathy.
"Well, perhaps it'll teach you to be more careful in future. Merlin help you if you can't even keep a half-blood oik with fewer social graces than a house-elf happy!"
As if she'd been listening, Mingy chose that moment to appear with a loud crack. "Master Draco is having a visitor," she announced sullenly. "Will Master Draco be shouting at Mingy again while she is just trying to do her job?"
"You know, Father, I really think we've been letting the discipline slide," Draco muttered. "Mingy - go iron your stomach or something, Merlin knows it could do with it." His mind wasn't really on the house-elf, however - this had to be Harry!
It was good, wasn't it, that he'd turned up in person? If he'd been going to dump Draco, he could have just sent an owl. Draco sighed. No doubt the bloody Gryffindor code forbade any acts of cowardice like that. He couldn't read too much into it.
He was desperate to know what Potter had come to say, so why did his feet seem to drag so as he headed towards the drawing room visitors were always shown into? Draco hoped fervently he hadn't suddenly developed a talent for divination.
Even with dragging feet, and the size of the Manor, he had to reach Harry eventually. Draco paused on the threshold of the drawing room. Harry looked - nervous?
Oh, bloody hell. "Harry?"
Potter started, and spun round. "Draco! I - are you OK? You look a bit pale."
Draco sighed. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. "Vampire, Potter. Pale sort of goes with the territory."
"Oh. Yeah. Well, I've been thinking about, you know - us, and, well..."
"Yes?" If Potter didn't get to the point soon Draco was going to have to bite him.
"I'd like to, um, give it a go. Us together, I mean. If you still want to, that is."
Yes! Inwardly, Draco was punching the air. Outwardly, of course, he was playing it a little cooler, as befitted a Malfoy. "Well, I was a little hurt that you seemed to need so much time to consider - "
Potter's face fell comically, and Draco relented.
"Of course I bloody want to, you idiot. Now come here and kiss me or I'll bleed your bloody veins dry!"
"Um, Draco? That's really not a very romantic thing to say, you know. Although - " Harry blushed. "When you bit Ron, it did look like he was, um, enjoying it, so maybe sometime we could, er -"
"Mmm, well now you mention it, I am feeling a little peckish..." He smiled, and drew Harry closer. "Of course, there are other things you could feed me as well."
Harry grinned. "Chocolates? Blueberry muffins?"
"Hm. Not precisely what I had in mind."
Harry grinned, and kissed him.
fin.
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Guilty as charged....
Date: 2008-07-01 03:22 am (UTC)But change is good....1/3 isn't bad at all. And this fic proved it.
Luvly!
Re: Guilty as charged....
Date: 2008-07-04 05:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-02 08:39 pm (UTC)Great work here :D
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Date: 2008-07-04 05:46 pm (UTC)Thanks for commenting! *g*
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Date: 2008-07-02 09:01 pm (UTC)That line made me laugh so hard! Quite a few lines did, actually. I enjoyed this fic very much. :D Thank you for writing and sharing!
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Date: 2008-07-04 05:47 pm (UTC)Sadly, I think Draco is probably right, there! ;D
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Date: 2008-07-03 06:56 am (UTC)OH.MY.
That phrase, as grossing or just not... *snickers*
You just made my day kudos to you darling honestly, this was brilliant!!
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Date: 2008-07-04 05:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-03 07:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-04 05:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-05 11:16 pm (UTC)nicely done ♥
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Date: 2008-08-09 07:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-09 05:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-09 07:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-15 12:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-15 07:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-07 11:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-15 10:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-07 12:40 pm (UTC)been stalking youread a few of your other stories over on insanejournal and I loved them, so I was extremely excited to find you over here as well. Your sense of humor and little side comments (Draco worried about being able to practice his smile in front of the mirror and being upset after learning that he couldn't turn into a bat) crack me up. I think you depict Draco's character flawlessly; you allow his arrogance to show through and yet his little quirks still make the reader adore him and his family. I have now added you as a friend, and I look forward to reading more! ^_^no subject
Date: 2008-10-15 10:34 am (UTC)So glad you've enjoyed my fic! :D
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Date: 2008-10-15 04:27 am (UTC)"I am not sulking, Father. I am mourning my lost love." Draco sighed dramatically. Draco's totally turning into Hamlet here, lol.
Lovely, fun fic to read. xD
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Date: 2008-10-15 11:09 am (UTC)*goes off to ponder whether Draco would be pleased or disgusted to be compared to Denmark's prince* ;D
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Date: 2008-11-11 10:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-12 12:14 am (UTC)I believe I picked up that particular phrase from Hugh Grant... *blushes*