.: Twelve :.
COURTSHIP DANCE
The sky above was dark, thick with clouds that eagerly swallowed the stars like a tide devouring the shoreline. The moon, however, shone glaringly through its frame of darkness, making itself seen from behind the clouds determinedly. The night itself was calm but cold and Harry pulled his cloak tight around himself as a sharp breeze ripped through him. This cloak had been a gift from Remus when he'd first moved in with them - it was charmed to adjust its warmth according to the environment. So now, it was as warm as snuggling under a duvet. He smiled sadly. He missed Remus and Tonks, and even little Teddy, who he loved but wasn't entirely sure of.
"Chop chop, Harry," Draco said from beside him. His own, lighter cloak was swept back off his body, leaving the moonlight to catch on his crisp white shirt and milky skin. Harry could not help but feel his eyes linger on the slither of chest visible at the top of that shirt. He shivered, but not from the cold. Draco looked the same to him as he always did, but to everyone that looked, they would simply see an ordinary looking boy with sandy hair, at about Harry's age. Harry himself had opted to stay visible as Harry Potter to the public, it was sort of necessary to his plan…
They walked the path down to the front gates, which was illuminated with hundreds of floating bluish lights. Like fireflies in the night. Eighth years and teachers could come and go as they pleased of a weekend, and so the gates were often lit up and of course, the transportation was waiting for them. A cluster of carriages stood by the gate, the very same that carried them into school at the start of term. The ones pulled by thestrals. "I suppose you can see them now, the thestrals?" Harry asked as he and Draco moved towards one of the nearest carriages. Draco had seen death now, after all.
"I saw them at the start of term," Draco said flippantly, holding open the carriage door for Harry to get in first.
Harry started at that, not certain how to take the chivalry. In the end, he climbed into the carriage regardless. "This isn't a date, Draco; you don't have to be so–"
"Considerate? Date or not, I want you, I intend to show you what you're missing."
Harry glared at him as the blond climbed into the carriage after him, taking a seat opposite him and carefully arranging himself so that his knees and feet touched Harry's. Harry glanced quickly out of the window. Why was such a simple touch making his heart pound rapidly? The carriage jerked into motion and Harry felt Draco take the opportunity to graze the side of his ankle with his foot distantly. It reminded Harry of their 'footsie' session in that detention with Professor Alaric and it brought a tinge of heat to his cheeks.
"Never, err, realised how…cosy these carriages were," Harry murmured, trying to break the silence in an attempt to get that unfathomable gaze off of him. It didn't work.
"I'm making you nervous again, aren't I?" Draco smirked.
"You wish," Harry snapped, none of the bite he wished was present reaching his lips. He just sounded like an awkward blushing virgin. It was warm in the carriage now and he shrugged off his cloak, unable to escape noticing the way Draco's eyes roved his body. His heart was thudding faster now. Why had he agreed to this again?
"Don't get yourself so worked up," Draco murmured huskily, leaning forwards to rest his hands on Harry's knees. "We've done more risqué things than share a carriage, Harry."
Harry could see right down his shirt from this angle. He couldn't help but imagine what it would feel like to touch it, to do all the things he'd dreamt of being done to him. Oh Merlin, he thought. I definitely do fancy blokes. Or perhaps just the idea of sex in general. Draco had left him hanging last time, his body was being wound up even more easily, craving the release it had been denied. His lips parted and a soft exhalation of hot air whispered out into the air between them. At that, Draco leant in closer, as if longing to catch it on his tongue. Those long, dextrous fingers slithered up his tense thighs.
"Must you grope me every time we're within five inches of each other?" Harry panted, sounding far from inconvenienced.
"Tell me to stop and I will," Draco all-but purred. "It's not as if I'm doing something you dislike, now is it?"
"Arrogant arse," Harry growled out through clenched teeth. Draco knew exactly how much he wanted this, and also how much he didn't want to surrender to that at the same time. The subtle rocking of the carriage and the flashes of moonlight through the window reminded him where they were, just where Draco was seducing him. It helped, despite the close, intimate dimness of the setting. He couldn't lose control regardless, but he most certainly couldn't afford to in an unstable environment. There wouldn't be a repeat of the incident in Alaric's office again.
But then, suddenly, Draco was on his knees on the floor, sliding between his legs which tensed as those hands caressed their full length now. Harry gasped, he couldn't help himself, even with his own hands now on Draco's shoulders, trying in vain to push him away. Draco bowed his head to rest it against Harry's stomach. He exhaled softly.
It struck him as odd that the blond was on his knees in front of him and not in the least bit bothered by his position. He doesn't feel subservient or dominated, Harry realised, he's so confident. He still has the power, even if he is physically lower. He closed his eyes. Yet again, nothing was making sense, and Draco wasn't even touching him really. I reckon that means him and Hermione were right then, he thought dazedly, just as one of those conniving hands began tugging his shirt up to reveal the taut plains of his stomach. He groaned, his hands tightening on Draco's shoulders.
"Wh-What are you-?" He couldn't quite form words, or remember even where to start.
Draco tore his lips away then to glance up at him with a devilish smirk. He leant up on his knees, bringing their mouths dangerously close together. "Let me show you how the men play, Harry," Draco breathed, his hands reaching forward to open Harry's belt.
"Sex before the date has even started?" Harry panted, "what bad manners."
"I thought that this wasn't a date?" Draco replied. He seized Harry roughly and yanked him forwards until he tumbled onto his lap and rested his lips against the flushed shell of Harry's ear.
"Don't tell me you're still confused," the vampire breathed, "Because from here it seems crystal clear."
Harry's expression of blissful abandonment merged into a glare then. What if I fall for him? He asked himself. What if I do, his feelings still only came about because he is a vampire and I am his first. He winced. It wasn't unlike the event of a prisoner falling for their captor. Draco was only with him because he had no other choice, not because he had chosen him of his own free will.
"Sorry," Harry mumbled out through clenched teeth, his innards twisting in negation as he struggled backwards out of Draco's embrace. He slumped into the seat he had previously occupied, staring determinedly out of the window even as his cheeks burned from the remaining lust.
"You're sorry?" Draco repeated in near disbelief, taking the seat opposite Harry again. "So you should be. You're making my head ache with this hot and cold attitude. You've admitted that you like how I make you feel, that those feelings are your own. What more is there to hold you back now?"
Harry grit his teeth harder, fighting the temptation to just give in to the persuasive drawl of Draco's voice. How simple life would be, if all he had to worry about was if this man liked him or not. But that was not all that was at stake here. He couldn't bear it if he fell for him, only to end up alone and lumbered with guilt because he had known Draco's feelings didn't stem from a place in his heart, but from the unfortunate circumstances they found themselves in.
He's a prisoner of this life, Harry thought wretchedly, and I am his only opportunity at feeling these things, of course he would grasp at me, see beauty and kindness and love if he is forbidden by his very nature from finding that elsewhere. The thought made him feel quite sick, that Draco was being forced to sleep with him simply because he was his only choice. His eyes stung treacherously.
"I just still can't be sure that your feelings are your own, and not just your instincts preventing you from seeking anything better – what you really want," Harry murmured distantly. His fingers clenched into the leg of his trousers. "Look, you have to admit it's a bit suspicious? I'm everything you hate. I'm a scrawny, unkempt, bespectacled, short half-blood, why would you want me unless circumstance dictated that I was your only choice?"
A deep, rumbling growl filled the carriage, and Harry's head shot round to see Draco's eyes glowing ominously in the dimness, his face twisted with rage.
"That is the most sickening, offensive thing I have ever heard anyone say to me," Draco snapped, his voice low and dangerous. "I'm a vampire, does that mean I cannot feel the same as you? Will I not bleed if you cut me? Does your Lupin know how to love? To Bleed? He's just a monster as I, isn't he? Does that mean that any feeling he has for his wife is all because of his animalistic urges? If he was able to successfully breed with her that must mean she was his mate, does that mean that his love for her comes solely from his instincts? Are his feelings meaningless, like mine?"
Harry just stared at him, his mouth agape. Not only because he had dragged examples into their argument that Harry struggled to argue with, but also because by comparing them both to Remus and Tonks, Draco had implied that his feelings were deeper than Harry had expected them to be.
This is worse than I thought, he winced, clawing at his own leg now. If he is forced to love me, that is the most unbearable thing I can imagine.
"I never said you were incapable of love, you prat," Harry growled back firmly, "I'm just saying that any feelings you have for me are irrational, against the very fibre of who you used to be. I cannot believe that all the hate you once had for everything I am has just gone away and turned to love, those feelings don't just come out of thin air."
Draco scowled. "You missed your own point there, Potter. Used to be. I had not been the boy that hated you for a long time before we experienced that twist of fate in the dungeon. Surely you of all people can believe that a man can change? I am a completely different person to who I was a few years ago. And how many times must I say this?! My feelings for you have been growing ever since you saved my bloody skin back in those dungeons."
The blond winced at the memory of that night and glanced away, as if meeting Harry's eyes whilst speaking of that event caused him physical pain. Harry sighed. "I just… I'm not attractive or clever or particularly talented. And it's quite clear you don't care for my fame, I have nothing to offer you, nothing that would attract you. I can't believe someone like you would want me. Draco, be reasonable, you know that these feelings only surfaced after you bit me."
His voice was careful, imploring Draco to agree, whilst his inner voice was screaming at the top of its lungs for Draco to ignore him. The first person that has ever made you feel alive, and you are shoving him away with every thing that is in you, the Malfoy-sounding voice hissed. Would it be so bad to lay back and enjoy being loved for once in your life? Being cared for?
It would be, Harry argued with himself, if the only reason he loved me was because of something other than his own heart. I don't want to fall for him, only to be hurt because his feelings aren't real. I won't fall so eagerly into that trap.
"Someone like me? And just what is that?" Draco seethed, "Who are you to judge whether my feelings are real or not? To insinuate that I would settle for anything but what I believe is the best just because circumstance says I should? You think so little of me that you think I would allow who I choose to be dictated to me by instinct and magic?"
Harry frowned. "Don't turn this around on me. I'm just trying to be honest. I was more insulting to myself than you. I just don't want to be with someone who is only with me because they had no other choice."
"Oh, is that all?" Draco replied shortly. "You thick-headed little Gryffindor. I knew I was right when I said you'd always find an excuse to run from me. I don't care what you say, Potter, you're just trying to find justifications for feelings you can't hope to comprehend. Depths of emotions so intense that they terrify you. I am trying to get closer to you, to show you how to live and to live with you – is that so bloody unbelievable? Is the fact that Draco Malfoy feels anything so strange an occurrence that it can only come from supernatural means?"
Harry grinded his teeth together furiously. "You're taking everything the wrong way–"
"And what other way is there to take it?" Draco snarled, "That I am too simple to realise what are my true feelings and what are merely influences from my vampire urges? I'm intelligent enough to realise that I want you. I've told you before, as a man and as a vampire. You argue that it is the situation that has made me want you but then any human can argue that. Perhaps your werewolf only fell for his wife because of the situation the war put them in, because they were both in that Order of the Phoenix. Does that make their feelings any less real?!"
Harry opened his mouth to reply, only to have it shut soundlessly again. He glanced out of the carriage window. The world was rolling gently by, the moon bathing the trees with a beautiful, pale light. He sighed heavily, chewing the inside of his lip. He could hear the truth of Draco's words ringing in his ears, but he wasn't sure if he dared believe it.
He would probably never be able to be completely certain if Draco's feelings stemmed from his own heart or simply the situation they had been thrust into, but Draco was right in that no one could be entirely sure that their partner truly loves them for them. They just have to trust that they do, his mind supplied. And just because he is right, doesn't mean I have to demand his undying love for me. Things can move as slowly as we please. Yes, Draco would have to endure a long, odious courting period if he really wanted Harry. The chosen one's heart wouldn't be as easily won as that.
"Why should I trust you enough to let you in?" Harry asked then, his eyes still focused on the dark world beyond the carriage window.
He could hear the smirk in Draco's voice when he said, "many reasons, one being that I have not betrayed you once yet. The other being that you want to, the other being this."
Tearing his gaze from the landscape outside, Harry glanced over to Draco and the small, shining orb that the vampire had produced from inside his robes. Harry flushed. It seemed like a silly, inconsequential idea now. Draco probably thought it was laughable that he, Harry Potter was giving such sentimental gifts to a man in any case. Did men give each other gifts? A few times Hermione had hinted that he should give Ginny gifts when they'd been going out…
Harry had just opened his mouth to defend his moment of madness, of sappy stupidity, when Draco cut across him.
"It's no secret that I have been a spoilt, ungrateful little brat since I was born. I have always had whatever I wanted whenever I wanted it," Draco began, "But I have never been given something like this. Something I didn't ask for, so simple and yet so full of meaning and feeling. Your feelings."
Harry's cheeks darkened and he fidgeted uncomfortably. Draco leant in closer, the ethereal light from the sphere illuminating his sharp features. "It makes me want you even more," the vampire breathed. Harry's tongue darted over his suddenly dry lips that he had chewed until they were sore. He looked everywhere, anywhere that wasn't Draco's face in an attempt to stifle his embarrassment.
Eventually, he leant back against the wall of the carriage and sighed. "It's like a rollercoaster, being with you, we were rowing a moment ago and now you're talking to me like…" He trailed off thoughtfully, wondering how two people as virile as them could ever possibly work together. Surely it was impossible? "It's so intense and unbalanced and…raw, it'll probably never work."
Suddenly, the soft glow from the sphere vanished and Draco's fingers were pressing firmly on his chin, turning his face so that his nose was almost touching Draco's. "Yet what you have merely tasted of the connection between us, it tells you that it's worth the risk of trying, doesn't it?" Draco murmured, his cool breath dancing across Harry's sore, bitten lips. Harry said nothing, didn't need to, all the hesitant agreement Draco would ever need was burning like a beacon in his emerald eyes as he leant forward in an attempt to seal their lips together.
Draco's finger came up to prevent their mouths from connecting. "I'll take that as a 'yes'. And I believe that you want to kiss me, don't you, Potter?" There was an edge of challenge in his voice. Harry glared. Draco grinned as he drew back and the carriage drew to a graceful halt simultaneously. "If you prove to be an adequate date tonight, Mr Potter, perhaps you'll have your kiss," Draco mused, pushing the door open and hopping out. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes when he stood back to allow Harry to get out, a glimmer that told Harry this was Draco's revenge for being 'messed about'. He wasn't sure whether he deserved it or not, but decided not to forgo any more of his pride in asking. It'd taken enough of a bashing for one day and he still had a few degrading tasks to perform before the night was out.
The houses of Hogsmeade village were quiet, with their windows glowing with comforting light. A majority of the shops were still open (apparently as usual for a Saturday night) and bustling with life – no doubt thanks to the new eighth year patrons. The Three Broomsticks in particular seemed to be roaring with life and vitality, so much so that Harry supposed the residents nearby must have set up silencing charms to get any sleep. It was good though, he supposed, that many were moving on with their lives after the war. The extra money that the eighth years brought in would help the sleepy village recover from its post-war slump.
"Rumour has it a new Apothecary opened a few months ago in Hogsmeade," Harry said as he walked the streets, Draco close behind him. He seemed to like watching him from behind, where he thought Harry couldn't see. The air was crisp and chilly but the lightly flickering lights from the surrounding buildings left a distinctly warm feeling brewing in his stomach. That and his cheeks were still burning from recalling the incident in the carriage. His steps sped up at that. "A Matilda Mawndwilis has been said to have opened it, she sources ingredients and potions from across the globe that are delivered at high speeds, if necessary."
Suddenly up alongside him, the vampire gave a derisive snort. "Don't sound so excited, we are wizards, you know. I can transport any object from here to Timbuktu for a price. What business do you have in an Apothecary on a Saturday night?"
Ignoring that last question, Harry continued to walk towards the location he'd heard that the shop resided in. Somewhere around here, he thought. "Money is no object," he said simply, pulling his cloak tighter around himself. It instantly warmed his skin. He loved magic.
Before long, the shop stood before them. It was a wholesome little place, simple, clean black lines formed the windows of the outside of the shop, which was filled with an odd assortment of ingredients and brewing utensils that Harry had never even heard of before. He swallowed uncertainly. He knew why he was doing this, but he wasn't looking forward to it, and he wasn't sure he wanted witnesses…
"Will you wait outside for me?" he asked carefully, not certain that Draco would agree. "I just don't want her asking questions about who you are, the glamours you've used means you're nothing like yourself after all. I don't want to arouse suspicion." He glanced at the vampire out of the corner of his eye and saw that expression flicker with thoughtful scheming. What's he up to? Harry wondered.
"Only if you agree to come with me, no questions asked once you're done here," Draco bargained, punctuating his sentence by tipping his head to indicate the apothecary. Harry's eyes narrowed. Draco's smirk broadened in answer. "I promise I'll have the prudish little chosen one back well before daybreak. I'll even cast a few glamours on you so that no one can tell who you are, if you'd prefer."
Harry just shrugged in the end, not knowing what to say in all honesty. What could he say to that? Especially before he knew what the blond was planning. Except, you can't deny you're a bit intrigued, the very Malfoy sounding voice whispered at the back of his mind. He really needed to shut that portion of his brain off. "Whatever, there'd better not be any funny business, that's all," Harry grumbled at last, pushing the shop door open. He heard a faint whisper of, "No, no funny business at all," just as he closed the door behind him.
He could not help but shiver at the possibilities of those words. Draco was planning something and far from worrying he wouldn't like it, he was concerned that he might like it a little too much.
The Matilda Mawndwilis Apothecary was just the same inside as it was outside. The floor was a clean, sterilised wood, whilst the magical light from above illuminated the sleek, simple lines of the black beams and shelves, lined with countless ingredients, utensils and potions. He could only guess at the identity of some of them. This was for the advanced brewer it seemed. Beyond the stacks of shelves at the far wall stood a long desk carved from black wood, again a simple, clean design that Harry thought looked oddly modern compared to other shops in the wizarding world. He supposed Matilda Mawndwilis must have had some modern day muggle influence. It just went to show how much the world had changed after the war. He wasn't sure this would've been acceptable before then, everyone who was anyone had once been far too conscious of the fatal possibilities any anti-muggle wizards could bring them.
The shop itself was deserted, no doubt due to the majority of the patrons currently populating the Three Broomsticks. The only other living being besides him in the shop was a tall, slender woman behind the desk. She was easily taller than him, with perfectly straight black hair that was tied back out of her pale face, exaggerating her large, brown eyes which were already riveted to Harry. Harry already felt distinctly uncomfortable, before he had even opened his mouth.
"And here I was thinking I'd have a slow start collecting business," the woman said as he approached the counter, her voice low and smooth, not at all unpleasant but oddly unnerving. She had an odd appeal about her and yet Harry couldn't help but think that most people might find her intimidating. "And already, I have a reputed patron such as Harry Potter in my shop. How might I help you, Mr Potter?"
She wasn't falsely sweet or bursting with over exaggerated pleasantries, which Harry was grateful for, it was refreshing to deal with another human being that wasn't overwhelmed by his fame. There was no mistaking the glint in her eyes, however, she knew that Harry buying something in her shop would be exponentially good for business, especially if Harry allowed her to use his name. That will make what I have to do a lot easier, he thought. With a final glance back at the closed door, beyond which Draco was standing somewhere, he set his hands on the front desk.
"I require a few ingredients, some rare, some not, but most ridiculously expensive. Money is no object, I need them and as quickly as you can get them to me," he said bluntly, deciding it was best not to beat about the bush. It had all come out as an abrupt, hasty explosion of information and he regretted how rude it had sounded, but Mawndwilis simply smiled at him.
"A man to the point and honest, I admire that, you don't see such admirable qualities very often, Mr Potter," she replied simply, "Although perhaps it was a mistake to be so forthright with how much money you are willing to spend?"
Harry shrugged, at the same time reaching into his pocket for the list of ingredients. "There's no sense beating about the bush, I want these ingredients and I want them urgently. Money is of no importance if you can get them to me," he said, again bluntly, though with more of an edge of politeness this time as he passed her the sheet of parchment. Again, she gave him a slight, genuine smile before scanning the list.
"There are some seventeen items here, Mr Potter, some of which are most costly," she began. Harry opened his mouth to remind her that money was no object, once again, before she cut him off. "But as long as you're sure. These products are in plentiful supply, but a selection of them are held on a wait list due to their sheer delicate nature. Only a certain amount can be shipped at any one time. I'm afraid the wait list for the most expensive of the supplies is seven months minimum."
Harry winced. No, Draco can't wait that long!
"With all due respect, Ma'am, that just isn't good enough," he said, staring meaningfully up into her face. "I am willing to pay any price necessary to get them. Another week is too long to wait." This was the part he'd been looking forward to least of all.
"Even money cannot speak amongst some circles, Mr Potter."
Harry inhaled sharply, deciding that just spitting it out before he lost his nerve was the only chance he had of going through with this. And helping Draco. "No, but my name should speak loud enough for any culture or society," he said.
Mawndwilis raised a brow. "Just what are you saying, Sir?" she asked, as if wanting to make sure what she was hearing was correct.
Harry reached into the innermost pocket of his robe and drew out a weighty leather bag that clinked in a tell-tale manner when he dropped it onto the counter between them. "There's your fee and more there, that's all yours and if you can get me the specified ingredients in three days–"
"Three days? It's impossible, Mr Potter, be reasonable!" She began, Harry however, was making good of his promise to not allow himself to be walked over anymore. He wasn't afraid of collecting the debt that everyone kept saying the wizarding world owed him if it helped those he cared for.
"Three days, Madame Mawndwilis," he repeated, "If you can deliver in that time, that there is your fee. And in addition, I will allow you to use my name as an advertising campaign to draw in more business." She seemed stumped for words. The opportunity was a great one indeed, he could see it in her eyes. That was when he forced his chin up, drawing on all of his determination to aid Draco to say, "I would much prefer my name benefit someone like you, Ma'am, but if you cannot help me then I am sure that there are many other reputable retailers that will find a way to help Harry Potter."
Never, ever had he used his name to gain anything and never would he again. He'd made an exception in order to help Draco and even still, his morals were roiling in his gut in self-disgust. He didn't like this, not one bit. But if it helps him…
"You drive a hard bargain, Mr Potter," Mawndwilis said at last, "I admire that. You're a man that knows what he wants." Harry snorted at that. If only, he thought as he watched her consult the list once more. "It will be a stretch, of course, but perhaps if I make clear who this is for, I can get it to you within the specified time."
Harry bowed his head slightly, barely refraining from giving a sigh of relief. "I would be very grateful, Ma'am."
The air outside the shop was a shock to his warmed skin. He shivered despite himself as he closed the door behind him, waiting for the coat to work its magic and warm him once more according to the temperature change. Its heat had lessened whilst he was inside the warm shop. Just as it began to warm him again, however, than he was frozen still by the mere look on Draco's voice. His eyes widened. Draco was standing exactly where he'd left him outside the shop, with an unmistakable look on his face.
I should've realised there were no silencing charms on the shop by the fact that I could still hear the music from the Three Broomsticks, Harry thought, cursing his stupidity. He hadn't wanted Draco to hear or even know what he had been up to, but it appeared he had – every word.
"A fascinating thing, my growing abilities," Draco said carefully. "It turns out that I can now hear this faint sound, a white noise whenever a privacy spell is cast. My supernatural hearing allows me to differentiate between true silence and magical silence. So I temporarily removed the one surrounding this shop, just long enough so that I could hear every word you said."
Harry just stared at him. He didn't know why, but he didn't want Draco to know what he had done and was on edge waiting for his reaction.
"Why did you do it?" Draco demanded. "You paid that woman a small fortune and flaunted your name, something I know for a fact behoves you to do. I would know why."
With no little amount of discomfort, Harry began walking away from the shop. "I said I wouldn't let you rot away in that room, that I wouldn't let Alaric win, didn't I?" He replied, his voice stiff with embarrassment.
"Money is no object to a Malfoy either, why did you take this task upon yourself? I can't allow myself to be indebted to you, especially in monetary–"
"No offense, but since Voldemort, Potter money and the Potter name speaks louder than Malfoy," Harry interjected. "Everyone is always clamouring after me to use my name to endorse their businesses, I knew this was the one certified way to get those ingredients as soon as possible." Suddenly, Draco's fingers locked around Harry's wrist, tugging him back roughly so that the man was forced to meet his vampire's eyes. They smouldered with unrecognisable emotion.
"Why would you do something so against your own morals? Why would you disregard everything you believe in to help me?" Draco questioned, his voice insistent, unyielding. He seemed almost angry, and Harry couldn't fathom why.
"You've done a lot for me over the last few weeks," Harry replied, trying for indifference as he struggled to yank his hand out of Draco's reach. Those fingers merely gripped him harder. Harry winced. "I couldn't bear to see you suffer a moment longer than you had to, you prat. It was nothing! Seriously, I–"
"I can smell the panic, the lies on you," Draco cut across him. "Don't disregard this so easily. Acts such as these may be an every day occurrence to you but they aren't to me. Especially when it cost you both your pride and your morals to do so. Why exactly, couldn't you bear to see me suffer?" He squeezed Harry's wrists tighter then, drawing him in close. "Shall I tell you why? It's because you care about me, don't you?"
Harry struggled ferociously now, disliking the way that even something as personal as that was said in such a goading voice. "I – I never denied I cared. How can I not? You're an important feature in my life now, I can't easily disregard your suffering. I can't easily disregard anyone's pain!"
"But I am important to you," Draco pressed, tugging Harry's wrists down so that he could feel the heat radiating from Harry's torso unhindered. The way Harry had demanded results back in that shop, it had evoked a reaction in him so potent his insides were quaking with it.
Harry could say what he liked about how he would do the same for any sufferer; Draco had heard the way his heart had pounded in his chest, the persistence in his voice. That was not the way you did just any person a favour. He was important to Harry, there way no way that even Harry himself could deny it and that made Draco's very skin hum with the desire to crush Harry's lips to his own. The fact that he hadn't so far was a tribute to his hard-won control.
No one had ever made such personal sacrifices for him, with perhaps the exception of Severus and his mother. It was overwhelming. And Harry was trying to deny it? Escape from it? Never, Draco hissed at the back of his mind.
"Stop running scared of your feelings. What do you think I will do if you are honest, for once? Laugh?" He snapped. Harry jerked back then with all his strength and Draco let him go this time, watching him stumble backwards and scramble to stay on his feet.
"I don't give a shit if you laugh," Harry retorted, although the sharpness to his words told Draco that that wasn't entirely true. "I just don't divulge my feelings easily anymore, especially when I'm not certain of them. I have no desire to hurt anyone like I hurt Ginny or Cho, or myself…"
Draco frowned then, not realising just how deep the guilt and fear of being hurt again was engrained into him. A defence mechanism, he supposed. Harry had most likely had enough pain to last a lifetime.
"Haven't I proved by now that you can trust me?" Draco said with a tone that was a tad softer than before. Harry just glared.
"Haven't I told you before that it's not you I can't trust, it's me? I can't easily push all of that uncertainty aside. I'm…" The man shook his head then, diverting his gaze and pulling that cloak around his body as if mimicking the comfort of an embrace. "I'm fucked up, Draco, you should realise that by now. My issues aren't going to disappear over night just because you want them to."
Draco rolled his eyes, throwing the man a look that accused stupidity. "When have I ever asked for that? We will work through our problems together. That is the way stronger relationships are built. I am no fool; even a man like me knows such a thing."
He relished in the stunned expression that twitched at that plush mouth. He could tell by the nervous palpitations now caressing that human heart, that those words were something Harry had wanted, but had never dared hope to hear. "You're so emotionally and intimately inexperienced, that perhaps I should spell it out for you," Draco said then, tilting his head to the side just enough that he could see the pink scar that would forever adorn Harry's throat. "Even a person such as I can desire more than the most basic comforts. I want your mind, your body, your soul, for all eternity. Not just a twice-weekly fuck when I feed – all of you."
"Nothing too intense then," Harry snorted sarcastically, but there was an anxious flush touching his skin. Draco had affected him.
"And you want much more than that from me too, don't you?" Draco asked.
This time, Harry did not answer, instead he grumbled unintelligibly under his breath, shifting his feet distractedly beneath him. That was answer enough for Draco – for now at least. He cast a glance up to the dark blanket of clouds above, feeling the dull, distant twinge of the far off sunrise approaching. They had a while left before they had to be getting back. "Come then, you promised you would come with me if I waited outside," Draco said.
"You eavesdropped," Harry reminded him, "that surely cancels out the agreement?"
Draco smirked, feeling his slytherin roots right down to his core. "You specified my standing outside, nothing more." He scanned Harry's body with his eyes then, lingering just enough on the man's crotch to catch Harry's attention. Sure enough, his companion fidgeted uncomfortably. "Come on, Harry, you must be interested, surely?" His voice was a low, seductive drawl and he could sense the way Harry's body temperature increased ever so slightly at the sound of it. His grin broadened.
"This is your first lesson in living, Mr Potter," Draco recited in his best impression of Snape as he drew his wand, casting the very same glamours on Harry as he'd done on himself. After a few simple charms, everyone except himself would only see an auburn haired, medium height man, nothing to even take a second glance at. Something inside Draco was unhealthily pleased that Harry's true image, for this night at least would be his and his alone to view. "Do pay close attention," he added, walking close to the man's side as he led him toward the closest apparition point.
When they reached the slightly enclosed area, he stopped and turned fully to face Harry with a raised brow. Harry faltered and took a few steps back. Draco meanwhile could not help but find that hesitancy slightly endearing. "And now, a lesson in relying on someone other than your good self," Draco mused, reaching out and tugging Harry roughly forwards until the man was trapped in his embrace.
His First struggled at that, even grunted in negation through clenched teeth. Lowering his head to bring his lips to Harry's ear, Draco exhaled softly against the soft shell. Harry froze, his back arching and his eyes widening as a shiver rippled across his skin. "Trust me," Draco all-but purred, "rely on me. Let someone else care for you, if only for a few hours."
Sensing Harry's hesitance, he ran his fingers through the haphazard locks at the back of the man's neck, the kind of doting caress only a lover could give. "What have you got to lose by trying?" He didn't have to hear Harry's thoughts to know what he was thinking now. His pride, his remaining strength, his heart, Draco's mind supplied. Harry could say what he liked. He knew the man better than most.
After a few moments, he felt Harry relax slightly in his arms. It was a subtle movement, barely noticeable to anyone except himself, but it was a vast milestone in their relationship. Dipping his head a fraction more to inhale Harry's throat, Draco focused on their destination and disapparated.
"I can't believe you brought me somewhere so…so…"
"Luxurious?" Draco suggested, looking around at the softly lit restaurant. The whole place was dressed in lavish decorations, the main colour a royal purple with golds and silvers accenting every feature. Even the table cloth beneath the expensive settings was a rich golden satin. Draco smirked devilishly at Harry's face as his fingertips slid suggestively across the silken fabric.
The mood was calm and each table had a courtesy privacy spell which was complex enough to involve a soft background musical concerto catered specifically to each occupant's taste. It was a very intimate setting, one that Harry seemed embarrassingly aware of. Part of his punishment as well as his lesson in living, Draco mused, sipping at his tall class of the champagne. The bubbles felt nice on his tongue, but the taste was nowhere near as pleasant as he remembered. He did miss enjoying the simplest of things such as food…
"I was going to say precocious," Harry replied, prodding at his appetiser with the wrong fork for a salad. Again, Draco only found it endearing. "How did you get us into such a snazzy restaurant without reservations?"
"The Malfoy name still holds power also," Draco murmured. "This place is held in highest regard for not only its food, but its privacy. I was able to call upon my name, even though I do not look like myself. The presence of my money is enough to convince them of my genuineness. A lot of patrons come here in 'disguise' to have a quiet evening. Only the most prestigious witches and wizards come here."
"Snob." Harry rolled his eyes then, shovelling some finely sliced lettuce and tomato into his mouth so that the sauce that covered it nearly escaped his lips. Draco winced. "You have to let me pay half of the bill," Harry insisted. "I won't let you pay for all of this. It must cost a fortune."
"Is that why you spent some time making sure you ordered the cheapest thing on the menu?" Draco enquired, setting down his glass with a raised brow. "What part of letting someone else care for you includes you paying for any of this?"
"I'm not the kind of person that will be seduced by money, you know," Harry warned. "You can't buy me."
Draco sighed, making a show of eating his lettuce with the correct fork, despite how pointless it was for him. Eating for him nowadays was just going through the motions really. It dissipated in his stomach uselessly, giving him no sustenance at all – unlike Harry's blood. "I'm not buying you," Draco said impatiently. "I'm treating you, it's what people do for the person they are courting." When Harry moved to open his mouth again, Draco added quickly, "you can pay the bill next time we venture out."
Harry grunted and finished up his salad just in time for the main course to arrive. The man seemed so mesmerised by the gourmet roast dish that he didn't even react to the fact that Draco had insinuated they would do this often.
Harry's appreciation of food was interesting now that Draco had eyes acute enough to notice. He savoured every bite, every morsel and yet seemed to be unconsciously trying to hide that appreciation. He had seen that in Harry's memories as well, being starved or fed what only a pigeon could live off of. He hadn't always been allowed to eat what he wanted to eat. Draco would make sure that he would from now on, amongst other things.
"So was there a point to bringing me here?" Harry asked, tucking into his fine slices of chicken. "Aside from sitting there and staring at every bite I eat?"
Draco smirked subtly. "Only getting to know each other better," Draco replied. But then he remembered that Harry appreciated the full, raw truth, in all circumstances. "I thought this would be the best way to show you that things between us could be more than the furious frenzy of passion whenever I bite you."
Harry was only partly looking at him as he said, "at least you were honest. But really, I don't need a fancy dinner every–"
"I didn't mean the fancy dinner," Draco replied shortly, "I meant the fact that I am spending time with you, showing an interest in you outside of the crescendo of ecstasy and blood we share twice a week. Honestly, you are so jaded and afraid to expect too much of anyone that you always assume the worst. I can spell it out no clearer, surely? I want us to belong to each other, in every way possible." His tone was blunt and hard with frustration then, he couldn't help it, but for the first time ever, Harry was staring at him with his full attention. He looked like he fully believed him, at last.
It wasn't what Draco had said, but the way he had said it – without conscious effort to school his words in a way Harry would find more acceptable. No, he had automatically said they would belong to each other. It was the first time Draco had spoken of their potential relationship as if it would be equal, and that was the kind of union he, Harry was interested in. Not any on-going battle of vampire and donor.
They spent the rest of the main course conversing over much lighter subjects. Harry had been fascinated by the difference in his muggle primary school education and Draco's private school tutoring before Hogwarts. They had similar elements of course, Maths, English, but with wizarding histories and wizarding activities in their P.E. Lessons. Harry had sat almost agape as Draco had described how their coverage of the muggle gladiators had included a moving, talking model of an arena where re-enactments took place in the middle of the classroom. He couldn't help but wonder just what it would have been like to have known about magic all of his life. It was the first time in a long while that he had wondered how a childhood where he had been raised by his real parents might have been.
Their war-time experiences had been a similarity they unfortunately shared too. It had been peculiarly easy to tell Draco about some of the things he'd had to endure that he had never divulged to anyone besides Ron, Hermione, Remus and Tonks. After he'd told the vampire how he had lost Hedwig, Draco told him about how Bellatrix's first lesson in initiating him into the Death Eaters had been to force him to watch as she used the killing curse on his own owl.
So many similar painful experiences, he thought, we're more similar than I'd ever have imagined a few weeks ago. In a moment of swelling appreciation and bravery, he reached across the table to shyly brush the back of his index finger across Draco's knuckles soothingly. It felt good, touching someone, being close to someone that understood him.
Harry had been disgusted and yet touched when Draco had trusted him enough to quietly explain just how he had ended up in that dungeon in the first place. The thought of Voldemort raping Draco was enough to make his teeth clench. He withdrew his hands and they clenched into tight fists that quivered with rage under the table. For a very fleeting moment, he was almost grateful he had killed the bastard. He choked at that thought, however. The curse killed him, he quickly reminded himself.
"He didn't, you know," Draco said suddenly, seeming to have taken Harry's withdrawal the wrong way. "He didn't touch me. When I refused, he gave me to Greyback to torture into madness as punishment for my disobedience."
Harry shook his head slightly, the movement barely visible to the human eye. "No, I… It's not that, I just…" He chewed the inside of his lip for a moment as he struggled to find the words to express the emotion building inside of him. "I don't know how you did it, refused him, even knowing what he would do to you, that was so–"
"Foolish and arrogant," Draco finished for him, "I was more concerned about sullying my pure, perfect body than dying."
"I was going to say brave, actually," Harry corrected. He saw disbelief touch those usually well-controlled features. Features he had, at some point, come to admire with an embarrassing kind of fervency. "I admire that kind of uncompromising sense of self-worth."
Draco snorted at that. "I didn't feel particularly brave at the time, crying out for my mother like a snivelling brat as that thing ripped the body and face I was so proud of to shreds."
Harry frowned, hesitating a little before he said, "I suppose in some ways, being a vampire has been a blessing – in that instance I mean." He remembered the smell of stagnant, infected flesh, the sight of those bloody wounds as he had been chained to the dungeon wall. Draco would not have healed from those scars naturally, even with magical help, had he remained human. He winced at the memory, Draco's screams echoing at the back of his mind.
Present day Draco, however, was staring at him carefully. "So tell me, Harry Potter, just how has my being a vampire been a blessing in terms of my appearance?"
Harry prodded his roast potatoes distractedly. "Well…you know, after that sort of torture…" His lip stung where he had gnawed at the inside of it now. He supposed blurting it out was the only way he'd say this properly. "You look exactly the same as before, paler, obviously and your eyes change colour if you're…worked up, but aside from that you're just as perfect as you always were." He could feel the blood colouring his cheeks as he glanced up to Draco again, but the vampire looked oddly stunned.
Then, suddenly, it all made sense. "You…you did know how you looked, didn't you?"
With a partly embarrassed and partly overwhelmed sneer, Draco turned his head away. "It's hardly as if I can check a mirror, now is it, Potter?" he murmured bitterly, though there was a thickness in his tone, betraying his emotions. Harry set down his knife and fork, staring at the vampire. Had Draco really thought he had been scarred from Greyback's torture all this time? Imperfect?
Surely he would have realised that vampires healed rapidly, and that logically, those wounds would have too? But perhaps, amidst the hunger pains, amidst the confusion and misery, the darkness he had been locked away in during most of the summer, there had been no room for common sense. Draco isn't as sure of himself as he used to be, not that he would ever let me know that, Harry thought. And without his parents or a mirror, his insecurity probably festered. He was sure the vampire would've rather died than ask Snape such a thing, after all. He was far too proud.
"But you…you've been so cocky and overconfident about me fancying you all this time," Harry gaped. Draco merely sipped at his champagne uneasily, evidently not ready to face Harry again yet. Something flickered at the back of Harry's mind then. Not so much a memory, more of a feeling from the times he had been privy to Draco's innermost memories and emotions during the bite. Draco felt like his appearance had been all he had to offer, he had taken pride in it, and the melancholy locked deep, deep inside of him was largely because he thought his beauty had died along with his purity and his humanity.
Clearing his throat awkwardly, and thinking that he'd rather go back to the Hospital Wing and listen to Hermione talk about periods and clumsy sex with Ron again than say this, he swallowed his pride. "You should know…you look…you look really good," he mumbled uneasily. "I mean, I think you must know that I like the way you look with the way that I… But yeah, you look… Bloody hell, you look perfect, you arse hole, alright?!"
For once, his inarticulateness, his inability to form simple sentences seemed to have benefitted the situation. For Draco could not help but give a small smile as he set his glass down. Harry felt mortified as his own words revolved around and around in his head like a broken record, the only constellation was that Draco was looking at him again, that devilish smirk gracing those lips.
"Perhaps you should tell me clearly, just why you like the way that I look," Draco teased. The overwhelming relief he felt upon realising his appearance was just as pristine as always, seemed to have been inundated by his delight in Harry's blundering honesty. Not that that helped Harry's discomfiture any. He shovelled roast potatoes into his mouth to avoid having to answer.
Luckily, it seemed that Draco took pity on him after a few moments and changed the subject. They talked for so long and with surprising ease and even more surprising similarities in opinion and experience. Both the bad and the good kind. By the time their conversation had turned onto their aspirations to the future, however, their words finally faltered.
"I don't really know what I want to do," Harry admitted, fiddling absently with the napkin in front of him in an effort to find something to look at besides Draco's far too distracting gaze. He supposed that Draco's behaviour to him recently deserved a better response than he had given so far. He deserved trust at the very least. If nothing else, the vampire – no, the man's actions over the last few days had proved one thing. That Harry would be a fool if he didn't at least give this (whatever this was) a chance.
For all of the reasons he gave me and more, Harry thought. Who else has struggled through my pathetic behaviour, all in an attempt to get close to me? He wants me, and I…I may want him as well. Whatever reasons I have to pull away, how will I ever know if they are valid or not if I don't so much as try? With that, Harry exhaled deeply, taking a chance on Draco. "I used to want to be an auror, but…well for reasons you probably know more than most, that idea has lost its appeal now. I've never had aspirations, dreams of being anything other than happy in general, so I don't really know where to go after Hogwarts."
Draco surveyed him carefully, seeming to understand the gravity of the chance Harry had just taken in allowing him in. Acknowledging that he was a person he could confide in. "I expect many doors will be open to Harry Potter as soon as you decide," Draco murmured, and just as Harry was about to open his mouth, he added, "Your one truly taxing task will be to filter through the ones that only want you for your name and the ones that honestly want you for your talents."
Harry stared at him in surprise, not realising until then just how well Draco had come to know him. The vampire smiled, as if reading his mind.
"I do not for one moment expect you will have to do that alone, however," Draco said flippantly.
Harry sat up a little straighter in his chair. "Of course," he said slowly. "I'll need someone who can think like a sneaky slytherin to ensure I'm not hoodwinked."
Draco smirked again. "I daresay you will." He sipped deeply at his beverage then, his eyes riveted to Harry's the entire time, as if picturing Harry's taste in his mouth instead of the inadequate brew. Harry shuddered, wondering just when he'd begun to think such perverted things. He twisted the napkin even harder in his grasp, feeling heat brew just beneath his skin.
Suddenly, Draco's hand shot forwards, with vampire speed and yet butterfly delicacy that caused a shudder of ethereal, feather-light pleasure to ripple through Harry's fingers and up through his entire being. Draco's hand remained over his for a moment, a prolonged minute where he had no choice but to think of all the other, less subtle pleasures those fingers had brought to his skin. His breath stuck in his throat as he choked on his words.
Slowly, Draco traced the shape of his knuckle, staring straight into his face as he did so, as if daring him to deny how good it felt, to pull away as he had done so many times before. Swallowing his roaring pride and uncertainty, Harry managed to stay perfectly still, even if his awkwardness did make his mouth spit out senseless questions in an attempt to alleviate the sinfully delicious tension.
"Err, so…you're always going on about what you're going to make of yourself," Harry tried shakily, "what exactly do you hope to do once we leave here?"
With a sly smile, Draco drew his hand away, taking with it the abused napkin Harry had been clutching like a lifeline. "I've always been promised to the political domain," Draco said airily, folding the white napkin in precise, sharp lines that Harry could not help but watch with interest. "My father had it in mind for me ever since I was born, I think."
Harry frowned, even as he continued to watch the way those fingers twisted and folded the fabric into specific positions. "But…didn't your parents sort of… You said that they'd barely spoken to you, that's all. I thought–"
"They are still my parents, and their silence and withdrawal is purely in mourning of the life they now think I can never have. I will show them that their son is still very much alive. I have changed, of course, but their connection to me can never be altered. Politics is the best way to raise my family name from the gutter as well as my own name from the darkness my parents believe I have been lost to. I may be a 'beast' but I can still be a man, I need to prove that to them as well as the rest of the world, that is all," Draco explained. "I will make them proud again, show them that this," he gestured to himself, "this is something to be celebrated instead of cursed, if used in the right way."
Harry stared as Draco lifted the origami shape into his palm, a finely shaped swan that the vampire set down in front of Harry's hand. It reminded Harry a little of the paper bird Draco had charmed to fly across the room and taunt him with potential quidditch mishaps that day in Defence Against the Dark Arts in third year. He smirked a little at the memory. Whatever happened between them now, things would inevitably be different to how they'd been back then. Without meeting Draco's gaze, he picked it up and put it in his pocket.
"No offense, but your parents' love isn't something you should have to win, they should love you no matter what. You shouldn't have to prove anything to them," Harry said.
Draco bristled. "They do love me; they love me so much that they cannot look at me now because it only reminds them of how they believe they failed me. How they believe they caused me to suffer," he snapped. "I will give them something to focus on with my success," he assured him, "a brighter light to chase away the shadows."
Just then, Harry could fully imagine Draco as a public speaker, someone important to give speeches and captivate his audience, make them believe in whatever cause he decided to pursue. He himself felt riveted to Draco at that moment, to that intensity, that sheer conviction, and he could not help but admire it.
"You have direction," Harry said then, after a moment or two of silence. "I envy you that. I have no idea where to go or what to do with my life. I feel like a headless chicken."
With a small laugh that crumbled the tension a little, Draco leant forwards across the table to him so that their hands nearly touched. "Almost everyone our age has no clue what to do with themselves, that's only normal. And you have plenty of time to decide. Once you've left Hogwarts you can have a few months off to decide, it's not like you can't use the holiday."
With a small snort of amusement, Harry glanced distractedly at the area beyond the tables. He could only hear the music of their own table of course, but on the modest dance floor not far away, a small cluster of witches and wizards were dancing to another tune. It seemed a fairly slow, yet positive sort of dance, easy to follow. A young girl that must've been the same age as them was smiling with giddy bliss as her male companion twirled her on the spot. Harry could not help but smile at the happiness evident in her expression.
"Would you care to dance?" Draco asked, his voice snapping Harry from his reverie. Turning his head to gaze at the man across the table from him, Harry stared with wide, disbelieving eyes.
"What?" he all-but gasped.
"You seemed to be staring at them," Draco said simply, his face devoid of emotion as he studied Harry fervently. "Would you like to dance – with me?"
Flushing furiously, Harry gaped at him. "A-Are you joking?" he choked. "You must've seen the spectacle I made of myself at the Yule Ball in fourth year. I didn't stumble all over the place for my own amusement, you know. I really am that bloody awful at it!"
Smirking again, Draco glided elegantly to his feet and extended his hand for Harry to take. "You obviously need an excuse to live, so I do believe you owe me at least this for being such a stubborn, offensive arse over the last few weeks."
Harry looked again to the dance floor, the music had changed to a more modern, yet soulful waltz that was audible to him now. The music at their own table seemed to have died when Draco vocalized his intention of joining the dance floor. He felt quite sick at the prospect of dancing. It just wasn't something he did. He did remember that Draco had (of course) been exceptionally good at it. It had been hard not to notice at the Yule Ball. "I really can't dance," he insisted again. Draco stepped closer, snatching Harry's hand and tugging him towards the dance floor.
"And I really can. I will lead, it's only a waltz, it's not that hard, just follow me," Draco said, his voice thick with the proud superiority Harry had always known him for. He probably wants to show off to me a bit, Harry thought, remembering how he himself had pulled a daring death dive back on the quidditch pitch only a few days ago in a bid to impress the vampire. That and it's uncomfortably intimate, his mind supplied, heat burning in his cheeks. He probably thinks it will bring us closer or something, emotionally as well as physically. He ducked his head at that thought, hiding his mortified expression as he was lead onto a space on the dance floor.
The problem was, he was sure it would bring them closer, that was what he feared. But he did owe Draco this, and more, and that sense of duty, combined with the edge of curious desire to feel that nervous fluttering in his stomach that the vampire incited once more, was what made him comply. Draco seemed to sense the surrender and pulled him in close at that moment, one arm taking hold of Harry's waist while the other gripped his hand firmly. Harry kept his gaze on his feet. He was too close, he couldn't meet those grey eyes.
"We're blokes," Harry mumbled, but whether that was in a last ditch effort to escape this humiliation, or to let Draco know one of the other reasons why this was bothering him, even he couldn't be certain. He just felt very uncomfortable being looked at, very aware of how good it felt to be locked in Draco's arms and sick at the thought of falling flat on his face. "Everyone is watching us."
Then, he was being pulled in one direction, guided across the dance floor at a slow, easy pace in time with the soft, thumping rhythm of the music. Hyperaware of how fast his breath was leaving him – embarrassingly fast, just like his heart rate, he forced it to slow to match the beat of the music. But it felt oddly reassuring that he wasn't expected to lead or plan the next move. This was probably the only time he would be grateful that Draco was in charge. Not the only time, a voice whispered with suggestive passion at the back of his mind.
"They are only looking at you because you are staring at your feet and flushing like a virgin school girl and it is endearing," Draco clarified, his tone as simple and unaffected as if he hadn't just inadvertently said that people found him, Harry cute. He wasn't sure how he felt about that peculiar complement. "Look at my face and we'll blend into the background like the rest of them. The fact that we are two men is irrelevant in wizarding society – I've told you that before."
And so has Hermione, Harry thought, it doesn't make all those years of the Dursley's prejudice vanish into thin air. He could still remember Vernon Dursley spitting out vile insults about the 'faggot' Dudley had beat up on a regular basis at Smeltings. In some ways, the Wizarding World and the Muggle World were similar and yet still decidedly different. I suppose the Wizarding World has its own prejudices about other things, Harry thought, setting his jaw and forcing himself to look up into Draco's face.
Those keen eyes were on him, and he felt the urge to look away again in discomfort, but would not allow himself to surrender so easily. He held Draco's gaze. Thinking of it like a challenge helped to ease the embarrassment he felt pulsing at the back of his mind. Long, hungry fingers tightened on his waist and around his hand, reminding him of who was in control, who would not let him fall.
I reckon if he can help me dance without stumbling over myself like an idiot, then he deserves all of the trust I can place in him, Harry mused, feeling his way after Draco's footsteps, following them easily. People were still watching, of course, murmuring something Harry couldn't hear. Just as Harry glanced to the side in an attempt to catch their words, however, Draco swirled him around and lead their dance in another direction. He was grinning.
"What are you smirking at?" Harry groused, still a little uncomfortable, and awkward with how much his skin was tingling under Draco's touch. He swore that the places they were joined were glowing with that cool, comforting touch.
"They say that you must be very much in love with me, with the way you can barely meet my eyes," Draco replied, his tone ripe with amusement. "What do you think of that, Potter?"
"I think you like people gossiping about you, about us," he snapped, disgruntled.
"I happen to think that there is no such thing as bad publicity," Draco replied, "But they are not gossiping about us – we do not look like us, remember?"
"But you wish that we did," Harry said. He was surprised how he didn't even have to think about the next movement now, merely followed Draco without difficulty, secretly relishing in the little jerks of pleasure that tore through his stomach each time their bodies pressed tightly together. It was just moving his feet in time with Draco's really. And being in sync with him is surprisingly…natural, Harry thought. As easy as breathing.
"I won't deny that I'm hoping next time you'll agree to be seen in public with me, as yourself, but that's a very small priority on my list of desires. I know how much you hate being in the public eye, after all," Draco said, his eyes burning with all of the other desires and sinful wishes he had for Harry. Harry swallowed again, his throat very dry tonight.
"That's another thing – you say you want to be in politics, that involves some amount of public attention."
"The more the better," Draco added.
Harry frowned. "I'm not sure I would ever want that kind of attention, not ever again. It's too much as it is. I don't even take The Daily Prophet or any other wizarding paper anymore because I don't want to see myself on the front page if I so much as sneeze wrong."
The music was pulsing in a dramatic finale now and Draco leant in close, his lips almost touching Harry's as he breathed, "If you think I would ever allow anyone to harass you like that if you were mine, you are sorely mistaken. You will live your life the way you chose and I will do everything to protect that, if you let me." His words were filled with such conviction and passion, such fervent desire that Harry thought he could be talking about sex and something as simple as this and he'd never be able to tell the difference. Would Draco always be this intense? This…passionate? Would he, Harry be happy or disappointed if he didn't? He was still so very unsure about everything. The only difference was that now, he would not run from that any more.
Suddenly, Draco twirled him dramatically as the final notes of the song died in a beautiful burst of sound. He was twisted back into Draco's chest and his hands came between them to cushion the blow against the vampire's hard chest. Their eyes locked, inciting Harry's heart into frantic, dazzled palpitations.
"W-Why do you…? I don't understand how you…you can want me so much," Harry breathed. "It doesn't make sense."
"Emotions never do," Draco replied, his voice as soft and smooth as caramel. Harry swore he could taste it. He licked his lips, very conscious of how close Draco's were to his now – anticipating a kiss that he didn't know why he wanted so much. Was being a man always this confusing?
The kiss never came, however. The fingers on his waist caressed his side tenderly, and that face was touched with a hungry expression as the vampire inhaled him deeply. "We should head back," Draco practically purred, taking a slight step back as if to resist temptation of taking Harry right there on the floor. The mind bond didn't have to be open for Harry to see that in his eyes.
"Have to get delicate little Potter home before midnight."
Harry gave a scowl he didn't fully mean. This playfulness, it was new and odd, a development from the snide remarks they had once tossed at each other so easily in their youth. He could not help the disappointment that twitched in his belly as Draco lead the way back to their table, away from the scene of the most recent development in their intimacy.
"Well, Potter, was I an adequate first date?" Draco asked derisively, leaving a very generous pile of shining, golden galleons on the centre piece. But there was an edge of uncertainty under his cocky exterior that Harry could not help but empathize with. Even a proud, self-important vampire could have insecurities, it seemed. As confused and dazed as he was by the entire evening, Harry could only smile in answer to Draco's question.
~To Be Continued...