Disclaimer: I make no claim to any of this other than writing down the words, most of which other people made up. No money is being made with this writing; but if you wish to sue me you have a choice: the button or the tissue?
P.s: If you don't know who made up the characters that I like to play with then you do not deserve to live-J.K Rowling is a Goddess among writers- she just has an unfortunate tendency to cater to all age groups.
Warnings: Language; Sensual situations; (Under-Age) Alcohol Usage
A/N: This work may contain scenes that could be perceived as slash if this offends then please refrain from comment. I am unsure of ratings but believe you could find worse in the 'Teen-Fiction' shelves of your local library and I will use the 'fade-out' if they decide to get frisky, prior clothing being removed; Romance is not the point of this fic!
Word count: 1,770words prior to additions.
Chapter one: Hunting
The alleyways of Wizarding London are the place to be. Bodies grinding in that orgy we like to term dance. Firewiskey at 3 Sickles a shot. The further you go down those winding paths the more risqué the scenes will become.
Vite Alley is the place to be on a Friday night. Drinking establishments as far as the eye cares to see.
It was here that Harry Potter spent the night after his sixteenth birthday. But he was not the Harry Potter that the Papers were now so fond of, again, or the one who attended Hogwarts. Nor was he even The-Boy-Who-Lived. No.
He was Harry James Potter. Head of House Evans, a Family of Born Vampires.
Harry Potter was a Vampire, and he was here to hunt.
He'd dressed to the nines tonight. Leather trousers that clung just a little too tight in all the right places; Dragon Hide ankle boots; Midnight blue tank-top that had little enough fabric that it hardly qualified as clothing and to top it all of a Glamour to hid those tell-tale AK green eyes: matching them to the shirt and natural blue highlights of his hair.
Not that the Glamour was actually needed. In his true form he looked different enough that even his 'best friends' wouldn't actually recognise him but then again, nor would his cousins 'gang' recognise Dudley, not tonight.
No, Dudley was right there with him searching for the perfect prey for them to sate their hungers upon. Harry knew from experience that he and his cousin made quite the sight. While his cousin didn't quite come up to his own standards, he was close. Dudley Dursley was in many ways his cousins opposite. Where Harry was fair, Dudley was tanned. Dark-hair; light-hair. Lean; muscled. Muscled was definitely Dudley's defining trait. He was built in the manner defined by heavyweight fighters across the globe.
Many of the young men and women they had encountered tonight were acceptable, and all were magical. But tonight they were looking for something special.
That something had just walked into the club they were currently entertaining themselves in.
That someone was Draco Malfoy.
With all of what his alternate persona had to put up with from the other boy, he was perfect.
Signalling Dudley that the hunt was on he moved his dance in that direction.
It had to have been one of Malfoy's first nights on the town as even at the early hour he was far more inebriated than the average reveller, though this end of the Alley was harsher than the others on age restrictions; he must have pulled every card he held as acting head of the Malfoy family just to get in.
Life was hard on those unable to use 'Natural'- a.k.a impenetrable- Glamour to get past bouncers. How he would have drunk his fill these past few years without the club scene; he hated to even think about it. Puberty was after all the time when his kinds hunger was strongest. Building beforehand, the hunger remained constant for the Born Vampires developing years- usually between 13 and 25- and then began to lessen with age, with some of the vampires nearing the ends of their existence going months or even years between feeds.
Draco Malfoy moved well, he was forced to admit if only to himself.
As he stepped up to the blond, the music changed seamlessly to a track with a more earthly beat. The base of song controlling was their bodies as they moved together. The dance praising flesh and carnality as they gave of themselves to the drums.
Malfoy was different without his inhibitions. His hair was no longer in that greased back style he seemed so fond of in school but hung loose at the back, brushing his shoulders. His eyes, so often narrowed in either contempt or concentration-in Harry's experience-, were wide, pupils dilated. No changes to his clothing were obvious, besides those one would expect from any club goer, they were of the same high quality Wizarding Labels the blond so often wore.
They moved together through several tracks before Harry felt the urge to truly get down to business.
Moving up behind him, Harry made motion to get drinks. Having been in regularly he knew they could then go up to the usually empty balcony on the east side and so led the way there after the two of them had partaken in Ogden's Special Brew- a medium-low quality, high alcohol whiskey that the cognisor felt no objection to shot-ing. It would be an offence to most Whiskey but this one was designed for the purpose.
The night's air was cool on their faces after the heat of the club. They had barely gotten out the doors when Malfoy started to pin himself to Harry's chest and take residence in his mouth. That was more than good for Harry: providing both a good cover for what was about to happen and a bit of extra fun besides; Malfoy certainly wasn't ugly.
Harry then maneuverer them to the wall, pressing Malfoy forcefully against it as he began to take him under his power, closing his mind off from anything but the sense of pleasure he feed into him as he plunged his fangs into that white expanse of neck.
As the blood went down his throat nothing mattered. Not being responsible for a Family over two hundred strong. Not the politics of the three worlds he straddled. All of it washed away in the feel of the rich fluid striking his pallet.
Having drunk blood since the day he was born, he could say that Draco Malfoy was one of the finer sources on the planet. Highly Magical blood presented in a delightful package, it tingled in the back of his throat with that power and a hint of the alcohol just giving to the sensation.
As he pulled back he kissed his evening meal on the forehead and double checked his memory for inappropriate content, leaving Malfoy with the feelings of the attack but no true memory of the events. 'This should be interesting,' Harry thought, 'let's see what he makes of it.'
Leaving the balcony to enter the club his eyes sought out his cousin. Catching his eye he smirked, for some reason Dudley had gone for the eldest woman in the room; he always did have some odd tastes.
Getting outside he moved towards a quieter part of the alley and shimmered out.
Harry arrived back in the play park near Privet Drive and gave his double for the day his leave. It was always best to give the order something to watch, kept them from getting into anything they shouldn't be aware of. And a sunrise run and evening walk were a perfect cover for his activities allowing him and a Glamoured double to exchange places; he was out getting a spot of exercise, after all Muggles considered hunting a sport didn't they?
The short walk was uneventful. Mrs Figg's newest cat followed him part of the way; curtains twitched.
When he reached Tonks' hiding position he gave a little wave. She was perched under a bush. Her hair was the same pink as the flowers it had in the early spring, unfortunately for her those she was attempting to blend into were wilted in the sun to such an extent her usual fluorescents would not have made much difference in her noticeability.
Tonks never acknowledged his presence overly much; it seemed since his removal from the rota that she had taken Dung's place as poorest surveillance 'expert'. It could be possible that she just didn't care all that much about keeping him penned in, as was the guards' purpose, especially as she would always notice his comings and goings, just never really report them. That left him to think; possibly he could test her on this, while her metamorphic abilities were of no use to him beyond that of any of his peoples Natural Glamour abilities, she was a Black by blood if not name. Since Sirius' death those weeks ago, that made her his as much as any Evans.
Just in case he put on a nice fearful expression as he faked slipping through the front door, quietly closing it behind him. He then hit the tape recording of his Uncle verbally abusing him for waking him at an un-Godly hour of the morning, as if Vernon would dare.
As he walked up the stairs to his bedroom here he grabbed the letters Hedwig had delivered, making little effort to read them before using his Magic to burn them. They were just the same drivel he normally received, a copy of his last letters could be sent, and he'd just have to ensure they received a different draft than last time – not that anything other than a few words were different.
Then he glanced out a window confirming that his owl wasn't about, she was just another means for them to monitor him after all, and stepped through a wall to the side of his bed, back to the Evans Family Estate, Devonshire. It truly was his Family's home.
Draco lay back on his bed staring into the canopy. Last night had been his first night unescorted in Vite Alley. He'd partied until the dawn hours, using his new position as Acting-Lord of House Malfoy to gain entry to places his age previously barred him from. There were some disadvantages to being from such a well know House after all.
His Father could do little to control his actions now that he had been caught red handed, or black robed, in the face of the Minister himself. Even Fudge was not that closed minded.
His experience on the balcony drifted back through his recently potion cleared mind. He was unsure exactly what had happened. For good or bad he'd allowed it. It, his more awake mind asked but his tiered body won out and he drifted off to sleep.