.: Chapter Twenty-One :.
ENLIGHTENING FRETFULNESS
It was peculiar how cold and empty the castle could be. Even he, Draco had always seen it as a place of warmth and homeliness and he knew Harry felt that too. Right now, however, he had never felt so lonely. The Hospital Wing was dark with the fall of the moonless night and he sat on a chair at Harry's bedside, a single flickering candle on the bedside cabinet offering an orange, dancing light. His abilities allowed him to see his First quite well despite the gloom, however and he studied the man's unchanged face as he lay flat on his back on the bed, unmoving.
When Severus and the others had cast the spell earlier, Harry's body had shaken, writhed as if live electricity were coursing through it. When he had slumped uselessly back to the bed however, he was still unconscious and the only movement he gave was to turn his head slightly to face Draco before remaining still again. Pomfrey had diagnosed that they had cracked the iron-clad shell of the curse that was imprisoning Harry in his own mind, had caused it to crumble before Harry's own defensive magic had seen them as a threat and shoved him from his mind, quite literally.
"Harry is probably the most powerful wizard alive right now, we keep forgetting that," the werewolf had murmured thoughtfully.
Harry's cold-sweat had vanished, his breathing and heart-rate had levelled and Pomfrey had deduced that it might be best to let Harry's magic heal the rest itself. For Draco, that had been almost too much to bear. The teachers had vanished, Snape with a promise to renew his search for Alaric using his own 'contacts' and Lupin staying last of the 'adults', only leaving when Pomfrey insisted that he return to his wife before she started to worry.
Granger and Weasley had stayed longest with him, just sitting quietly in the dying light until a Tempus charm had showed it well past midnight and Weasley had insisted that his girlfriend and the life within her needed rest. Now Draco was alone with his thoughts and Harry's soft breathing. He could almost be asleep, Draco thought, reaching over and dragging his smooth fingertips over the back of the man's hand. Almost, were it not for the aching chasm of agony throbbing in his chest. He would not be at peace, not be able to close his eyes even for an 'undead sleep' until Harry came back to him.
His eyes stung where they had remained opened so long, staring at his First, his lover like two gaping, silvery rifts in the darkness. He had never felt so hopeless and lost in all his life, not even when he had been tortured by Greyback for refusing Voldemort that night. And this was because of love? He was drowning in it, choking on it. Whoever said that love was a wondrous thing was a bloody liar, his mind spat.
Just when he was forging a life for himself again, just when he was growing in strength… He'd thought he was in control of it all, but the whole time he'd been falling for Harry. He hated Harry for making him feel this helpless, for leaving him behind to realise how he felt alone, in the most soul-destroying of situations. For making him feel so weak again, like he was about to crumble.
Alaric knew what he was doing by targeting Harry. Draco was lost without him. He thought he was becoming independent, but the truth was, he didn't know where to turn now. All he could do was sit here and watch and wait. Like a cold, unmoving statue.
Who are you to do this to me and then leave me here to suffer it alone? He demanded of Harry's unconscious body, his eyes stinging treacherously. Could he even still cry? Could a vampire manage such a thing? He couldn't even keep himself warm without Harry's soothing heat pressed against him, it something he had become far too dependant on. He growled under his breath, grinding his teeth in frustration at his helplessness.
He snarled aloud then, his fingers closing tightly around Harry's hand as he tipped his head onto the side of the bed, breathing in Harry's scent in an attempt to eradicate his despair. Harry would pull through this, he was too strong to be defeated by such a simple spell. He had already died and come back, after all. It didn't help to tell himself what probably would be and might happen. What should. Not when Harry was still lying there, not moving.
How dare you piss on all of the progress I've made in making myself strong again by making me fall for you?! His body quavered with pent up emotion, he felt like he was going to explode. Fuck you, Potter. Don't you dare do this to me, then piss off and not take responsibility for it! He leapt to his feet then, determined to pace, to run, to break something, anything to expel the tension writhing through his muscles. A hand snapping tightly around his wrist stopped him dead in his tracks.
"Wha've I done now?" Harry murmured croakily through his dry lip, clearing his throat groggily. Draco whirled around to see Harry's eyes blinking blearily around and found himself frozen on the spot. He dropped his wrist. Harry's hand reached out blindly to the nightstand, snatching up his glasses before setting them on his face and squirming to sit up in the bed.
The object of Draco's affections glanced around, before settling his dazzling green eyes on him again. "I remember… I s'pose you must've brought me to the Hospital Wing, yeah? What's the time?"
Draco stared at him, listening to his voice and drinking it in as if he hadn't heard it in years. He swallowed, struggling to find his words. "It's…it's nearly two o'clock in the morning," Draco murmured, cursing the way his voice broke treacherously. He steeled his resolve, standing a little straighter as if that would help him not to break. "You've been here since this morning."
Harry stared at him a moment, as if it was taking his brain a while to catch up with the rest of him in waking, but then he gave a solemn nod. "It was Alaric," he said raspily, looking around before setting his sights on the jug of water at the side of the bed. Before he could so much as reach for it, Draco had already begun pouring him a glass. Perhaps it was because he had just realised exactly how much Harry meant to him, or perhaps it was because he'd just nearly lost him but even the sight of Harry's throat working as he swigged back the water greedily was capturing his attention more than it should. I am doomed. Beyond pathetic, he hissed at himself, taking care not to aim that thought in Harry's direction. He didn't think this was something he was ready to share with anyone, especially Harry himself.
"I was trapped in his memories," Harry continued to explain, his voice sounding more healthy now that he was more hydrated. "Alaric's, I mean."
Draco narrowed his eyes. He'd thought Alaric was torturing him or…or worse! This attack seemed suspiciously subtle. It worried him. "How can you be sure the memories were accurate?" Draco asked cautiously.
"I could sense it," Harry said, his words filled with conviction. "I could feel it, everything he felt, everything he feels. Trust me, Draco, his methods may be dodgy but there's no way he could conjure those emotions. I just know they were real. Alaric and Vesper, they were in love. Claude drove them to Voldemort. Vesper only did his bidding to keep himself and Alaric safe from Claude. Alaric may be twisted but he's only what others have made him. Him and Vesper…I felt how much they loved each other, I felt how Alaric felt when he lost him. They…they're not like we thought at all, Draco."
Draco grinded his teeth together. "I don't care if theirs was the most tragic love story ever told," he snarled, "Alaric tortured me, Vesper changed what I am, he tore my life away with one bite and then tried to make me kill you! You will not make me feel shame in killing the bastard that ruined me, nor will you stop me from killing the man that seeks to steal away what I have managed to grab back. You may be filled with misplaced guilt for killing the Dark Lord but you will not make me feel such a wasteful thing. I am glad I killed Vesper for what he did to me, and I will take pleasure in sending Alaric to join him."
He saw Harry flinch at the biting rage in his voice, at the bitter vengeance causing his tone to quiver. The man looked away from him, unable to meet his eyes as he said, "I don't want to make you do anything," Harry murmured. "I just think that…Alaric and Vesper, they could've easily been us. They were forced into doing those things by circumstance, by love–"
"I cannot deny I would do exactly the same thing, exact the same pain on countless others to save you or to avenge you," Draco cut across him, "but that would not mean the victims deserved their vengeance any less." He studied Harry's eyes when they focused on him again, allowing his words to permeate the man's brain for a moment, allowing him to assume what he would from that statement, before he spoke again. "Their suffering and loss does not justify what they did to innocent people, to your friend Granger, to you, to me. Vesper deserved to pay with his life for ruining mine and Alaric the same."
"You speak of taking life so casually!" Harry snapped, glaring at him, "I can't… I can't comprehend it! You used to value life, I know you did! I saw you hesitate, saw what being ordered to kill Dumbledore did to you, even though you hated him!"
Draco felt his own expression harden. "A lot has happened since then, Potter and I have changed because of it. You have too. I do not think of life and death in the same way. Life matters to me, my own, my parents', Severus's, yours. Death matters to me in various ways. I cannot help changing–"
He was cut off by a frustrated scream tearing from Harry's lips. "You're talking like a vampire," Harry snapped, "not like Draco. You sound like Claude bloody Stanton. Can't you understand why it bothers me to hear you talk about killing someone that way?"
"The same way you can't understand why it bothers me, that you believe killing the likes of Voldemort should be an offense and try to push that belief onto others. We are all different, I am entitled to my vengeance as you are entitled to mourn the Dark Lord where no one else will, if you so choose." His tone was a little more bitter and spiteful than he'd intended, but it was too late to take it back now. His frustration with what he had realised only a few hours ago and nearly losing Harry was still coursing through him. He couldnt think straight.
"I don't choose to feel that," Harry spat, "I know it's mental, I know I shouldn't care but I took life and it's tearing me up inside to know that!"
Draco stared at his First then. This was probably the first time the man had ever admitted what had truly happened to Voldemort and he was admitting it to him before anyone else. That trust had stunned him senseless for a moment.
"You…you can't see why your carelessness for life other than those you cherish bothers me?" Harry whispered now, staring down at where his fingers were fiddling with the blankets distractedly. "I saw a good boy become an embittered lunatic, I felt what it took to make that change. There's nothing left of the boy he was." He paused then, chewing his lip before raising his chin to glare at Draco. "I can see how easy it is to lose yourself in negative emotions. I can see how easily I could fall down the same path, how you could and I…I can't bear it. I can't bear to see you become just like Alaric."
"That will never happen," Draco swore, his voice thick with intensity as he lowered himself onto the side of the bed, holding Harry's impassioned gaze. "You will never be Alaric, or Claude, you will only ever be Harry – infuriatingly good and selfless, mine." He leant in, aiming for a kiss but Harry turned his head away at the last moment.
"I'm more concerned about you," the man breathed, "I…I can't help but see us in Alaric and Vesper–"
Draco leant in again, locking his eyes with Harry's, the green of them shimmering in the candlelight. "Because we feel so strongly for each other?" he asked huskily, their lips almost touching. The words were dancing on his tongue, desperate to whisper his most intimate secret into Harry's mouth. Three words that had the power to shatter his immortal body. But the movement of Harry's lips forming words distracted him.
"Because…because I know that without thought you would sacrifice your pride, bow at Voldemort's feet, kill, die for me," Harry replied. "You would become a monster for me, just like Vesper did for Alaric and I don't want history to repeat itself. I don't want you to end up an emotionless beast like Claude and I don't…I can't lose you."
Staring at his First, his lover for a moment, Draco drank in the tone, the heartache in those words. What Harry had felt in Alaric's memories was real, it had affected him every bit as Alaric had anticipated it would, no doubt and Draco had to wonder just what the purpose was of the hunter's method of attack. Why show Harry his memories? Why make him feel them? How does this benefit him?
"You won't lose me," Draco vowed against those lips, one cool hand sliding up to rest over Harry's heart and relish in the feel of it beating there. It seemed even more of a phenomenon than before, after being faced with losing him. "I will only ever be concerned about those close to me, and I will always kill for them, for you without hesitation. That is who and what I am. But taking a life to protect one that I…cherish will not change me–"
Harry shoved suddenly at his chest, fixing him with a solemn look. "Killing for vengeance will. Don't kill Alaric, Draco. Give him to the Ministry for what he's done, send him to Azkaban but don't lose yourself in vengeance."
"Don't preach to me about things you don't understand, Harry," Draco said abruptly, giving Harry's heart a lingering caress before sliding to his feet.
"Don't talk to me like a child, I understand death and life and the whole bloody lot as much as anyone, especially seeing as I've done both!" Harry snapped.
Draco's hands clenched into fists. Harry really did have the power to wrench every emotion from his body within the space of a few minutes. "You don't understand the mind of a killer. Vesper took my life and twisted it into something bloody and dark. Whatever his reasons, he killed the boy I used to be and not even you can make me feel sorry for exacting my revenge. You also don't understand that Caius Alaric will never, ever stop until he's made me suffer for what I did. The best route to which is through you. He'll never stop-"
"Don't you dare make it out like you're doing this for me," Harry growled warningly. "Don't you dare paint anymore blood on my hands. You're doing this for yourself!"
"Yes," Draco agreed impassively. "But your safety is the reason I won't give in to you, not this time. If this were only about my vengeance I would give you what you ask, Harry, believe me."
Those eyes focused on him for a moment with such a myriad of emotions shining within that it made his own ache trying to decipher them. Harry's jaw tensed, and Draco watched the muscles and tendons work as he grinded his teeth before murmuring, "I know that sometimes the hard decisions are already made for us by circumstance, I know that. I knew I had to kill Voldemort, I know now, despite my feelings on the matter that there was no other way. It's not what you're saying that I'm disputing, it's the ease of which you're committing to it that disturbs me."
At that, it was Draco's turn to snarl with frustration. He lunged forwards, seizing Harry by the shoulders tightly and barely refraining from slamming him back against the headboard. As it was, his arms shook with the badly restrained desire. "I want to bloody shake you sometimes, Harry Potter! You're letting your guilt for killing that snake cloud your judgement, you're letting it dictate your beliefs. Why am I the one that's wrong for not tearing myself up over wanting to kill someone to protect those I love? It's you who has it wrong! Voldemort was responsible for the deaths of thousands, you saved everyone by ending his life, you saved those you love most. How can you hate yourself for that? You…"
He was shaking now. "I want to smash your head against a wall until you see how fucking stupid your mentality is! Stop playing that martyr role you love so much and open those eyes of yours! I've played along to your pity-ditty because you've been through a lot. You've died for goodness sake and that's after the vile upbringing you had, losing your parents, losing your godfather – but now here's the fact, Potter. Stop letting that misplaced guilt rule your life, because that's half the bloody reason your magic is eating you alive from the inside out! It's his magic, Harry, it's dark magic and it will never be yours until you stop letting him control you."
"He's not controlling me," Harry began, but his voice was quiet, almost inaudible even to Draco's ears.
"He is," Draco insisted. "Until you realise that killing him was the best thing you could've done, until you set yourself free from the guilt of taking his miserable excuse for a life you will be forever in his power."
Harry squirmed out of his grasp. "S-Stop making this about me! Stop directing this at me and… Just stop it! I don't hate myself. I don't – you don't know anything about me you pompous arse!"
Surveying his lover critically, Draco took a step back, giving him the space he obviously wanted. "I know you better than anyone, better than you know yourself, you absolute prat," he replied simply. "But any fool can see you're at breaking point with this. So break, let it out, Potter, scream it out if that's what it takes to let this unwarranted guilt go. What are you so afraid of?"
He could have sworn those eyes were shining with treacherous wetness then, but any tears were soon hidden by a furious scowl. "I'm not afraid. And if you really believe that my concerns for you killing Alaric stems solely from my…my guilt over killing Voldemort then that shows how little you know me, Malfoy."
With that, the man laid back on the bed, turning so that his back was facing him. It was a rejection if ever Draco had seen one and his innards clenched in agony at the sight of it. Harry was turning away from him. Alaric's plan was working.
"Harry," he began, not liking the way the man had used his last name, but Harry cut him off.
"I don't want to see you right now," the man said, keeping his back to him. "Just…just leave me be, Malfoy."
For a moment or two, Draco could not move, he remained rooted to the spot, his mind and mouth raging in search of something, anything to say to get Harry to face him again. Something told him, however, that they both needed their time with their thoughts, despite how repugnant he found it. Unable to shake the feeling that this had been Alaric's exact intentions when he had drawn Harry into his feelings and memories, Draco forced himself to about face.
"Goodnight, Harry," he murmured, before vanishing through the door, his lukewarm, dead heart feeling more alive than it ever had when he was human – alive with pain. Love was agonising.
There was a heavy atmosphere in Siddlebury cottage over the Christmas holidays, a lingering shadow like a single grey cloud in a perfectly blue sky that threatened to douse the festivities with gloom. The tempest held off, however and Harry found himself smiling more often than not, particularly as the days lead up to Christmas and he watched Tonks and Remus sneak about to fetch last minute presents for Teddy and their glee in decorating the house.
It was novel, being included in that, and despite the heavy weight of gloominess hanging over his head, there was a fluttering of happiness inside his chest as he helped them dress the cottage with an assortment of muggle and wizarding Christmas decorations. Andromeda was staying too for the holidays, filling the house with festive cheer and loving warmth that could rival Mrs Weasleys.
The Weasleys.
Harry was worried about how things were going at The Burrow and with Hermione's parents too. They were going to tell both of them on Christmas day. He was sure that their news would be accepted with love, but he was concerned about how his friends might be worrying themselves over the situation before they'd even confronted their families. Hermione in particular. She looked as if she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders recently. He just hoped Mrs Weasley didn't scold as much as he thought she might before embracing them both with loving arms.
It was now Christmas Eve, and after a stunning meal made by Andromeda (Tonks's cooking wasn't quite edible yet) he had made his excuses, smiled and headed up to his room. Christmas cards were hanging down by the bay window where he sat, staring out at the frosty evening. Snow clouds were hanging in the sky, promising snow but otherwise the night was clear and calm. Leaning his head against the comfortingly cool glass, Harry could not help but miss the soothing coldness of Draco's body as he stared at his cards. Draco hadn't sent one in reply to the one he had sent him, after they'd returned home at the end of term.
I probably hurt him by saying I didn't want to see him, Harry thought. He had dwelled on it a lot since returning home, and perhaps Draco had been right that Harry's concerns for him stemmed from his own guilt concerning Voldemort, but it wasn't purely that. It might change him immeasurably if he comes to see taking life as a necessity in all scenarios, Harry thought, running his fingers across the thin layer of mist that had gathered on the glass from condensation.
He'd bothered Kreacher nearly every hour since he'd sent the package to Draco, and he was sure that Remus and Tonks had noticed, to his mortification, but there had been nothing. Kreacher had followed him here to Siddlebury and now lived in a roomy little cupboard under the stairs, the irony of which was not lost on Harry. Harry had even allowed the elf to 'sneak' some of his treasures from Grimmauld into the hideaway, which looked almost like a little bedroom of its own now – much better than his own cupboard at Privet Drive.
The elf was healing slowly, his murmuring comments had grown fewer and fewer and he even happily took on the majority of Siddlebury's housework and would appear suddenly whenever Teddy tossed a bowl of baby food on the floor or similar. In fact, Teddy was so delighted with him that he would often make a mess on purpose just to see him. It pleased Harry that the elf was slowly healing. He would always be a bitter old coot, Harry thought, but it was clear that the busy environment and endless things to do was having a positive effect on the creature.
Perhaps Hermione really is wrong aboout House Elves, and Dobby really was one of a kind, Harry thought, it was an undeniable fact, that Kreacher loved to work. Draco had suggested Harry set up filtering charms for his mail, but that was also a task that Kreacher had taken on with relish. A proud, almost pompous look would befall his features whenever he magically checked all of Harry's mail, filtering out the gems from the rubble so that the public could not bother him. Siddlebury was under extensive protection charms of course, but that would not stop the smart owls from finding him just by name alone. Owls like Hedwig.
His gut clenched at the memory of his old friend. Hedwig would have instinctively known Harry's feelings and pecked at the vampire's fingers until she'd got a decent enough reply from him, even if he hadn't asked for one aloud. She'd known his feelings even when he didn't, just like Draco often seemed to.
With a sigh, he stroked the iridescent scar of Draco's mark at his throat and felt it tingle pleasantly. At that, a startling realisation shot through him. Draco would be needing to feed, he hadn't since two days before the end of term. Oh shit! Harry thought, leaping to his feet, his eyes wide, panic sweeping through him. What if something happened at his parents? What if he's starving again? What if he hasn't replied because he…?
"Kreacher!" Harry called. The elf appeared almost instantly before him, wearing a ridiculously large christmas hat which had two holes for his large bat-like ears. He was also wearing an old green jumper of Remus's that hung down to his toes and a ring of multi-coloured tinself around his neck that Teddy had insisted on putting there.
"Master is being mopey in the festive season," Kreacher mumbled gruffly. "Kreacher is thinking you should be enjoying yourself with the others."
"I know, I know," Harry said impatiently, he thought he had been enjoying his first holiday with his 'family' quite well, he didn't feel awkward at all, in fact, but there was no time to argue. "I need you to go to Malfoy manor for me and tell Draco Malfoy I need to see him. Don't take any excuses, make sure you give that message to him directly. It's urgent."
At that, creature gave a deep bow. "At once, Master," Kreacher replied, clearly gleeful at being given a more important order than even safe-guarding Harry's post. Wait. That was it. A pop signalled Kreacher's departure, just as Harry realised that he had neglected to ask the elf just how Alaric's owl had managed to pass through his strict safe-guarding. When he was at Hogwarts, the owls were directed to Kreacher before being sent onto him. So how had that one reached him?
He could only ask Kreacher when the elf returned, but that would have to take a back seat until Draco was taken care of. What if he was rendered insane with hunger the way he had been at the start of term in Snape's rooms? What if something had happened to prevent Draco from answering his card?
Moments that felt like hours passed, during which he'd paced until he swore he was wearing a hole in the floor. That was until he struggled to find rationality in the situation and stopped himself. Draco was probably just angry at him, probably just giving him the (only partially deserved) silent treatment.
And he's going to be hungry, Harry thought, caressing the scarred side of his throat again as he headed into the small shower-room that lead off of his bedroom. He still smelled faintly of the baby sick Teddy had generously vomited up on him after a game of 'aeroplane' after dinner. Draco won't want to smell that when he feeds, Harry thought, trying to give himself a practical distraction.
The sound of the steamy water cascading into the shower cubicle helped to drown out his thoughts for a moment. But only a moment. A growl of frustration left his lips as he slammed his palms hard into the tiles, the water rushing over his skin. Not even that could help to soothe him. He clawed at the tiles with his nails. Draco wouldn't have left it this long to see him even if he hated him, he physically couldn't!
His hunger would drive him to me despite any discrepancies between us. So why isn't he here?
He didn't think he had felt this panicked or lost or afraid since Dumbledore had died. He didn't know what to do, or where to begin in even processing the limitless awful possibilities that were rushing through his head with all the speed of a freight train. All of the progress he had made in not blindly bolting into every problem, not believing he was the only cure for them all went out the window when it came to Draco. No one could protect him as well as he could, not even his parents. If Draco had been hurt because he had severed their contact in the Hospital Wing that day, he didn't know what he'd do.
He dried himself purposefully hard, deeming his skin unworthy of more delicate attention before dragging on his bath robe and tying it around his waist. Draco, he thought, directing his voice towards wherever Draco now was.
Suddenly, his mark gave a jolting throb and his hand flew to his throat, just as a loud pop tore through the silence of his room. He flew through the bathroom door, skidding to a halt, relief rushing through his veins like fire through a woodland at who he saw standing there.
Kreacher gave Draco a low, respectful bow before vanishing again with a pop, leaving Harry alone with a flustered looking Draco Malfoy. The vampire looked almost white, his eyes were black with hunger but he seemed frantic about something than ran much deeper than that. Harry opened his mouth to question him, but before he could get a word out, Draco had shot to his side, gripping his biceps with his hands tightly. Enough to bruise.
"Harry," the vampire gasped, his dark eyes scanning his face for something. Harry couldn't guess what. "What's wrong? Are you alright?"
Harry blinked. "Am I–? Why didn't you answer my card? Why haven't you come to me to feed? I thought something bloody awful must've happened to you!"
"Me?! Your elf came charging into my home nearly rugby tackling my elves and my mother and not stopping until he got to me!" Draco snapped. "He kept shrieking at the top of his lungs that you needed me and then I heard you call my name in my head – what the bloody hell am I supposed to think?!"
Staring at his vampire, dumfounded, Harry cried, "And what the fuck were you doing ignoring my card before that?"
"The card you didn't even sign?" Draco taunted.
If he hadn't been so fraught with worry mere moments ago, Harry might have blushed at that. He hadn't known what to write in the magical, glistening Christmas card that snowed on cue whenever opened, accompanied by the soft, subtle ringing of sleigh bells. He didn't know what to write partially because he knew Draco was expecting an apology he only partially deserved from him and partly because he felt a bit silly. What did a man write in a card to his boyfriend? Did they even send cards?
"I…I didn't… You knew it was me, you'd be able to smell it, isn't it the thought that's meant to be important?" Harry retorted defensively. "How am I supposed to know what men do and don't do when they're–"
"Indeed I could sense the sender, even your…feelings you were experiencing when you sent it," Draco cut across him, his lips suddenly breaking into a smirk. "It makes a difference to the scent, you know? And I wish you wouldn't concern yourself with what men should do, we've only ourselves to please. We can do as we wish."
"Fine, well I wish you'd replied to me so I didn't start thinking you'd starved to death or worse!" Harry said, feeling a little awkward now he realised he had worried over nothing.
"It was you that claimed to desire space in the first place, so don't turn into a little nag on me," Draco admonished. "If you must know it was the very thoughtfulness of your card and accompanying gift that made me realise that it would be a crime to return to you without an equally worthy offering."
At that, Harry fidgeted on the spot awkwardly. The vampire stepped closer again, his hands sliding down Harry's sides and his hunger darkened eyes studying him as Harry managed out, "it wasn't anything that amazing…"
"You are so bloody shy about showing affection that any display of any kind is a monumental one," Draco corrected him. "And besides which, like the Solaris Sphere, this was something you gave me because you care for me, wasn't it?" With that, the vampire reached into the folds of his crisp white shirt, retrieving a mortifyingly familiar golden chain, on which hung an ornate snake charm, a tiny vial of crimson fluid clutched between its fangs. His blood.
He had been worried it was a morbid thought, but his blood was precious to Draco for various reasons and more than that, the gift was an ever-present safe-guard to Draco's life. If he ever needed the replenishing abilities of Harry's blood, he had magically contained enough to last him a few days in there. It was only the practicality of the gift that had allowed Harry to move beyond the uncertainty of it at all, but if Draco's expression was any way to tell, the gift had been the right one.
Those dark eyes were smouldering with feelings he couldn't even begin to separate. "I am sure you must remember me telling you not to play down something that I consider a highly treasured gift," the vampire murmured. "Even if you haven't the words to express how you feel, your gift express them quite well, I was…taken aback by it, touched. I didn't think there was anything I could say or do in answer that would be adequate enough other than an equally personal treasure."
"So that's why you made me worry about you? Why you ignored me?" Harry asked, his anger was diminished slightly by Draco's words but the anxiety had bubbled up to a froth in his belly and was taken a while to quieten. "Because you thought I'd rather see a gift than you? How many days does it take to buy a present anyway?"
Draco's smirk broadened, probably due to the dwindling aggression in his voice. He could tell his fury was fading now that he was here. He knows that I missed him, that I worried about him, Harry thought, pulling his bath robe tighter around his body, quite aware suddenly that he was all-too exposed as his flush travelled down his face, throat and across his chest.
"The gift had to be the perfect one, I searched rigorously to be sure of the quality," Draco explained, as if this were the most logical thing in the world. "I had intended to arrive later on tonight with it, I'd only just finished wrapping it, you see before your elf burst in on me, however…"
At this point, Draco took a step to the side, gesturing to the large package that Harry had not seen until now. It was finely wrapped in smooth, matt gold paper with glossy silver ribbon that glittered as he inclined his head to look on it better. "Before you discredit my excuse, perhaps you should evaluate your gift for yourself?"
Harry blinked stupidly. Recieving gifts was still something he found an awkward yet thrilling experience. It was like being reduced to a child again, making up for the lack of generous, heart-felt offerings he had had whilst growing up, most probably. Even now, Harry's gaze flickered from Draco to the finely wrapped package uncertainly.
"Open it," Draco urged him, his voice and eyes reflecting obvious anticipation of his, Harry's reaction to the gift.
What on earth has he spent so much time choosing for me? He wondered, dropping down onto his knees to begin tugging at the delicately tied silver ribbon. "How is it that your wrapping skills are so pristine?" Harry asked. It was almost a shame to disturb the fine bow.
"Mother used to get me to help her wrap the presents for her friends and father's colleagues when I was young, it is something I just learned," Draco said dismissively. "Open it."
At that, Harry gave in to curiosity and the rush of excitement and tore the wrappings away. His breath caught at what was left beneath it. There was a fine yet sturdy looking silver cage with glistening clasps and joints and there within on the perch sat a white-breasted barn owl. Her golden eyes stared up at him as he surveyed her, her dusty honey coloured wings stretching slightly as if she were trying to impress him with her plumege.
Harry could not help but grin at that. The little creature reminded him oddly of Draco in that way; Draco also liked to show off for him. Maybe that's why he chose this one, because it's like him, he thought as he pushed the clasp open on the cage, offering his forearm for the owl to hop onto.
"It's a she," Draco clarified for him, his tone filled with apprehension, as if he were unsure of Harry's reaction to his 'gift'.
She shimmied gracefully onto his arm, and Harry straightened up, watching the soft light of the room dance across her downy feathers. She couldn't have been more than forty centimetres tall, surprisingly light and was both like and yet completely different from Hedwig. He had never gotten another owl, he hadn't been able to face choosing one, not after he had lost his precious friends. But Draco, he had chosen perfectly.
"She's beautiful," Harry murmured in awe, caressing the owl's breast feathers gently. She stretched subtly, welcoming the touch. "Does she have a name?" For the first time since the wrapping had been torn away, he looked at Draco and found a warm, doting look touching his features. The vampire was staring at him, positively enamoured.
"You don't want to name her?" Draco asked with a curious lilt in his voice. Harry looked back to the owl thoughtfully.
"I want you to."
"The Latin name of her species is Tyto Alba," Draco announced after a moment. "I would suggest Alba?"
The owl gave a baleful hoot and Harry smirked when he realised that was the creature's way of telling him his hand had stopped its stroking. She seemed incredibly focused on him, hungry for attention. Just like Draco, he thought with amusement, lifting the cage with his other hand and setting it on the side. He left the generously sized door open for Alba to hop in and out as she pleased, before coaxing her back onto the perch. She fluffed her wings, seemingly eager for more attention and from Harry's side came a small laugh.
"She likes you already," Draco mused, stepping forward and offering Harry a large bag of Eeylops owl treats, pressing the one in his hand into Alba's outreaching claw. "That should pacify her. She's a voracious little thing, I'm glad you like her."
Voracious. Insatiable, just like you, Harry's mind supplied.
"She's perfect," Harry said, meaning it. He winced then. "I can't believe I bought you jewellery with my blood in…" He groaned. What had he been thinking? Draco's gift was so thought out, so personal and full of…love. Mine was full of his favourite food!
A soft flutter of a laugh drifted over his ears, his only warning before Draco was standing chest-to-chest with him his fingers caressing the line of Harry's jaw until Harry lifted his chin and met his eyes. "It was more than that," Draco breathed, his words dancing across Harry's slightly parted lips. Harry had accidentally directed those thoughts to Draco, evidently. "It means more to me than blood, as do you."
Harry's skin tingled with the tide of blood suffusing his cheeks with colour. He breathed out shakily, searching for the rational conversation he had been practicing, playing over and over in his head every night since he had told Draco to leave him be. Despite the rehearsal, it was now nothing more than a garbled mess in his head. "I…" He chewed on the inside of his lip, searching for his nerve. "I killed Voldemort," he managed out. "I saw things, felt things in Alaric's memories that not only made me afraid for you but me too. I still don't want you to kill Alaric but I…I saw Voldemort and I…I wasn't sorry, or guilty. I wasn't…"
Why was it that words were so easily thrown about on some occasions and yet were so difficult to come by on others?
"This…feeling, this denial you all say I have. I've realised it's not guilt, I'm not guilty that I ended him, I'm not regretful. I'm just…I'm afraid how little I hesitated when I cast that spell. I…I staggered, but I cast it with every ounce of power in me, I unleashed the most brutal, efficient spell the books of our ancestors yielded to me and I took a life. And it wasn't as difficult as it used to be."
A deafening silence fell through the room, during which Harry glanced to Alba again. She was tugging happily with her beak at the treat she held in her talons. He smiled sadly. "Hedwig was only one of the loved ones I lost to him," he whispered. "But when I was faced with Bellatrix in the Department of Mysteries when I was fifteen, I couldn't even cast the Cruciatus curse properly. I was…I was a good person, I couldn't kill. I've…I've changed. I've killed. I'm not the boy I was anymore. I – I killed far too easily. I'm not as good as I once was anymore."
There it was, the confusion, the fear, the truth out there in the open. He'd finally done exactly what Draco and everyone else had urged him to do. He'd admitted it. His darkest secret. Only, perhaps it was the way he said it, but it sounded quite foolish once the words were actually in the air.
Draco looked at him critically. "You listen to me, Harry Potter," the vampire began rigidly. "Every man has their flaws, their darkness inside of them, but that doesn't make them bad. By comparison, I am the devil, you know. You aren't perfect, Harry, but you are far from bad. You saved people – everyone. You're brave and foolish and caring, you care so bloody much it's driving you insane!"
Harry scoffed but Draco seized him roughly at the sound, passion burning in his dark eyes. "You listen to me, Potter," he growled. "You – you are the purest, most kind, warm-hearted person in my life. You have the power to light me up from the inside like my own bloody sun. You'd give your life to a stranger in an instant. If every 'bad' man was like you then the world would be a lot better off. Your worst flaw is that you worry whether your good deeds were done for the best! I've seen enough evil in my life to know it well, you are a good man, Harry. So let the past go, for yourself, for your friends. For me."
Speechless for a moment, Harry just stared at the vampire, this man, his lover, stunned by the truth he was speaking. Let go? It sounded so simple but felt so much harder. And yet, the task seemed to be a less arduous one with those darkened eyes looking avidly into his own.
A hurricane of emotion and pain and adoration spiralled from the dark pit in his stomach that had been weighing him down for so long, surging up to explode in his chest. His eyes stung with the overwhelming relief of the burden finally being lifted from his shoulders alone. He had made the first difficult, shaky step, Draco, his friends, they would help him shoulder this weight from now on. The release was so profound he felt quite giddy with it.
A small, nervous laugh brushed past his lips before he launched himself across the short distance between him and Draco, slamming his mouth against the vampire's. The sound was swallowed quickly by those lips, devoured along with the explosion of emotion that was threatening to drown him from the inside. He wrapped his arms around Draco's neck, gasping frantically into the moist cavern of his mouth, lashing that tongue with his own.
If there had ever been a doubt left in his mind about Draco, those qualms had been eradicated by those words.
With a groan of bliss, Harry drew back from the kiss wetly, his eyes shining as they surveyed Draco. Whatever these feelings where that he felt for Draco, they were the strongest he had ever felt about anyone in his entire life. Without a shred of uncertainty, Harry raised his unsteady hands to the ties of his bath robe, tugging it open until it shuddered down his body, pooling at his feet.
A thousand different things were happening for the first time with the vampire before him. No one had ever known this much about him nor seen so much of him so intimately in all his life, and he didn't think anyone ever would, either. But most prominent of them all, he had never wanted so much in all his days.
"What are you playing at, Potter?" Draco asked huskily, his fangs exposed in an uncertain yet indisputably aroused smirk.
Harry took a step towards him, chin raised despite his nervousness. "I want you," he replied evenly, "I want you to take me, on my bed and I want you to give me the best bloody orgasm of my life while you're inside of me." His skin was flushed with his words but his voice did not so much as tremble. He tilted his head slightly, feeling the arousal rush off Draco's body in thick, heady waves. He could still taste the vampire's spittle on his lips. "Are you up to the challenge, Malfoy?"
A yelp left his lips as he was seized and thrown unceremoniously onto the bed. The frame gave a great creak but held out, even when Draco pounced on him with a snarl of pleasure, straddling Harry's legs as he pressed a hungry kiss to his lips. Harry arched his naked body up into the vampire's clothed one, panting eagerly as that tongue ravished his mouth. "Oh, definitely up to it, Potter," Draco answered heatedly, grinding back into Harry's hips as he shrugged off his shirt.
Harry's fingers glided down that slowly warming pale skin, brushing the flat of his palms across those nipples, those ribs, the vampire's taut stomach. The muscles tightened beneath Harry's touch. "Is this your way of making me forget that I was worried out of my mind for you?" Harry asked, "that I still don't want you to kill Alaric? By flaunting your body at me?" There was a teasing lilt in his voice, but his words were serious. He hadn't forgotten about one of their more pressing problems. It was just that being with Draco in the most intimate way possible, right now seemed more important than anything else.
"Do I amaze you, Potter?" Draco murmured, tilting Harry's chin up and caressing the taut line of his throat with his fangs and lips. Harry's adam's apple moved under his attentions and a low, rumbling groan vibrated through his throat. "Tonight is about us, no one else." He punctuated his words by nipping gently at his collarbone.
"Yes," the chosen one agreed hazily, jerking suddenly from his delirium by feeling something blunt pressed against his lips. This was his only warning before liquid trickled down his throat. He recognised the taste immediately and drank down the Temporentia Sensium before opening his eyes to gaze up at Draco. Even through the fog of hunger and lust, Draco had forced himself to remember the Temportentia Sensium, had put his, Harry's safety before even his own pleasure, even when he was finally getting the one thing he had most likely been thinking about for weeks.
He cares about me, Harry thought, warmth sweeping through him at the notion. He was the most important thing to Draco, above all else. He had never been that to anyone. It felt good. He wanted Draco to feel that same specialness, wanted him to be clear once and for all how important he was to Harry, even if Harry didn't know what that truly meant. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips.
"I have never trusted anyone, cared enough for anyone, let anyone in close enough to be this intimate with me," Harry murmured heatedly, holding Draco's gaze and bearing his soul through their locked eyes so that Draco could have no room to misinterpret him. "I've never wanted anyone so much. Needed them, I feel like I need you to…to complete me."
Draco gave a dazed smile at that and Harry flushed darker than ever before, wrapping his legs tightly round Draco's and closing his eyes. He couldn't hold that gaze as he spoke his next words. "I…I need you. I want you. Take me, please. Make me…yours."
There was no reply, only the soft sound of his and Draco's breathing, his own frantic heartbeat. That was until a kiss brushed his lips with feather-light gentleness. "With pleasure," Draco purred in answer, his voice filled with all the heady, intense pleasures to come. Foreshadowing the best night of Harry Potter's life.
~To Be Continued...