Summary; "So untried – if only I could have you completely!" the man throatily grunted, pushing his body hard against that of the youths. Draco Malfoy, Resistance Vampire and merciless killer is sent on a mission to fall an enemy. What he acquires on said mission is much more then he bargained for.
Like the mourning whispered breath of a graveyard, the wind rattled through the night; sweeping great trees to yield and bend at its very caress, whistling over the roof of a grand stone building it coiled into the night sky, such an ostentatious dwelling was house and home to James Potter and his son.
The night was chilly, bitter cold with the winter months lingering over head in the heavy rain clouds, the night threatened snow.
The small neighborhood of Hogsmead was quiet, near silent and dark with the shadows of nighttime; very little luminosity could be seen from within houses.
A tall man wrapped in a cocoon of thick travelling robes walked swiftly and silently down the cobbled street his boots slapped against the mildewed and frosted ground with not a resonance, his face was hidden by the bow of a neck and the shield of blond hair that fell about his jaw.
His bloodless lips were pressed in a thin line of concentration, his brows pinched in waiting; in deep thought of his soon to come actions.
He reached the porch of the grand manor, the largest abode in the neighborhood. His hands were curled into fists, bunched into the pockets of his robes, he released them and touched the oak front door with his palm, and a simple word whispered with a breath coaxed the latch to break, to snap like a twig stamped upon.
"Open."
The man stepped inside, over the threshold of the door and into a dimly lit parlor. Few torches spluttered in high brackets on the walls, licking at the stone and casting dancing shadows through out the parlor.
The house was quiet – or so Draco Malfoy thought until the faintest noise sparked to life in his over sensitive ears.
A rustle of fabric and a smothered gasp was followed by a choked moan.
The hem of his robes trailed across the polished stairs as with one hasty, insanely quick movement he ascended the staircase.
From the part in the partially closed door of the master bedroom shone orange light, flooding out into the large hallway and travelling across the ground to lighten Draco Malfoy's boots with a splash of bright colour.
Sound came from within the room – sounds that the man wasn't certain he should have witnessed in the realm of night's hours, not in such a home anyway.
Small squeaks of stifled moans, the hushing whisper of a throaty voice, subduing the outburst – soft sighs and guttural moans drifted from the confines of the room.
Curiosity got the better of him, and slowly with silence he leaned forwards; peering into the shadow cast room.
There on a bed of satin sheets and ruby red blankets were the inhabitants of the house, the man's grey eye widened when he realized the exact position of the two males in the center of the four poster bed.
A tangle of limbs and sheets assaulted his eyes, burning torches lined the walls of the lavishly decorated room and casted firelight over the area, shadows of the flames flickered on the walls, dancing and moving in such a way they could be mimicking the actions going on in the bed. A man, lean and obviously tall even in his current position of lying down, was stationed above a gasping; mewling man – no not a man, he was but a boy, barely out of his youth; no more then seventeen summers old.
The two were moving against one another, naked save for the glow of firelight that flushed against their skin, blanketing them in warmth and causing blushed cheeks from the increasing heat.
The elder man's dark hair was ruffled, held messily in the bunched palms of the boy, whose eyes were half lidded, his blood red lips gaped and with each gasp he breathed they would part further, deliciously so a pink tongue would dart out, to lick at the kiss swollen lips.
The boys' legs were wrapped tightly around the man's waist; his slim thighs clamped against the man's hipbones, chest to chest they were – so close their hips that pushed together to find that delectable friction and their roaming hands were hard to discern from the mass of skin and movement.
The youth was a virgin it didn't take Draco much to figure that out, the way his kisses were inexperienced – wet and open mouthed, his tongue needed training for with each kiss the two shared the boy would add far too much tongue, needful as he was for more – his hands were tentative, soft touches were placed with the gentleness of naive curiosity, however while he may have been timid he was also brazen with adolescence.
The silent watcher could not find his strength to look away, to avert his eyes from the scene. His robes were pulled tight around his torso, clasped at his chest; his hands fisted the material until his knuckles were white – willing his body to obey his silent command not to react to the lustful sight.
The smell of sex lingered heavily in the air, the heady scent of a sweet smelling liquid filled Draco's senses; it had an underlying acidic stench to it that made the man suspicious.
A whimper – soft and needful and completely too sinfully innocent sounded and grey eyes snapped to look at the young beauty hidden under his elder lover, Draco Malfoy knew who unerringly the child's lover was, and doubted very much such an act would ever commence between the two without the use of a drug of some sort – a remedy to render the child incapable of refusing – the sweet scent that coated every inch of the room was not sented oil or cologne, it was the scent of a perverse drug – a drug that willed compliance.
Draco's eyes flared with anger, glowing near blue.
"So untried – if only I could have you completely!" the man throatily grunted, pushing his body hard against that of the youths, it elicited a drawn out moan of lust to escape from the boys' throat; and it appeared to Draco that the slight press of palms against the elders shoulders was more then a futile attempt to get closer, to get more, to touch – it was an endeavor to refuse, to resist and fight the drug that so easily assured his compliance.
The man moaned, humming deeply as he ran his fingers through the boys' ebony locks, bunching the hair in his fist he pulled, tugged sharply, "come!" he commanded and the tone was so surprisingly forceful.
The youth twisted his head back abruptly at an angle that would have been painful had the throb of orgasm not been claiming his diminutive body; pounding through his veins and bubbling in his stomach. Parted lips gasped in frozen ecstasy and delicate hands twisted fistfuls of the sheets into the boys' palms. Draco watched fascinated as the boy's half lidded eyes dropped shut and then open in slow succession; emerald jewels of green passion were startling in contrast to the pale milky skin and ebony hair.
A grunted curse word was the only evidence of the eldest males coming orgasm, creamy, viscous essence was spilled so carelessly onto the flat of the boys' stomach, marring his innocent beauty.
Draco reached ever so carefully into his robes, his fingers closed around the cold handle of a knife and he withdrew it slowly; not wanting to be discovered.
The older man shifted to move away from the youth, removing his body that had acted like a shield of flesh – shying the child's naked form from Draco's eyes, now he could see without hindrance the boy fully but he looked only at the boys' face, his cheeks that were rosy from his sudden climax and his thoroughly bitten lips.
The nod of the boys' head spoke more of a drugged child then it did a spent partner and Draco was not hesitant to complete the mission his mistress had requested of him now knowing what the eldest Potter was proficient of doing.
James potter lightly caressed his son's abdomen, his nails scrapped over the subtle flesh; "true beauty is rare, Harrison –" he spoke softly, a calm tone that clashed with the obvious flame of fierce arousal that flickered to life in his eyes.
"Such a precious gift you are, you're mother would have been proud my boy!"
Draco near snorted his incredulity at such an absurd statement. No mother would be proud of a father using his very flesh and blood – his kin as no more than a toy of pleasure, no more than an object to get off over.
The boy, Harrison, was evidently in concord with Draco's trail of thought. His small fingers circled his fathers' fingers; pushing and pulling at the caressing hand to remove it from his belly, a whimper of agony fell from bruised lips, for it was ineffective to defy the pull of such a drug designed to make one submit utterly.
James removed his hand from his sons' skin, moving instead to cup the boys' jaw within a firm hand.
Harrison muttered disjointed words and tossed his head to the side as a horse would toss its mane in agitation. James would have none of that and gripped Harrisons' chin, bringing the child's head to face him.
"Be a good boy now," he crooned, leering when Harrison made an attempt to knee him where it hurts.
"Or I'll have to punish you!" James finished, his free hand restrained the boys' right leg, holding it down into the mattress by the knee. All too easily the youth gave up any defiance and slumped into the sheets, his large eyes blinked once before he lowered his eyelashes in a show of obedience. The room was picture still, frozen while James studied his son with narrowed eyes.
All it took was one simple movement to enter the room, to shatter the depleted stillness. Draco pushed the bedroom door back with a forceful slam of his palm against the grainy wood. The hinges held, if narrowly and the door echoed it's opening off the stone wall like a gunshot in the dead of night.
The two males startled in shock and confusion. The elder of the two was quick to his feet, his hazel eyes ablaze with wrath, of all emotions. The youth however tapped his finger tips against his bare chest, his head lolled back and forth but try as he might he could not wrestle the effects the drug had on him – holding him in a enforced submission, binding his body with liquid poison. The only indication the boy was discreetly coherent was the widened almond eyes; blown pupils stared hauntingly at Draco's robed figure, not swaying in their intense examination.
Draco looked away from the child when a sudden movement caught his eye; James yanked the crimson sheet around his middle, glowering at the lithe man before him.
"Who sent you?" he all but hissed and Draco was amused to feel the fear the man had; it crackled against his skin like static electricity and burned his bones. How he loved mortals horror of looming death.
Taking his time Draco took three slow, deliberate steps towards the large bed; towards James Potter.
"Evans." There really was no point in hiding it; the man would be dead all too soon. James blanched at the spoken name of the most feared woman – or more respectively – vampire.
"Why," James demanded, "– why does she wish me dead?"
"It's nothing special, I assure you. You're simply disposable, very wealthy and highly looked upon but an arrogant jerk nonetheless."
James looked momentarily confused, "you were sent here to kill me because I am rich and held in high regard?" he questioned, bunching the sheets fabric tightly in his hands. He was nervous, Draco was aware of this.
The vampire flexed his hands and rolled his shoulders; he didn't desire to inform the man of why his death was upon him. They always questioned why they were to die – his victims that is. They always deserved such an end.
"That and the fact you insist on hunting every single vampire that lives. We do not take kindly to being decapitated, pursued and slaughtered like some worthless animals." Draco snarled, curling his upper lip to reveal pearly, sharp fangs.
Humans never understood how inferior they were towards vampires.
"You kill mercilessly; you are monsters – creatures of darkness, all of you. You deserve death, deserve punishment!" James bellowed; the mortal moved quickly towards the dresser, where a sword was stationed beside conveniently, Draco was no vampire of senselessness and was prompt to react.
A breath passed with a sigh of wind and James was rammed against the wall, a pale hand wrapped around his neck; applying pressure just so, that his wind pipe was crushed little by little. The man gasped, his hands clawing at the vampires wrist; punching, hitting, doing anything for just one mouthful of air.
"You speak so poorly of vampires, James." Draco said, his cold eyes staring into panicked hazel, "but she is one, isn't she? Your wife," a pregnant pause, "beg my pardon," Draco breathed "ex-wife – Lily, she is fair and beautiful. Not a monster James, is she?"
James spluttered, stammering for a response but lack of oxygen prevented the sniveling reply Draco desired little to hear.
Draco tightened his fingers, pressing the heel of his hand into the man's neck even harder; James' eyes were wide, his lips opened and closed and his skin turned ashen.
"By your orders she is hunted, James. By your command, Lily is sought after to be bled dry of her lifeblood, killed, murdered and all because she left you! You arrogant bastard! She is the mother of your child you so sickeningly use for your own perverted pleasure." Draco smashed his hand against the pulsing neck, the sound of a fleeting heartbeat – of a pounding heart thumping loudly against ribs roared in his ears. James Potter choked; no air he could breathe.
"Dad – what –" Draco paused in his ministrations, turning his head to look at the youth on the bed. Harrison struggled to sit up, to shake away the induced submission and return his mind to coherence. His hands twisted in the covers as he looked upon the sight of his fraught father and Draco with large, startled eyes.
A tremble of the boys' lower lip was all Draco cared to see before he directed his full attention on James.
"Fear death, James Potter," he said in a too soft voice; "for you're afterlife shall be torture you want not!"
Hazel eyes dimmed and the sounds of death ceased just as a last fluttering heartbeat stilled into nothingness.
With a final pressure of his hand Draco crushed the man's windpipe, and James Potter was dead, his body lax in Draco's steady grip.
With a sneer of disgust, Draco released James Potter, watching with no emotion when the man fell to the floorboards in a heap of limp limbs.
The blond's attention was captured by the whimper of Harrison, quiet, reserve but loud within the deathly silence of the room.
"Y- you killed – you killed him." the diminutive boy whispered, his palm covering his lips in shock and just as before the fierce static burned at Draco's skin; tingling against his sensitive flesh.
Moving gracefully and slowly so not to make the youth uncomfortable, Draco approached the bed, "do not fear me, Harrison, I am not here to harm you – it was your father that I was informed to rend incapable of murdering any more vampires. You're safe in my company."
With sure movements the man sat down on the bed. Harrison shifted away slightly; his pale skin flamed with torch light; still heated from his forced intimacy.
"Who – who ordered you to," he swallowed hard and Draco noted the nervous biting of the boys' lower lip, "to – kill him?"
Leaning forward toward Harrison, Draco placed a hand to the boy's wrist – Harrison's pulse jumped and fear crawled against Draco's skin – he didn't remove his hand however, he was aware he couldn't leave the child alone in the manner, devoid of any company to look after him.
Emerald jewel like eyes defiantly stared at Draco – the boy was the picture of bravery, it was all an illusion of teenage bravado, Draco could sense the fright, the panic from the increasing heartbeat that sounded loud in his ears like a mantra.
"My mistress sent me here tonight; does that answer your question?"
Harrison frowned and shook his head slowly.
"That's too bad I'm afraid." Draco would not go into detail; he knew the boy couldn't handle much more tonight, especially with the drug that simmered in his blood.
"I have to get you out of here. Please don't resist, it'll make it easy on both of us that way." Draco was blunt and to the point. It wouldn't help to dance around what needed to be done. And as much as he would prefer not to have the hassle of escorting the boy some place safe, untimely it was his actions that had left Harrison confused, frightened and father-less.
The joy of being a Resistance Vampire!