A/N: Before we start, just a real quick warning for a spot of gang violence. Sooo, yeah. Be warned. Okay, warnings over let's start right now I'm so excited ohmygod let's do this yaay!
(I GOT YOU) UNDER MY WHEELS
CHAPTER FIVE
Harry could not forget. No matter what he tried, he could not seem to stop thinking about Draco. He had spent every minute of the past five days thinking about Draco and wondering what the blond was up to. Was he thinking about Harry too? Was he dreaming about his touch the same way Harry was? Was he also driving himself mad with memories?
Groaning, Harry cracked his neck as he danced back on his toes, keeping his footwork light as he ducked a punch aimed for his cheek. He responded with a swift uppercut, smirking to himself when he made contact with Moony's jaw. The thick boxing gloves strapped to his hands made Harry's arms feel bigger and much longer than they really were.
Moony grinned and shook off the punch, stepping closer to deliver a series of quick jabs to Harry's chest that he wasn't able to fully dodge. "What happened to all those reflexes?"
"They're still there," Harry chuckled breathlessly, avoiding another punch to his chest before sinking a solid hit into Moony's solar plexus. "You're the reason I'm so bloody tired, we've been in here for ages."
"Just making sure you know how to look after yourself," Moony replied, catching Harry off-guard with a hit to the side of his head.
"Fuck," Harry swore, groaning out a laugh. "Jesus, Moony, aren't you supposed to be all old and frail or something? Christ."
Moony smirked, sinking into a strange leaping spin, one so graceful it looked out of place anywhere but in a ballet studio, before slamming into Harry and taking him down in a single strong move. "Sorry, kid, what was that about my age again?"
Harry rolled his eyes, struggling to free himself before giving up with a reluctant grin. "Fine, I get it. You still have at least a few more years before the nursing home."
Moony's smirk widened as he pushed down on Harry's chest before releasing him. He rolled away with a groan, lying flat on his back as his chest heaved up and down. "I think you need to remember who it was who actually trained you."
"And one day I'll beat you too," Harry retorted, struggling to catch his breath. His shirt was sticky with sweat, clinging to him in a cold, uncomfortable way now that he wasn't moving around so much. He tore the straps of the gloves open with his teeth, his heavy breathing momentarily drowned out by the loud ripping sound of Velcro separating.
Sitting up, he tossed the gloves into the corner of the room as he flexed his fingers, cracking his knuckles and shaking the joints out. It felt like they had been sparring for hours.
"I've been waiting for that day for nearly a decade now."
"Oi, it'll happen," Harry complained, using his fingers to comb back the damp hair hanging in his eyes.
Moony chuckled. "And the day it does is the day I'll believe it."
Rolling his eyes, Harry pushed himself to his feet, shaking his arms out as he slipped from the boxing ring and headed to the wall, where his bottle of beautifully cold water sat waiting.
"Is everything okay, Harry?"
The unexpected question, coupled with a concerned tone and the use of Harry's real name, made him pause, lowering the water bottle before turning back to face Remus. "What do you mean?"
Moony stared at him for several seconds before sighing. "You seem distracted. I landed way more hits today than I normally do. What's going on?"
"Nothing," Harry shrugged, forcing the word out through a fake smile, one that felt as stiff as cardboard.
Moony scoffed in disbelief. "Oh, please. You inherited all of your lying abilities from your dad. I can see right through you, kid."
Harry rolled his eyes at the final word. He may be the youngest patched member of the club, but he sure as hell wasn't a kid. But the problem was that growing up in the club made it hard for the older members to see him as anything but the child they had all helped look after.
"Excuse you, I am a grown man," Harry huffed, fighting a smile as he saw Moony's lips twitch, "with grown man problems, thank you."
The smile threatening to break across Moony's face finally cracked through. "So, what are these grown man problems that you have so many of, huh?
Sighing, Harry took a long draught of water to avoid answering the question. He did not want to have to explain to Remus of all people about all the problems and confusion in his romantic life. It was times like this that he missed Sirius the most because he wouldn't have hesitated to speak to Sirius about the situation. He had never been closer with anyone than he had been with Sirius, and he would have given anything to be able to discuss it all with the man, even though he already knew what Sirius's response would have been. Sirius had always had a 'fuck the consequences' sort of approach to everything in life, and Harry knew that he would have encouraged him to go after the things he wanted, even if that thing happened to be a contrary blond already in a relationship with a rival gang member.
"What's wrong, Harry?" Moony asked softly, eyeing Harry with the same sort of protective parental light in his eyes that Harry had grown used to with Sirius.
"Just, you know…" Harry shrugged again, feeling so far past awkward it was almost comical, "gay stuff."
Moony snorted. "Right. So, another grown man then?"
"Obviously," Harry huffed. "With a shitload of grown man baggage and everything."
Remus frowned. "What sort of baggage? This isn't a hangaround, is it?"
"No," Harry said, wishing it were as simple as falling for a random hangaround. "He, er, is some bloke I met a little while back. Sort of like this instant connection kinda thing, you know?"
The frown remained on Moony's face. "Right. So, he's interested in you too then? This isn't some sort of hopeless pining thing going on?"
"I don't pine!" Harry denied immediately, pausing in the next second as he wondered if he did maybe pine just a bit. He certainly hadn't been able to stop thinking about Draco, that was for sure. But was it pining? Or just common interest?
The corners of Moony's lips tugged up into a small smile. "Too grown and manly to pine?"
"Piss off," Harry chuckled, slumping down onto the nearby bench stretched along the wall. "I'm not some teenage girl, you know. This is real shit!"
"So what's the baggage then?" Remus said in a serious voice, dropping down onto the bench beside him.
A deep sigh escaped Harry. "Well…I dunno, maybe it's not so serious after all…"
"Harry," Moony said, his familiar soft voice washing over Harry like a balm. Even if Harry did not have Sirius in his life any longer, he still had Remus, and would hopefully always have Remus. No matter how lonely Harry felt at times, he needed to remember that he was not alone. Remus cared for him like a father, and Harry could talk to him about anything.
"He's in a relationship," Harry confessed dully, staring down at his worn trainers. "With some dickhead. Some bloke twice his age who he's not even happy with."
"Ah," Moony frowned. "That is some baggage. And he won't leave him? How serious is it?"
"Pretty serious," Harry sighed, thinking back to that damned silver ring Draco wore on his thumb. God, he hated that stupid ring. "And it's not so much that he's unwilling to leave him. It's more like he's too scared to even consider it." Harry's fists clenched as he thought back to the flashes of fear he had seen in Draco's eyes whenever he talked about the mysterious Fen, whoever the hell the tosser was.
The frown on Moony's face deepened. "He's scared? Of the man he's with? What exactly is he scared of his old man doing to him?"
Groaning in frustration, Harry raked his hands through his hair, wondering if he should tell Moony just who it was he was interested in. But what if Remus took Ron's side and advised against chasing after a Death Eater's property?
But no, Harry didn't think Remus would. The man was nowhere near as quick-tempered as Ron and was certainly more careful about the things he said.
Taking a deep breath, Harry opened his mouth to confess everything to Remus, every tiny complication between him and Draco, when the sudden slamming of the front door being thrown wide open and bouncing off the wall made their heads snap in the direction of the sound.
"Harry! Remus!" Ron gasped, practically falling into the room. "Hurry! It's Fred and George! A bunch of Death Eaters showed up out of nowhere!"
"Shit," Harry swore, jumping to his feet. He could hear Moony hurrying after him as they fled the gym, racing to where their bikes were parked. One leg was flung hurriedly over the machine, and he wasted no time in starting the engine.
"They're right down the street," Ron yelled. "Charlie and I just happened to drive past and saw what was happening. He told me to hurry and get you 'cause you were the closest, but it's just those three on their own!"
Without another word, Ron took off, leaving a trail of dust behind him as he roared off down the empty street. Harry and Moony followed, and Harry could feel his entire body tense with the anticipation of a fight. If the Death Eaters really thought they could stroll right into Hallows' territory and attack Harry's brothers, he would show them just how stupid an idea that was.
What seemed like both seconds and hours later, Ron was veering to the left, and Harry's eyes locked onto the violent scene before them. Clouds of dust billowed up around the group of men fighting, and Harry could clearly spot the red hair of his brothers scattered throughout the brawl. He was relieved to see all three of them still on their feet.
Throwing his bike down and not caring if it scuffed, Harry, Ron, and Remus ran over to the fight, not hesitating to throw themselves into the middle of it. Harry smiled darkly as he dodged a punch, feeling his body twist instinctually as he slammed one fist into the ugly face of a Death Eater. He then snapped that same arm back, catching another man in the nose with his elbow and feeling his smile widen at the grunt of pain the action caused in the unknown man. He spun around, trying to mimic the graceful move Remus had showcased earlier, catching one man across the jaw with his knuckles. He caught the same man by the collar of his shirt, yanking him forward and smashing his forehead into the man's nose, feeling a warm splash of blood hit his face before he threw the man violently to the ground.
Another man stepped into his place, flinging one leg out in a desperate attempt to catch Harry in the groin. A growl escaped Harry as he blocked the kick, throwing the man off balance before Harry smashed his fist into the assailant's windpipe, hearing a choked gurgle in response as the man dropped to his knees in shock, struggling to breathe. Harry lifted one knee sharply, catching him in the brow and sending him backward into the dirt.
But a sudden pain blooming across the side of his head made him stagger back in surprise, and Harry's eyes narrowed the moment he spotted Wolf grinning widely at him, drawing back the fist he had hit Harry with. Harry sneered at the man, pulling his arms close to his body and dropping his weight into his knees as they circled one another, both waiting for the other to strike first.
"How'd you like my present?" Harry taunted, feeling the skin tighten over his knuckles as he clenched his fists tighter. "How badly did you miss your steering wheel?"
Wolf's eyes flashed as the grin dropped from his face a moment before an enraged, strangled sort of howl tore from his throat. Faster than Harry was expecting, Wolf leapt toward him, swinging one large fist. Harry forced his body to stay loose as he rolled back with the punch, allowing it to glance off his jaw before swinging upward with one smooth motion, catching Wolf in the mouth with a hit strong enough to send the man reeling back.
A glare crossed Wolf's face as he spat out a few thin strands of blood, pulling his lips back in a snarl and showing a mouthful of sharp, bloodied teeth. Harry wanted to smash every single one in.
"I'll rip your fucking throat out," Wolf growled, snapping his teeth at Harry like a hyena.
"Not before I choke you with your own teeth," Harry retorted, pausing to deliver a hard punch to a man attempting to sneak up behind Fred. The moment Harry hit him, he spun away, knowing that someone like Wolf would use his distraction to his advantage. Harry grinned to himself as he felt Wolf's large body sail past him, not expecting Harry to have moved so quickly.
Reaching out, Harry caught Wolf by the back of the vest, throwing him to the ground before kicking him in the ribs. Wolf grunted at the impact, attempting to roll away, only to get caught up in the legs of another Death Eater, sending the unknown man to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Harry smirked at the sight, managing to get in another hard kick to Wolf's chest before the man freed himself from his fallen brother. Harry didn't think it was actually Wolf that Draco belonged to, since he couldn't imagine such a repulsive monster ever getting to touch someone like Draco, but until Harry could get his hands on whoever the hell it was that the blond really did belong to, he would enjoy treating Wolf as an adequate substitute.
Following after Wolf and his pathetic attempts to stand, Harry kicked out hard, catching Wolf in the face and watching a spray of blood hit the dirt with indifferent eyes. A large gash had opened up along Wolf's left eyebrow, leaving rust-colored rivulets running down the man's cheek and obscuring his vision. The blood ran into his eye, staining the pupil red as Wolf tried to blink it away.
"Don't worry, bitch," Harry said, smirking darkly down at the man, "you'll get your fucking truck back. One piece at a time."
A scream of rage erupted from Wolf as he jumped to his feet, reaching into his back pocket for something, and Harry felt his heart stop cold at the quiet sound of a knife flicking open. Shit. Fuck. Harry didn't have any weapons on him! He still had his trainers on, he wasn't even wearing boots, for fuck's sake!
Heart racing, Harry took a deep breath, reminding himself that Moony had trained him to avoid knife attacks. He would be fine. If he could avoid attacks from Remus, then he sure as hell could dodge Wolf, who was a much clumsier and more grandiose fighter. He would go for the big, flashy moves, not the sharp, subtle flicks that Harry himself tended to favor due to Remus's training. All in all, Harry estimated it would take less than seven moves to successfully disarm the man.
Glaring a fierce grin at the brunet, Wolf jumped forward, slashing his knife through the air without caring that he barely missed one of his own brothers as Harry easily dodged the attack. He stepped to the side, forcing Wolf to adjust himself in response as he again slashed through the air, one slash after another that Harry managed to avoid, swinging the knife in movements large enough to make it seem like he was trying to slice the sky into pieces. Harry continued to duck and weave, continually changing positions and dancing backward, staying on his toes to avoid causing his legs to buckle beneath his own weight.
Another vicious slash rent the air before Harry, only inches from his face, but this time, the ostentatious attack was slightly too wide and managed to throw Wolf off balance just a bit, but it was enough for Harry to strike.
Relying on instinct, Harry leaped forward, seizing the hand holding the knife and twisting sharply before smashing the flat of his hand against Wolf's elbow, satisfied at the crunching pop he heard. A raspy scream of pain erupted from Wolf's mouth as he dropped the knife, falling to his knees as he clutched at his now-useless arm with his one working hand. Harry wasn't sure if he had broken the arm or simply dislocated the elbow, but he knew either way, it had to be hurting like a bitch.
Harry stepped back, reaching down to pick up the knife. "You want to try that again, you piece of shit?" he asked in a low voice, holding the handle tightly in his fist.
Wolf's face twisted in rage, teeth bared in a silent growl. His left eye was stained pink, the skin around it dyed crimson from the blood still shining wetly on his cheek.
But before Wolf could respond, the sudden blaring of police sirens echoed in the distance, drawing closer and closer and effectively splitting the air of the brawl into silence.
"Shit, Seek, we gotta go," Ron said urgently, tugging at Harry's arm, and Harry turned to see Fred and George already sitting on one motorcycle. George was sat on the back, sagging against Fred, and Harry felt fear spike his gut at the sight. What was wrong? Was George injured? But Fred took off before Harry could get a sense of what had happened, and Ron distracted him by tugging on his arm harder. "Come on!" he said, and this time, Harry didn't hesitate to race over to his bike, sparing one last glance for Wolf before starting the engine. Wolf was standing, body tense as he cradled his injured arm to his side. Harry allowed himself a smirk of triumph as he wondered if Wolf would manage to stay on his bike riding injured and one-handed, because Harry already knew there was no way in hell Wolf would leave his bike behind in Hallows' territory.
Ignoring the throbbing in his skull, Harry twisted the throttle and sped off, allowing the road to swallow up the lingering aches of the fight. Adrenaline pumped through his veins with every beat of his heart, fueled by the speed of his bike and the growl of the engine.
In what felt like no time at all, the imposing gates of the clubhouse loomed over them, giving Harry an immediate sense of relief when they passed through them into safety. The gates clanged shut behind them, and Harry glanced over his shoulder to see one of the prospects locking the heavy doors.
"Ron!" Fred screamed, catching their attention, and Harry's head snapped around in time to watch Charlie gently pulling George's slumped body toward him, catching the man as he fell.
"We need a doctor!" Charlie shouted. "Call Hermione! Now!"
Fred leapt off the bike, helping Charlie carry George into the clubhouse, and Harry gasped when George's head flopped limply to the side. Where his ear had once been was now nothing but a mess of torn skin and an entire river of blood cascading down George's neck, clotting along the side of his head in black clumps. The blood was so dark it didn't even appear to resemble blood, looking more like slick, oiled tar leaking from George's skull. It stained everything it touched, soaking into George's clothing and creeping along the leather of his cut. His hair was matted with blood, the vibrant orange shade darkened to a deep brown like burnt rust stretched across his scalp.
"Hermione!" he heard Ron bark into his phone, eyes wide with panic. "George is hurt! We need you! The fuckers took his ear!"
Harry couldn't hear Hermione's response, but Ron hung up in the very next second, turning to Harry with a wild expression.
"They took his fucking ear," he repeated, voice hollow.
"And they'll pay," Harry vowed, feeling anger surge through him.
The Death Eaters would fucking pay.
oOo
"It's quiet today," Pansy noted, dropping down onto the sofa beside Draco. "Where is everyone?"
"Dunno," Draco shrugged, tucking the book he had been reading away. Glancing around, he noticed that Pansy was right—the clubhouse was quiet.
"I think Wire said something about a run," Tracey called across the room, drifting over to the sofa they were sat at. She held a small plastic cup of yogurt, taking a bite and dragging her pierced tongue along the underside of the spoon in an obscene gesture, locking eyes with Pansy before flopping down next to her, so close their thighs were pressed together. She scooped up another spoonful of yogurt before offering it to Pansy with a sultry half-smile. "Want a bite?" she asked in a low voice, and Draco could swear he heard Pansy's breath catch.
Keeping her eyes locked with Tracey's, Pansy leaned forward, closing her full lips around the spoon before pulling back with a soft, breathy sound, licking her lips to catch any remaining traces.
"How come you're not feeding me?" Draco frowned jokingly, wondering if he was the only one who picked up on the sexual tension sparking between the two women and lighting up the entire sodding room anytime they were near one another.
"Get better tits and I will," Tracey said immediately, smirking when Pansy's cheeks turned pink.
Draco rolled his eyes. "Yeah? Is that why you're with Wire? Because of his nice tits?"
Both women fell silent and Draco regretted the question.
"Sometimes I really don't know why," Tracey finally admitted in a soft voice, glancing around to make sure nobody was within earshot.
"Why are you with Wolf?" Pansy asked him, keeping her voice just as low.
The question made Draco shift uncomfortably. The three of them all knew that none of them were particularly happy with their situations, and yet this was the first time that any of them had voiced such a thing aloud.
Draco said nothing for entire minutes. "Because he wanted me," he finally confessed in a whisper. "And now he owns me. What he wants, he gets."
"Saying no was never really an option for us, was it?" Pansy sighed, the words weighted with sadness. "If only I had known what the property patch really meant before I accepted it."
"Are things really so bad with Morgue?" Draco asked, dropping his voice even further as he leaned closer to the two women. Tracey's eyes flashed to Pansy's face, studying her with open concern.
Pansy laughed hollowly. "I could ask you the same of Wolf, and I'm sure I'd get a similar answer."
Draco turned away, not wanting to talk about Fenrir. He was still so painfully confused over his feelings toward the man and did not want to spend even more time thinking about it than he already did.
"What about Wire?" he asked instead, desperate to get the topic away from Wolf. "How are things with him, Trace? Really?"
"Really?" she frowned. "I can't imagine them being any different from the two of you. I mean…it's not always horrible, you know? Graham makes me laugh, keeps a roof over my head, keeps me fed…but…" she paused for several moments. "Sometimes…he just…I dunno if I can explain…you two know that I used to live in the streets, yeah?" They both nodded. "And it sucked. Everything about it sucked. And I sure as hell don't miss sleeping in the gutter and rooting through bins for any spare food and trying to smell smack on the street corner to make a quick buck, but…" she sucked a breath in and held it for long seconds, "at least there was…I dunno, freedom in it, even if the situation was horrible. But to go so suddenly from something like that, having nothing but answering to no one, to suddenly having everything I didn't have before but having to answer to someone like Wire…"
"We know, darling," Pansy whispered, squeezing Tracey's thigh. "Draco and I know exactly what it means to wear a property vest."
"Sometimes I wonder," Tracey said, staring into the distance with a blank expression. "Sometimes I wonder when I stopped being myself and became nothing but Graham Montague's property. Sometimes…it's like the only thing I am anymore is what he allows me to be, you know?"
Draco inhaled sharply, feeling the tips of his fingers tingle at the softly-spoken words. "I know," he breathed. "I lost myself so long ago, and I have no idea how to get those missing pieces back."
A warm hand slipped into his own, and he glanced down, surprised to see Pansy's fingers entwined with his own pale digits.
"I know, darling," she whispered, an ache in her voice. "All three of us know."
"He's the first person I've ever been with that I wish was unfaithful," Tracey admitted, and Draco wondered just when the conversation had turned so somber and serious. It seemed he wasn't the only one with such heavy thoughts weighing him down. "He's never talked about sleeping around and I've never actually caught him at it, but I can't help but pray that he's working his way through every hangaround he sees and that one day, he'll completely lose interest in me."
A soft sound escaped Pansy as she wrapped her free arm around Tracey's shoulder, pulling the other girl into her side.
"They don't tell us where they're going," Tracey continued, mumbling her words into the skin of Pansy's throat, "or what they're doing, or if they'll even be home for the night. We don't get to ask questions, we don't get to know anything, and we sure as hell don't get a say in a damned thing that happens in our own lives."
Pansy released Draco's hand to wrap her other arm around Tracey, embracing her tightly.
"Fenrir scares me," Draco confessed, twisting his fingers together in his lap. It was the very first time he had ever voiced such a thing aloud in those words, and he felt lightheaded from the fear of such an admission existing outside of his thoughts.
"What does he do, Draco?" Pansy whispered, taking his hand back into her own.
"Does he hurt you?" Tracey asked, reaching past Pansy to offer his arm a gentle squeeze.
"Not—not exactly," Draco faltered, wondering how to explain the reasons for his fear. "But I know he could if he wanted. And sometimes, it's like he's holding himself back from it, you know? He'll pressure me into doing things I don't want. And he doesn't necessarily hurt me, he's never raised a fist to me, at least, but I know that he likes seeing me scared." Draco shuddered, remembering the heated look in Fenrir's eyes when he had held Draco down, threatening to force himself on the blond; he remembered the scorching feel of Fenrir's tongue licking up the terrified tears streaking Draco's face.
Pansy laid her head on his shoulder, curling into him. "There are a thousand different ways to hurt a lover that don't involve fists."
Oh, Draco knew. He turned toward her, wrapping her in a loose embrace. Tracey shifted closer, hugging the both of them tightly, and Draco squeezed her bicep with the hand he had been using to hug Pansy, wondering how much longer the three of them could stay in that damned clubhouse before shattering. None of them were whole, and it was only so much longer until they each broke completely. The gaping holes and missing pieces were growing bigger every day, the glass they were made from chipping more and more with every second ticking past. They were hopelessly splintered, fractured beyond repair, and Draco didn't think there was enough glue in the world to ever be able to piece them back together. They weren't even part of the club, and yet it had broken each one of them so fully, so fundamentally, down to the very cores of who they were.
Sometimes, Draco didn't even know who he was anymore.
The sound of heavy footsteps clomping down the stairs interrupted their rare bubble of privacy. One of the prospects rounded the corner, frowning at the three of them huddled on the sofa. His blue eyes flashed at the sight of them cuddled up to one another.
"Where the hell is everyone?" he demanded, glancing around. Tracey immediately bristled at his tone.
"Club business," she responded coldly. "If they wanted you to know where they were going, they would have told you. Sorry you're not important enough to tag along."
Zacharias's expression darkened. "You want to try that answer one more time, bitch?"
The word made Pansy clench her fists. "You want to try your answer one more time, bitch? Call her that again, I fucking dare you."
A cruel smile spread across Zach's face at the challenge. "Watch your mouth, little girl, I don't take orders from pussy. You're nothing special just 'cause you're the hole Morgue sticks his dick in."
Before Draco could try to catch her arm, Tracey had leapt from the couch and flew towards Zacharias. A resounding slap echoed through the room, and Draco saw Zach's eyes widen as his head snapped to the side, a red hand-shaped mark on his face left behind from Tracey's palm striking his cheek.
"Fucking bitch!" he spat, shoving her to the ground and taking a threatening step forward.
But before he could reach her, Draco was standing between them, face red with fury. How fucking dare he!
"Out of my way," Zach said in a low voice. "She disrespected a brother, and now she has to pay for it."
"Read your vest, prospect," Draco growled, surprising himself by pushing Zacharias back. "You're not a member, and Wire sure as hell won't treat you like a brother when he finds out about this. Do you have any idea what happens to someone who lays hands on a member's property?" While a property vest may not guarantee protection from the one whose name was on it, it most definitely guaranteed protection from the other club members. And while Wire could certainly be a crass brute, Draco knew he would not stand for another man laying hands on Tracey, no matter the context.
Behind him, he could hear the sounds of Pansy helping Tracey to her feet and asking quietly if she was okay.
"I'm fine," Tracey said, stepping up beside Draco and grinning at Zach. "This little bitch is too weak to ever hurt anyone."
Zach's face turned thunderous as he took a threatening step forward, but Draco stepped in front of Tracey once more with a glare. He may not be able to protect himself from the club, but he was damned if he was letting a single person lay hands on either Tracey or Pansy in front of him.
"Go ahead and hit him," Pansy taunted as Zach raised a fist. "See what Wolf does to you if you touch him. You know how Wolf is about the things he owns, don't you? I dare you to leave a single bruise on him, prospect."
Zach froze, glaring daggers at all three of them before storming away with a curse. They watched him stomp back upstairs muttering vague threats into the air.
"Fucking cunt," Tracey said loudly, and Draco knew that Zach heard her by the tightening of his shoulders.
"Are you okay, Trace?" Draco asked, glancing her up and down for even a hint of a bruise.
"I'm fine," she said casually, waving one hand. "It's like I said, that little bitch couldn't hurt me if he tried."
"I can't believe he actually touched you," Pansy said in an angry voice. "I can't wait for the boys to get back so I can tell them."
Tracey grinned. "I think he forgot who he was fucking with, to be honest. I mean, he does know why Flint is called Morgue, doesn't he? Does he really want to risk being buried alive just for the sake of his pride?"
Pansy chuckled. "What about why Montague is called Wire? I really don't think Zach even thought about what body part Montague might cut off with that damned piano wire he always carries around."
"I know what part he should cut off," Draco muttered. He still couldn't believe that anyone in the club, especially a bloody prospect, would ever be stupid enough to openly threaten the three of them.
"I can't believe he really almost hit you," Pansy shook her head. "Has he ever even met Wolf? Didn't he once break a man's wrist for groping you at a party?"
At the question, Draco felt his lips twist in a faint smile. That was one act of violence that Draco wasn't sorry had happened. That man had been drunk, crude, pushy, and refused to listen to any of Draco's many warnings to back off. He had followed Draco down the hall when Draco had left to find a loo, pinned him up against a wall, and shoved one hand down the front of Draco's pants.
The next thing Draco knew, Fenrir had ripped the man off him with a snarl and thrown him to the floor, smiling nastily before stomping down on the hand that had just been groping at Draco. Draco would never forget the sharp sound of bones crunching beneath Fen's heel or the piercing scream that tore from the man's mouth.
"Touch what I own again," Fen said dangerously, leaning over the man in a way threatening enough to make even Draco shiver, "and I'll tear that fucking arm right off your body."
The man had nodded frantically, cradling his injured hand against his chest.
"Come on, Draco," Fenrir had growled, tucking Draco under his arm and leading him away from the man sobbing on the floor. He had kept Draco with him for the rest of the night, glaring at anyone who even glanced in Draco's direction, and Draco had never been more grateful for Fenrir's presence and over-watchfulness.
"Fen broke his whole hand," Draco corrected Pansy. The unknown man had never shown his face at another party after that night. Draco couldn't help but wonder what Wolf would do to someone who raised a violent hand to Draco. To be honest, he didn't really think he wanted to know.
"This is why I hate prospects," Tracey said with a disgusted shake of her head. "They're not even part of the club and they think they're fucking untouchable. Zach has been here for what, three months? And he thinks he's owed the same respect as a patch?"
"Thinks he's so much fucking better than us just because he has a vest and a dick," Pansy sneered, "no matter how tiny it is."
"He really needs to learn the difference between property and hangarounds," Tracey added.
"Benefits of a property vest," Draco said hollowly, staring in the direction Zacharias had stomped off in. The three of them stood in silence, listening to the old building creak around them. The floor beneath Draco's boots was filthy, covered in dirt and grime; the walls were dark and stained, and the sofas were worn and faded, sagging in the center with a strange forlorn, hopeless sort of slump. The room was bleak and depressing to look at, but it was always possible that Draco was simply projecting his own emotions onto the furniture.
The sound of revving engines suddenly shattered the maudlin peace of the moment, snapping them back into reality. They all flinched as one at the sound of the metal gate being thrown open, and the revving got louder as they heard bikes pour into the yard.
Moments later, the door to the clubhouse was flung wide, slamming into the wall behind it as the bikers streamed inside. Many of them were sporting bruised cheekbones and bloodied noses, and Draco wondered where they had gone. Had they lost or won whatever fight they had all clearly been in?
At the sight of Wolf slipping through the door, right arm held carefully and face covered in blood and sweat, Draco felt his heart freeze in his chest.
"Fen," he choked out, stepping closer. Oh god, what had happened? "Shit, Fen, are you okay?" He helped guide the man toward the bar, easing him gently onto a nearby stool.
"Fine," Greyback grunted. "Nothing a drink won't fix."
Draco nodded, hurrying behind the bar to fetch a bottle of Fen's favorite whisky. He poured it into a glass for him with trembling fingers, sliding it over the sticky surface of the wooden bar. "I'll call the doctor," he said in a low voice, but Fenrir stopped him with a wave of his uninjured arm.
"It's fine, Draco, someone will have already done it by now." He threw back the whisky with a hiss, baring his teeth, and Draco could see bloodied gums.
"Who did this?" he asked quietly, leaning forward.
"Hallow bastards," Fen said, grunting in pain and holding his ribs.
The answer made Draco's stomach drop painfully. The Hallows? They had gotten into a fight with the Hallows? Which ones? Had Seek been there? Oh god, was he okay? Draco felt his fingers itch as he longed to pull out his phone and call the man, just to make sure that he was all right.
"Which one of them was it?" Draco whispered, feeling desperation claw its way up his throat. Oh god, Seek couldn't be hurt. Draco didn't know what he would do if Seek had been injured.
Fen grunted again, gesturing for Draco to refill the empty glass. "Some black-haired little bitch, don't know his name. Cunt thought he was some kinda fucking ninja or some shit."
"Black hair…" Draco breathed, frozen to the spot. Seek had black hair. Was it Seek that Fenrir had fought? His fingers were shaking so badly he nearly missed the glass and spilled whisky everywhere, but he took a deep breath and managed to fill it with the sharp amber liquid.
Fenrir didn't hesitate to throw it back, coughing as he clutched at his ribs once more. "Found out which of them took my truck though," he growled, slamming the glass down on the counter so hard Draco was worried it might shatter. "And that little black-haired cunt is gonna fucking pay."
The words made all the blood drain from Draco's face. Fenrir knew. He knew that it was Seek who had stolen the truck. It was Seek that he had fought. It was Seek who had injured him. But what had Fenrir done to Seek? Oh god, Draco needed to know. He needed to know right now.
"Wolf," Knot called across the room, and they both turned to him. "Time for church, Riddle wants to talk. And the doc should be here in a minute."
Fenrir nodded, taking a final swig straight from the bottle before climbing to his feet and walking away without a single glance toward Draco. The room was quickly emptied of bikers, leaving Draco, Pansy, Tracey, and two prospects who had wandered in from outside.
"I'll be back," Draco choked out, stumbling to the door. He didn't wait for a response, hurrying from the clubhouse and tripping his way across the yard toward the back. He yanked the heavy garage door open just wide enough for him to squeeze inside before slamming it shut again, thankful for the thick silence that promised privacy. There was just enough light streaming in through the grimy windows to see his surroundings. He jumped into the backseat of his car, locking the door behind him before pulling his phone from his pocket with fingers that trembled so badly they barely worked. They were shaking so much that it took three tries to successfully pull up Seek's number, and Draco took a deep breath before hitting the call button, his heart pounding in his throat as he listened to it ring. Please, Seek, pick up. Please be all right.
"Hello?" a deep voice finally answered, and Draco couldn't help the little sob that escaped him at the sound. Seek was alive, at least, and well enough to answer his phone. "Draco?"
"Seek," Draco whispered, clutching the phone desperately to his ear. "I—I heard what happened." Sort of. "I mean, I heard that something happened. With your club. Are—are you—please tell me that you're all right!" he blurted, curling up on his side along the backseat.
A chuckle met his ear. "You worried about me?" The voice was warm, slightly amused, and the sound of it made Draco want to cry. Was Seek mocking his concern?
The thought made Draco swallow back a sob.
"Hey," Seek said suddenly, sounding worried, "it's fine, Draco. I'm fine, I promise. Don't be upset."
But asking Draco not to be upset at that point was simply not realistic. "Wolf said he fought someone with black hair…he said he found out who stole his truck…"
Another chuckle crackled through the phone, even though Draco could find nothing amusing about the situation. "Yeah," Seek said, "fucker came at me with a knife."
An iron fist squeezed around Draco's heart, stopping it cold in his chest. "A knife?" he breathed. "He attacked you with a knife?"
Seek laughed again. "Tried to, at least. He's not nearly as scary as he likes to think he is, you know. I even got to keep the knife as a souvenir."
Draco placed a fist against his mouth, trying not to make a sound. Why was Seek playing it off like it was no big deal? Draco knew what Fenrir did to the men who made him angry, and it had been quite a while since Draco had seen Greyback so furious as when he had discovered his truck was missing. Greyback would kill Seek; he would tear him into pieces with his bare hands, and Seek was laughing about it? He was laughing about a knife attack?
"Draco," Seek said soothingly, having obviously heard Draco's pathetic attempts at reining his upset in, "it's fine, really. Don't worry. I'm fine. He got one hit on me, that's it. Well," he chuckled again, and Draco wanted to smash something, "maybe one and a half. But it barely even bruised. I promise you that I'm okay."
Draco nodded, knowing that Seek wouldn't be able to see him but unable to respond in actual words.
"I'm glad you called," Seek confessed, sounding serious. "I love that you worry for me, Draco. I really miss you, you know."
"You do?" Draco breathed, startled by the words. Did Seek really miss him? Did he think about Draco just as often as Draco thought about him?
"Of course I do. I like you, Draco. I really like you. And I want to see you again."
"I want to see you again too," Draco admitted in the barest whisper. But no, that wasn't right. Draco needed to see him again. He needed to know with his own two eyes that Seek really was okay. He needed to touch Seek again and assure himself that the man was alive and whole and not just some dream that Draco's desperate mind had created.
"When?" Seek said immediately. "When can I see you? I'll come get you if you want."
"You're insane," Draco said with a shake of his head. "You can't come here, half the club is here. And I don't know what you did to Wolf's arm, but he'll kill you if he sees you again."
Seek laughed carelessly. "Yeah, the arm. I'm curious if it's broken or just dislocated. Either way, it was the fucker's own fault. He's the one who pulled a knife on me, and I had to get it away from him somehow."
"I'm just glad you're okay," Draco whispered. He didn't know what he would have done if Fenrir had stabbed Seek or injured him in any way.
"When can I see you?" Seek pressed, voice sounding louder, and Draco wondered if he was holding the phone closer to his mouth.
"I don't know." Draco wanted to see Seek so badly, but how could he? What could he say that would excuse his absence? "I'd need to think of some sort of excuse to get away for a bit."
"Don't," Seek said softly. "You don't need an excuse. Just pack your things, Draco, and I'll come get you. You can be out of there forever by tonight. You don't have to say a single word about it to anyone there."
Draco's heart thudded in his chest. Could he really do such a thing? Could he really just leave? Without a word? Just vanish into the night with no trace of where he had gone? His head spun as he thought it over. Was Seek really serious about him? What if Draco did pack his things and left, only for Seek to grow bored of him in two weeks? What if he decided that Draco wasn't who he thought he was and no longer wanted anything to do with him? Draco would be left with nothing. He would have nowhere to go. And what about Pansy and Tracey? Draco couldn't just leave them behind, not when he knew how unhappy they were with their situations as well. He couldn't just abandon them. The three of them looked out for one another, and Draco couldn't leave them. He wasn't ready to leave. He wasn't brave enough to throw all caution to the wind and disappear into the sunset without a single backward glance.
"Draco?"
"I'll come see you," he finally said, sitting up. He may not be ready to leave the only home he had just yet, but he knew with certainty that he needed to see Seek. "I'll need time to think of an excuse, but Fen is injured anyway, so hopefully he'll have other things to think about."
"Fen?" Seek's voice lowered dangerously. "He was there today? Which one is he, Draco?"
Draco's voice caught in his throat. No, he couldn't tell Seek the truth. He couldn't tell him that Seek already knew exactly who Fenrir was—not only knew him but had fought him that very day as well.
"It doesn't matter," he mumbled, clenching his eyes shut tight. "Really, Seek. It's not important."
"Why do you keep saying that?" Great. Now Seek sounded upset. "It's important to me, Draco!"
Draco sighed. "I'll let you know when I'm on my way over to you, okay?"
Seek was silent for several moments. "All right," he finally said. "I'll be waiting for you."
"I'll see you later then," Draco whispered. "Goodbye, Seek."
A final goodbye was heard before the line went dead, and Draco slumped back in his seat, pressing his fist to his forehead in a useless attempt at making all the painful thoughts whirling through his head just stop. He just wanted it all to stop. The violence, the fear, the confusion, the treacherous quickening of his heart every time he thought of Seek's smile.
His legs felt oddly numb as he climbed from the car and made his way from the garage, crossing the darkening yard. The sun was just starting to set, bathing everything the light touched in purple and gold. The lavender clouds hung low in the sky, edged with flaming orange as the sun slowly sank back into the earth. The black shadows in the yard were twisted and stretched, making eerie shapes across the dry grass, and Draco couldn't escape the fear that one of them was going to reach out and snatch at his ankle at any second.
He hurried past the ghostly shadows on legs made of rubber, throwing the door open and slamming it shut behind him with a much louder bang than he had been expecting. The sound made him jump and he glanced up, gaze locking on Pansy and Tracey, who were sat together on a sofa, staring at Draco with questions brimming in their eyes.
Cheeks flushing, Draco swiftly crossed the room and hurried up the short flight of stairs to his room. Once inside, he paused, forcing himself to take several deep breaths in an attempt to calm down. Now was not the time to panic—he needed to think. What could he say to Fenrir to explain his absence? And what was a good enough excuse to keep him away for at least a few days? Draco did not want only one night in Seek's arms—he wanted as many as he could feasibly excuse.
But what on earth would he say to Fen?
A quiet knock on his door startled him and he nearly fell as he whirled around, one hand flying to his mouth to keep the yelp that tried to escape locked up tight.
"Draco?" a soft voice called, and the door opened to reveal Pansy and Tracey staring at him in concern. They entered the room and locked the door behind them, staring at him in silence for long moments.
"Draco," Pansy finally spoke, stepping closer. "What's the matter? What's going on? Where did you disappear to and why did you look so panicked when you came back inside?"
Draco shook his head frantically, wondering if he had always been so easy to read or if his emotions had simply become too strong to be easily contained. "Nothing," he choked out. "Nothing's the matter. I just—needed a moment to myself."
"Draco," Tracey said firmly, stepping up behind Pansy. "Talk to us. What's wrong? Because something clearly is. You look as though you've seen a fucking ghost."
"I just…" Draco paused, unsure what he should say. "I just…need a break. For a few days. I need to leave, just for a bit."
"Leave?" Pansy's eyes widened. "What do you mean leave? Leave where? Why?"
"Draco," Tracey said in a hushed voice, glancing around to make sure they were alone, "you're meeting up with someone, aren't you?"
His silence was answer enough.
"Oh my god," Pansy hissed, looking furious. "Jesus Christ, Draco, are you out of your fucking mind?! You're leaving to meet up with another bloke?!"
Draco shrunk in on himself, staring down at his feet. "I never said that," he mumbled.
"You didn't have to! Are you trying to get yourself killed?! Do you have any idea what Wolf will do to you when he finds out?!"
"Not to mention what he'll do to that bloke you're seeing," Tracey added, sounding worried. "Draco…"
"Yes, of course!" Draco snapped, eyes flicking to the door to make sure it was locked. "Of course I fucking know what he'll do to me! You think I don't know him or something? And the man I'm meeting up with knows too! We're both very aware of the risks, thank you!"
"Draco," Tracey said in a placating voice, holding up both hands palm out, "we're just worried about you. Don't do this. I don't even want to know what Wolf will do to him when he finds out. And he'll make you watch the whole thing."
"If he finds out," Draco corrected flatly, sinking down onto the worn mattress. They were right. They were both so right. What was Draco doing? The risk was far too great for a gamble of this magnitude. Draco should call it off. He should text Seek and tell him he changed his mind and not to wait up for him.
But when Draco thought about Seek's face falling in disappointment, his eyes growing sad and dull, when he thought of Seek moving on and forgetting Draco's name, it made something twist painfully in his chest. And the thought of never seeing Seek again, even if only for one last time, was too much to bear.
"When," Tracey corrected right back. "When he finds out. Because he will. You can't keep something like this secret forever. Why even take such a risk, Draco? You're only endangering yourself!"
"Why?" Draco laughed hollowly. "You two of all people are asking why I take such risks meeting up with someone who actually respects me? Who actually speaks kindly to me?" An itching was beginning to build in his throat, one he tried to ignore. "You two know Wolf as well as I do. And you're asking why I might possibly want someone else?"
The girls exchanged a weighted glance.
"You're right," Pansy whispered, sitting next to him on the bed. "We get it. We absolutely get it, Draco. I dream about leaving Marcus too sometimes. But…" her eyes glistened with tears, surprising Draco, "but he will kill you, Draco. He won't let you go. You know that. I don't want to see you hurt, love. I couldn't take it if something bad happened to you."
"So, what?" Draco whispered back. "I should just be unhappy forever? I should just shut my mouth and take shit from him for the rest of my life just to stay alive? I don't want that, Pansy."
"Who is he, Draco?" Tracey wondered, placing her hands on their shoulders in turn and squeezing in comfort. "Who is he that's so worth the risk?"
"He's…" Draco hesitated. He did not want to tell them that Seek was a member of the Hallows; they were upset enough already without adding that bombshell to the top of it. "He's not perfect. But he's kind. And he listens to me. He worries about me. He—" a faint smile stretched Draco's mouth as he thought of Seek, "he makes me laugh. For the first time in what feels like years, I actually have a reason to smile. He tells me things about himself in a way that Fenrir never has. He's patient, and he respects my boundaries. He's not forceful or demanding, and he's never given me reason to fear him. He's nothing like Fenrir, and the time I spend with him is the only time I don't feel trapped."
"Tell me he's at least fit," Tracey joked sadly, biting her lip.
"The fittest," Draco responded honestly. "He's bloody gorgeous."
"So what's your excuse then?" Pansy wondered, reaching out to grasp Draco's hand in her own. "For getting out of here?"
He sighed. "I don't know. But I need a good one."
"What about a family crisis?" Tracey suggested. "Wolf couldn't really argue with that, could he?"
"But I have no family left," Draco pointed out. "I mean, I have an aunt somewhere and a cousin, but I don't know where or even who they are."
Pansy hummed thoughtfully. "Well, what about a legal crisis?"
Draco stared at her. "What does that mean? You want me to pretend I've been arrested?"
"No," she snorted. "But what if you say you had a call from your family's solicitor, who needs to go over some legal bollocks with you about your family holdings or your father's will or something along those lines? You could even say that your aunt was in a terrible accident and they need to speak with the next of kin?"
"Yes," Tracey said immediately. "The first one. Make it sound like the possibility of money is involved somehow. There's no way in hell Wolf would ever turn down the possibility of you getting your hands on some of your family's lost fortune."
"Yes," Draco said slowly, mind whirling, "that could work. He does complain sometimes about the cost of my upkeep," he finished bitterly. The way Fenrir complained about paying for the cost of Draco's keep made him feel like some sort of inconvenient pet.
"Please, Draco," Pansy said in a soft voice, "please tell us that you know what you're doing."
Draco gazed at her, unsure how to respond. If he were being honest with himself, he had no idea what he was doing. He had no idea if he was making the worst mistake of his life; he had no idea if the whole thing wouldn't cost him his life. But he knew that he had to try. "I don't," he admitted, speaking down to the dirty floor, "but I know that I need to see him. There's something between us, he and I, from the very moment we first met. And I don't think I would ever be able to forget him, or ever forgive myself if I didn't allow myself even the chance to explore whatever connection we share, no matter how brief that connection may last. Even if it ends up horribly, even if Fen finds out," he took a deep breath, "at least I won't have died as miserable as I am every day I'm trapped in this house." Even if it cost Draco his life, he was determined to grasp as much happiness as he could before it ended. If Seek wasn't afraid of the consequences, then Draco wouldn't be either.
Pansy sighed, enfolding him in a warm embrace. "Are you sure you even want to come back? They're still in church, Draco. You don't even have to say a word, you know. You could leave now and no one will be any the wiser about where you vanished to."
Draco stared at her in surprise. Was she really telling him to leave? But he wasn't ready! He wasn't ready to make such a decision! He wasn't sure if he ever would be.
"I'll be back," he said uncertainly. He wasn't certain of anything anymore.
"At least be sure to get a good shag out of it," Tracey grinned, playing with Pansy's dark hair.
Draco chuckled. "I definitely will." God, just the thought of Seek's hands on him made Draco's heart beat faster and his fingers tremble with excitement.
"Good." Tracey let go of Pansy to wander over to sit next to Draco, enfolding him in a hug. Pansy embraced him from behind and he closed his eyes, relishing the comforting touch. They sat that way for entire minutes, offering comfort to one another and soaking up the strength given through an innocent, undemanding hug. Draco often forgot the simple power of a kind touch.
A sudden rattling of the doorknob startled the three of them, making them jump.
"Draco!" Fenrir called loudly, pounding on the locked door. "Why the hell is your door locked? Open it!"
"Right," Draco croaked, jumping up and hurrying to unlock it. "Sorry, Fen."
Fenrir huffed and stormed inside, stopping short at the sight of Pansy and Tracey sitting on the bed. "Well," he said slowly, raising one bandaged eyebrow, and Draco noticed that he had been patched up by the doctor. "This is a strange three-way."
Tracey rolled her eyes. "As if Draco wants our girly bits in any three-way he's involved in."
Fen smirked. "True. Draco likes to have something a bit harder to grab onto, don't you, baby?"
Draco flushed, unsure how to respond. He had never really been able to get used to hearing Fen say such things about him to other people.
"How's your arm?" Pansy asked, glancing at the sling Fen's right arm was cased in.
Fenrir shrugged with his uninjured shoulder, but Draco could see murder flash through his eyes. "Fine. Fucker only managed to dislocate it, so it's not too bad. I already reset it before we got back, so the doc didn't have too much to do with it. Should be all healed up in no time."
"Was anyone seriously injured?"
Fenrir chuckled unexpectedly. "One of their guys. Poison took the stupid fucker's ear. Whole thing, clean off."
The statement, spoken so casually, so indifferently, had Draco shuddering. The only thing keeping him calm was that he knew for a fact it wasn't Seek who had been mutilated.
"Gross," Tracey said, sounding far too uncaring for Draco's comfort. But then again, she didn't know that he was involved with a member of the gang they were so casually discussing.
Fen chuckled again, and Draco wondered how much of the whisky bottle from the bar the man had gotten through before coming up to the room.
"Yeah," Fen said with a smirk, half his face covered in bruises, "the boys and I have been wondering if his balance will be fucked up because of it. Like when Avery got his two smallest toes on his left foot shot off in that drug deal that turned sour, and his balance was all fucked up afterwards."
Tracey snorted. "And then it ended up not even mattering when he shot up a few months later and fell asleep funny on his leg. Dumb fuck passed out for, what was it, thirty hours or something?"
"Oh, right," Pansy sniggered. "Lost all circulation in that leg and ended up having to get it amputated."
Fenrir shook his head in amusement. "Poor fuck can't even ride his bike anymore, and with the money he still spends on dope, he'll never be able to afford a prosthetic."
Draco stared at him, wondering if Fenrir spoke about everyone's misfortunes in such a light manner. Avery had never been Draco's favorite club member, but he still didn't think it was right for his own friend to laugh about him behind his back.
"So what are you girls doing up here then?" Fen wondered, sinking onto the mattress with a pained grimace before gesturing for Draco to sit next to him. Draco sat down gingerly, wary of shaking the mattress and injuring Fenrir further.
"We were just speaking to Draco," Tracey said, adopting a serious tone. "Making sure he's okay. He got a call a little while ago and seemed a bit upset, so we just wanted to check up on him."
Fenrir frowned. "Draco?"
"Oh, er, right," Draco said, feeling his palms sweat. "Erm, I got a call from my family's solicitor, actually. He needs me to come meet with him to discuss some of the legalities of my father's holdings. It was a lot of legal jargon, to be honest, I'm not quite sure what it's all about."
Fenrir's frown deepened. "And you need to go all the way out to meet him? Why? Why can't you just do it all over the phone?"
Draco shrugged. "He said it's all too involved and extensive. He only gave the basic gist of it. I think it has to do with my father's will."
"Hmm," Fen said thoughtfully, tracing the fingers of his uninjured hand up and down Draco's back. "Your father's will, huh? I s'pose that sounds pretty serious."
"I don't think it will take too long," Draco said in relief. "I mean, I don't really know how in-depth he's going to get with it all"—he tried to ignore Tracey's smirk she sent him over Fen's shoulder—"but hopefully it won't be too drawn out."
Fen hummed again before one corner of his mouth pulled up in a grin. "Well, try not to die of boredom if it lasts longer than you think. And try to come home with at least a bit of that bastard's money."
"Right," Draco nodded, insides squirming. He couldn't believe it—he had gotten away with it. He had even gotten permission to leave. Of course, the possibility of money was most likely to blame for Fenrir's easy acceptance. Draco often wondered if Fenrir had pursued him so strongly in the beginning because he thought Draco had inherited the family money his father had lost.
"Try not to miss us too much while you're gone," Tracey grinned, an air of triumph in her words.
"Do you need help packing, Draco?" Pansy asked quietly, the only somber one amongst them.
"When are you leaving?" Fenrir asked with a frown.
"Oh, I thought I'd leave tonight," Draco said as casually as he was able. "That way I'll be there by morning."
Fenrir rolled his eyes. "Please, Draco. Wiltshire is what, three hours away by car? You can just leave in the morning. The solicitor's working for you, not the other way around. It's your fucking schedule that matters, not his."
"But…" Draco faltered, unsure how to argue his way free. He didn't want to wait until morning—he wanted to leave that night; that second. He wanted to see Seek as quickly as possible.
"You can leave in the morning, Draco," Fenrir said in a low voice, closing one hand around Draco's upper arm and squeezing in warning. "Besides," he said with a sharp smile, "I'm injured. I need you to take care of me tonight if you're going to be gone dealing with legal shit for the next day or two."
Or five, Draco thought spitefully in his head. He wondered just how long he could feasibly stay away before Fenrir would start to grow angry and suspicious.
"All right," he relented, slumping in his seat. He supposed he could wait a few more hours to see Seek if he really had to.
"Good boy," Fenrir grinned, lowering his hand to Draco's thigh.
"Do you need any gas money?" Pansy asked, sounding concerned. "It's a long drive out there and I know you don't usually carry money on you."
"It's fine," Fenrir said, waving her concern away. "I have money."
"Are you sure?" Tracey cut in. "Because I have some too, it's no problem—"
"I said it's fine," Fenrir interrupted, narrowing his eyes. "I'll take of him, don't worry."
"Thank you, Fen," Draco said softly, pressing a kiss to an uninjured section of Fenrir's cheek.
Fenrir hummed in response, catching Draco's mouth in a rough kiss. "Time for you girls to go," he rasped, not moving his razor gaze from Draco.
"Have a safe trip, darling," Pansy murmured, pressing a kiss to Draco's cheek.
"We'll see you later, love," Tracey added, pressing her own kiss to the same spot Pansy's lips had touched.
"Bye," Draco said quietly, watching as they exited the room and shut the door behind them.
Fenrir groaned, stretching out his upper body before shuffling back and swinging his legs up to lie down.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Draco asked, studying the injuries. The worst of them seemed to be his elbow, but there were bruises and a bandaged cut on his face, and Draco noticed that he had been holding his ribs and torso rather carefully. What had Seek done to him? Draco didn't even know that Seek could fight, and to stand his ground against Wolf was damned impressive.
"I'm fine," Fen said, waving his concern away. "Doc patched me up and gave me a whole pile of painkillers. All I need is a drink and your mouth on me and I'll be right as fucking rain."
"Right," Draco mumbled, feeling his insides crumble a bit. Now that he was planning to see Seek, the thought of touching Fenrir in such a way was beginning to turn his stomach. But all he needed was to get through that night, and then he would be out of the clubhouse and into Seek's arms. Draco could survive one night with Fenrir; it would be fine. He would be fine. "I'll, erm, just go get you a drink then." Draco didn't think Fen should be drinking whilst medicated, but he was certainly not about to argue with the man.
"Vodka," Fen grunted, "over there. Second shelf."
Draco's gaze drifted in the direction Fenrir pointed, spying a half-empty bottle of vodka on the second shelf of a battered bookcase. He frowned. When had that bottle been put there? Draco certainly didn't remember placing it there.
Still frowning, he rose to his feet, crossing the room to fetch the bottle before taking it back to Fenrir's waiting hand. Fen glanced meaningfully at the lid and Draco got the hint, twisting it open for him and watching as he took several large slugs of it.
"Drink," he ordered, holding the bottle out to Draco, who accepted it reluctantly before taking a small sip. He immediately handed it back to Greyback, who took another large swallow, a slight grimace crossing his face. Draco hoped the combination of painkillers and alcohol would put him to sleep soon and Draco could slip out without Fenrir being aware.
"Take off my boots," Fenrir said, closing his eyes as he took another swallow.
Nodding, Draco quickly complied, untying the laces before sliding the boots from the man's feet and placing them at the foot of the bed.
"Now the jeans," Greyback instructed, and Draco glared at the man, grateful Fen's eyes were closed as Draco obeyed, swiftly unbuttoning the jeans and dragging down the zipper before beginning to carefully tug the denim free. With a bit of shifting from Fenrir, Draco managed to work the jeans free. He folded them up and tossed them into the small hamper near the wall. Fen cracked one eye open, smirking at Draco as he reached out to stroke his long hair. "While you're down there," he said suggestively, and Draco couldn't help the frown that crossed his face, despite already knowing what Greyback would demand.
"Aren't you injured?" he said softly, not wanting to sound as though he was arguing or refusing.
Fenrir snorted derisively. "I'll decide when I'm too injured for a blowjob, Draco, not you. And I say it might just be a better medicine than the painkillers. It's not my cock that got dislocated, after all."
"Right," Draco said with a fake laugh, trying to keep his lip from curling as he reached out to tug Fenrir's olive-green pants down far enough to release his prick. Without any sort of preamble, Draco stroked him several times before taking him into his mouth, just wanting to get it over with as quickly as possible. He had sucked Fen off enough times to know what sorts of things pushed him to the edge, and he employed all of them, wishing that he was in his car on his way to Seek's house instead of lying next to Fenrir.
Sucking Seek off had been nothing like sucking off Fenrir. Seek had tasted clean and smelled like the ocean breeze; Fenrir stank of blood and whisky. Seek had moaned appreciatively, touched Draco lightly, allowing him to set the pace. Fenrir tangled his hand roughly in Draco's hair, forcing his head down and making him gag and choke. When he came, his hand tightened in Draco's hair, forcing Draco to swallow back a yelp of pain at the aggrieved clenching.
The moment Fenrir finally released his hair with a sated sigh, Draco rubbed his burning scalp with a scowl, deciding that the second Fenrir fell asleep, Draco was sneaking out, his orders to wait until morning be damned.
"I'm going to go wash up," he said quietly, climbing from the bed, "and put a few things together for the trip. I'll most likely be gone before you wake, I want to get there early."
"Sure, sure," Fenrir said sleepily, reaching out for the bottle of vodka he had set on the nearby desktop. "My wallet's in the back pocket of my jeans, baby. Take a few quid for gas before you leave."
"Thank you, Fen," Draco said, pressing a kiss to his mouth. He wondered if he would ever stop being confused over his feelings for Fen. One moment, he was sure he hated the man, feeling disgusted at the very thought of touching him, and the next, Fenrir was offering him gas money and trusting him not to run off with the contents of his wallet, and Draco didn't know what to think. Was there some part of him that truly did care for Draco? Or was Draco simply searching desperately for anything he could twist into a sign of affection?
"I feel better already," Fenrir said with a lazy grin. "Told you, Draco, your mouth is all the medicine I ever need. I might even get the doctor to write me an official prescription for you. Three blowjobs daily, doctor's orders."
"Just rest," Draco said, stroking his shoulder. "Focus on getting better, Fen."
"'Course," Fen snorted. "By the time you get back, I'll be all healed up, baby, and I can give you a proper fucking."
Draco hummed absently, trying not to dwell on the final statement. The moment Fen fell asleep, Draco would be out of there.
He climbed from the bed, pausing to pull a few quid from Fenrir's wallet before shoving the money and an armful of clothing into a bag. He set the bag by the door before making his way into the bathroom, shutting the door behind himself with a sigh of relief.
The first thing he did was brush his teeth, much more thoroughly than he normally tended to, wanting to wash every last trace of Wolf from his mouth. He spat the foamy toothpaste into the sink, turning the faucet on and watching as the water swept the white mess down the drain. He pulled his phone from his pocket, sending Seek a quick text. Just waiting for him to fall asleep and I'll be on my way. He drank a quarter bottle of vodka on top of a handful of painkillers, so it should be soon. I'll let you know when I'm in my car.
The phone was set down on the counter before Draco pulled his clothing off haphazardly, kicking them into the corner. His phone buzzed and he turned back with a small smile, wondering if Seek had been waiting for his text. The smile grew when he read the message.
Can't wait to see you, babe. Drive fast.
Setting the phone back down, Draco climbed into the shower, wanting to wash off every last trace of the stressful, worrisome day. He took his time washing his hair and scrubbing himself clean, hoping that when he emerged, Fenrir would be fast asleep.
By the time he pulled back the curtain and stepped from the shower, the bathroom was clouded with steaming air, the large mirror completely fogged over. He dressed quickly, slipping into a set of basic but comfortable clothing, brushing his long hair before tying it back in a single braid that reached nearly to his waist.
Cracking open the door carefully, Draco felt himself relax and sigh with relief at the familiar sounds of Fenrir's snoring. The dim light of his phone was used as a makeshift flashlight as he crossed the room as quietly as he could, settling the strap of the bag over his shoulder before easing open the door and slipping into the hallway. The moment the door was shut behind him, he released the breath he had been holding, finally feeling free.
Seek was waiting for him, and Draco couldn't wait to see the man.
More super-secret sleepovers of secrecy and love are up next! Hooray!