Something about Tom's hand on his elbow was making him feel suffocated but despite that, there was a despicable part of him that didn't want Tom to relinquish his hold. He could still feel Tom's mouth on his neck, his warm tongue against his skin… The slide of his hand on his cock… The sheer bliss he'd felt when Tom had brought him to climax. In that moment, his vision had gone completely white and all his rationality had left him. He had never experienced something like that before and there was a part of him that craved more of it…But…He was also aware that he would need to exercise caution. Tom had nearly bitten his lip and it had taken him every ounce of concentration to pull away at the last moment and stop him. He knew…He knew that Tom would know who he was if he ever got a taste of his blood.
He felt the gazes of everyone in the vicinity plaster to them as he walked alongside Tom but the gaze that almost scorched his skin belonged to Fenrir. He drew in a silent breath to steady himself and whispered into Tom's ear,
"I think we're garnering quite the attention…"
Tom chuckled softly,
"Do you not like it?"
He shook his head silently and grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing server,
"I think it's unnecessary."
He sipped the sweet liquid and commended his own choice. Tom took the glass from his hand and took a sip from exactly the same place he'd taken one a couple of seconds ago. After a moment of deliberation, he smacked his lips and purred,
"It tastes exactly like you."
He inquired hesitantly,
"Do you like how I taste?"
Tom nodded imperceptibly and Harry stifled a smirk. That was one win… He planned to have many more. He was about to take the glass back when Tom pulled it out of reach. He snatched it back and downed the champagne in one before Tom could take it away again. Tom was eyeing the now empty glass with resentment and it took him everything he had in him to stop himself from grinning in victory. He was going to make Tom pay for that singular moment of helplessness. He was never going to allow that to happen again.
He pulled his elbow away from Tom's hand and spoke,
"It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Voldemort but I should be going now."
He was about to walk away when Tom grabbed a hold of his wrist,
"When shall I see you again?"
Harry pretended to think about it before speaking,
"Soon."
But not soon enough.
He extracted his wrist from Tom's hold before walking away and making his way through the crowd. It took him a minute to navigate his way through the corridors and reach the surveillance room. He dismissed the surveillance guy with an annoyed gesture and when he was certain that he was alone, he went through the camera footages of the past one hour just to ensure that his encounter with Tom hadn't been caught on tape.
He'd been right in his assessment. Tom really had picked a blind spot. He could breathe a little easier now since there was no evidence of what had happened between them except for his and Tom's memories and the marks on his skin.
He collapsed in the seat and loosened up his bowtie as he watched Tom mingling with the crowd in the cameras. A knock on the door forced his attention away from the screen and he spoke,
"Come in."
The door was opened and Mark stepped in. Harry closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat,
"Mr. Greyback wanted me to check up on you…"
Harry ran his fingers through his hair as he thought about how much explaining he'd have to do to convince Fenrir that everything was okay,
"Tell him I'm fine."
He opened his eyes and looked Mark in the eye. Mark instantly averted his gaze and spoke,
"I know it's none of my business, Sir… But… Those marks don't look too good…Did he…?"
Mark's voice died down as he failed to voice his thoughts, but Harry heard them loud and clear. He touched his neck thoughtfully and spoke,
"It was consensual… Besides what makes you think I'd allow him to do something to me that I didn't approve of?"
Mark nodded but he didn't seem satisfied,
"Don't underestimate him, Sir."
Harry's hands balled into fists but he resisted the urge to snap at Mark because he knew that Mark only had his best interests at heart. Mark was about to leave when Harry spoke,
"I need to kill someone."
Mark nodded silently and exited the room. He sighed out in frustration and stared at Tom's perfect face on the screen. He hated how conflicted he'd made him feel…hated how helpless he'd made him… hated how effortlessly he'd stolen his rationality. He was never going to allow that to happen again. He wasn't delusional enough to think that he was stronger than Tom, but he was definitely smarter. Tom might hold the power to weaken him but he had the brains to reduce him to nothing.
He pulled off the bowtie all together and took off his suit jacket. He was just in the process of folding up his sleeves when the door opened again and a trembling, cowering man was deposited at his feet by Mark. Harry looked down at the man and the fear in his eyes was enough to shatter his control over his bloodlust… It didn't matter who the man was…what his name was… what his history was…In that moment, all that man was to him was a vessel to pour out his pent up frustration in,
"Should I ungag him, Sir?"
Harry nodded silently as he busied himself with picking a weapon. The man started pleading and begging as soon as the gag was removed and it irked him to no end so he decided to kill the man with his bare hands,
"Lock the door. I don't want to be disturbed."
Mark obeyed instantly and Harry was instantly blinded by a five-course serving of bloodlust that tasted bitter, yet surprisingly satisfying. He sprung on him and when his fist came in contact with his nose the man began wailing in pain. The sounds the man was making only served to increase his high. The man struggled to move away from him, and Harry signalled Mark to cut the zip ties that bound his hands and ankles. Mark did as he was told, and Harry watched as the man instantly began to back away from him. Harry allowed him the illusion of freedom for a minute before he tackled him and held him down so he couldn't fight back. Harry seriously doubted he could've anyway as his fists continued to hit his face. With every hit, he visualized Tom's perfect face in place of the man's and that made it all the more sweet.
By the time he was done, the man's face was reduced to a bloody pulp and his own knuckles were coated with a mixture of both their blood. He was still alive though but too weak to make any more sounds so that practically made him useless. He snapped his neck in one go before rising to his feet. He collapsed back in the chair and Mark began cleaning his hands, first with a damp cloth and then with an antiseptic before he bandaged them.
He felt calmer now…more composed…more ready to take on Tom then he'd felt an hour ago. In fact, he already had a plan of action in mind.
