Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and no money is being made from this. I'll put them back undamaged when I'm finished playing with them, I promise. I'll even give them a good scrub first.
Title: Do Vampires Cuddle?
Summary: Harry is bitten by a vampire at the start of his fifth year. After being given an experimental potion, he is given the all clear by the healers, but then finds he has unexpected urges. Urges which feature Draco Malfoy. Rated M for sexual situations, Harry/Draco slash, dub-con.
Warning: I have made the age of consent in the wizarding world 15, 2 years below the age of legal adulthood, which matches the equivalent difference between 16 and 18 in the Muggle world. This means they are not underage in their own jurisdiction, but they would be in ours. If you dislike this idea, then you would probably prefer not to read this story.
Harry's eyes flickered and closed as thin lips sucked at his throat, while he tried to ignore the taste of blood that lingered in his own mouth. He had tried to fight at first, struggling against the wiry arms that held him, but a hypnotic gaze had fixed his own and he had lost all sense of his own will. He had offered no resistance as a bony wrist had been pushed into his mouth and the skin ripped open against his teeth, allowing hot tangy blood to pour into his mouth and down his throat. And then jutting fangs had pierced the vein in his neck. There had been no pain, just the odd sensation of a mouth pressed against his skin, moving rhythmically as the vampire swallowed his blood, and a growing faintness. The bloody wrist was gone from his mouth now, and he was almost glad of the arms around him, supporting most of his weight as they pinned his arms to his sides. Without them he would slip to the floor. He doubted he would have the strength to crawl, let alone stand or try to escape. He stopped trying to lift his eyelids, and allowed them to drop completely. There was nothing he wanted to see anyway.
When the sounds of commotion started in the distance, he thought it was a dream at first, but it became louder and more distinct, with shouts and crashes. A magical fight perhaps? It was an idle thought, not connected with his own situation, until the door of the room smashed open and he was dropped unceremoniously onto the floor. The fight continued above him, until silence fell. Should he open his eyes? The idea seemed to take too much energy to consider, so he just lay still. Then arms around him again, words in a concerned voice, his name, repeated over and over. Whoever was holding him now wasn't going to just let him rest. He forced his eyes open and tried to focus. White hair and beard. Embroidered bright purple robes. Familiar voice. He patted one of the arms that were holding him up off the floor and murmured "'llo 'fessor Dm'ore"
"Hello Harry. I do apologise for the delay. I'm afraid it took us some time to locate this place. Here, drink this now" and with that, Dumbledore held a vial up to Harry's lips and tilted it so that he could drink the contents. Then the darkness closed around him again, and he was allowed to slip into sleep.
He awoke in the hospital wing, not for the first time, and allowed Madam Pomfrey to fuss over him until she was interrupted by Professor Dumbledore's arrival. Until then, Harry had managed to avoid thinking about what had happened to him, but the arrival of his rescuer brought it all back starkly.
"I'll have to leave the school, won't I?" he asked sadly. "I know how it works - he made me drink his blood while he took mine."
"Not necessarily, Harry. We were able to give you an experimental potion at once, and more while you slept. There has been little testing yet, but it is hoped that it may be effective when taken promptly. Since we got to you during the attack, it is very likely that it will at least ameliorate the effects. You will have to agree to regular visits to the hospital wing to allow us to monitor the situation though, and to attend St Mungo's if I ask it of you."
Harry agreed readily. Even the prospect of becoming a vampire had been less terrifying than the idea of having to leave the only true home he had ever known, to wander alone and friendless in the world.
After a few days, and a number of carefully-supervised visits from Ron and Hermione, Madam Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore were cautiously optimistic about his progress. He had shown no interest in biting anyone, been unaffected by the sight, smell, and even taste of blood, and continued to have a perfectly normal appetite for school food. A visit from one of the healers from St Mungo's confirmed that he showed no vampiric tendencies, though his senses had become a little more acute. But since that could be a side-effect of the potion, it was merely noted as an observation on his charts, and he was cleared to rejoin the school community.
One day followed another uneventfully once Harry returned to his dormitory and his classes. He attended the hospital wing from time to time to allow checks to be made, but no changes were seen. As a precaution, Professor Dumbledore recommended that he should spend the next full moon in the hospital wing with a healer standing by in case there were any difficulties, but again he showed no signs of any interest in blood, even when the healer opened a small cut in the back of her hand and encouraged Harry to taste it as a final test. The only change which had been apparent was that Harry reported a heightened awareness of his sense of smell. And so, after two nights in the hospital wing, the decision was taken to clear Harry to return to his classes, and he slipped quietly into Charms beside Ron and Hermione, quietly reassuring them that he was fine.
He sat through a Potions class next, which neither Ron nor Hermione were taking. The lingering smell of potions in the classroom hit him as never before, with wafts drifting past him as students moved around, and it took all his efforts to concentrate on the lesson. Finally they were finished. Draco Malfoy was one of the last to come to the front of the class to hand in his finished potion and as he walked past, Harry was startled by the most delicious scent he had ever encountered. It faded as Draco continued to the front of the class, and then was renewed as he returned. He sat open-mouthed. How had he never noticed it before? Draco smelt gorgeous! He closed his eyes to focus his whole attention on the scent and how it made him feel. The trouble was, he wasn't at all sure how he did feel, beyond the fact that he wanted more of it, much more, as quickly as possible.
The classroom was emptying now, and he hurried to cram his books and quills into his bag in order to leave the room immediately behind Malfoy. Once they were in the corridor, he made his move. "Malfoy, could I have a word with you?" Draco looked startled at the request, it was definitely not normal for Potter to want to speak to him.
But the very unexpectedness made him pause as the final students filed past them on their way to the library or their common rooms until dinner.
"Please Draco, I need to speak to you. But not here. Can we go somewhere more private?"
"Yeah right Potter, like I'm going to have some private little chat with you!"
Harry closed his eyes. How could he convince Malfoy that this wasn't some kind of trick? That intoxicating scent filled his nostrils and he felt a sudden clarity. He opened his eyes again and fixed them directly on Draco's, his thoughts all focussed on reassuring the other boy of his sincerity.
"You can trust me, I don't mean you any harm." Harry could almost hear an echo in his own voice as he said this, as though it carried more weight than the words alone.
Certainly some combination of the eye contact and the sincere words and tone seemed to convince Malfoy, as he replied rather thickly "All right. Where? An empty classroom?"
"No, I have somewhere more comfortable in mind" And with that he led Malfoy to the corridor on the third floor, and paced in front of the tapestry of Bartholomew the Barmy until a doorway appeared in the wall opposite.
As he entered the room, Harry blushed. He would have said that he had nothing particular in mind for this time alone with Draco, but the Room of Requirement had put its own interpretation on his desire for 'somewhere comfortable to be alone together' and provided a large and luxurious bedroom. Fortunately it had provided a heavy leather-covered couch as well as the four-poster bed, and it was to this that he led a somewhat startled-looking Malfoy.
They sat at a respectable distance apart, and Harry fidgeted with the edge of his robe as he wondered what to say. Fortunately Draco still seemed prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt, and was quietly waiting for him to start the conversation rather than demanding an explanation or storming off. The idea formed in Harry's mind that the two of them could so easily have been friends, if they had got off on a better footing back when they had first met. Aside from obvious failings like being in Slytherin, which could be blamed on his father, and his abrasive manner, which Harry suddenly saw as a form of protection from the world, Draco could be an interesting person to be around. He was intelligent, hard-working when he saw the benefit, and loyal to his friends. He was also beautiful. And smelt like a hay field on a baking hot afternoon, mixed with sweet peas and a hint of spice. Was it cinnamon? Harry wasn't too sure of the name, but he'd tasted it with sugar on the top of a bun once, and he had licked it off and concluded it was the most delicious flavour in the world.
A lump formed in his throat as he realised that what he wanted to do, more than anything, was to lick Draco Malfoy to find the source of that wonderful aroma. And if he had to remove every stitch of clothing from that beautiful skin in the process, then so much the better.
"Draco..." he coughed and tried again, his voice a little more steady this time. "Draco, do you ever wonder what would have happened if you and I hadn't fallen out almost as soon as we met?"
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting we should wipe out four years of history and swear to be best friends forever? Is that what this is about?"
Harry fidgeted some more, then closed his eyes. That made concentrating so much easier. His head was full of that scent, and of his urgent and growing need to get closer to the source. Options flickered rapidly through his thoughts and were discarded, leaving only one. It was perfectly simple. He and Draco should have been close, it was just a matter of convincing Draco of that, and he had already found that he could convince Draco to do something which he would never normally have agreed to. It just needed a look, and a tone, and his utter sincerity in what he said.
He opened his eyes again and looked directly into Draco's face then said, with that odd echo his voice had attained before "Draco, what I want isn't to be friends. I want more than that, so very much more. You are the most beautiful, most desirable person I have ever met, and I want for us to be close...physically close..." He slid along the couch until his thigh pressed up against Malfoy's. "I want to touch you, to kiss you, to feel your skin against mine. I promise I don't mean to hurt you in any way. I want you to be happy with everything I do. Will you let me Draco? Will you let me be so close to you, and make you happy? Will you trust me?"
Draco's eyes hadn't left his the whole time he was speaking, his gaze intense though a little unfocused, his breathing quick and shallow, a pulse beating visibly through the delicate white skin of his neck. Harry forced himself to keep his attention on Draco's face, though his senses were screaming a response to the physical changes in the other boy. Part of him wanted to simply overpower Malfoy, grab him, pin him down onto the couch and... and what exactly? He still didn't know just what he wanted to do - it was a visceral hunger, a need that ran through his whole body, but his imagination wasn't filling in any detail of how to satisfy it, beyond the fact that it involved skin and his mouth and two racing heartbeats pounding out a rhythm. He would simply have to improvise and hope that they could find an answer that pleased them both. His tone and look of sincerity were easy, there was no need to fake the way he felt. He genuinely wanted Malfoy to enjoy whatever they did here together, he had no need to lie about it.
The blond boy finally spoke. "I... trust you Harry"