A/N: Thanks again to the people who have reviewed so far! It's really inspiring to know that others are enjoying your work, and really encourages me to keep writing. I am hoping the reviews keep coming so I will be able to motivate myself to keep going! I am actually going to be spending the next several days packing and moving, and then probably several after that getting myself adjusted to going back to school again, so it may be a little while before I get the next chapter up. Therefore, I present you with something to tide you over a little while until I can get more written.
Warnings: There is implication of rape in this chapter, but nothing terribly graphic, just for those who might get squick'd by that kind of thing. Also a reminder that this is un-beta'd. No one has said they might like the job yet, so I will keep posting my own work and fixing errors as I find them. In the meantime, just enjoy what we have! Have a great weekend, all!
Chapter 4 – Changing of the Guard
As if through a haze, Harry looked around the seemingly empty cavern. Darkness flooded the area like a storm of black ink, yet Harry could make out every detail of every stone, of every stalactite, of the flattened stone altar, for that is what it must have been lying in the center of the room. Then, as if awakening from distant memories, the cavern flooded with the presence of beings, personal features hidden by a ghostlike countenance.
The only solid being remained bound face down on the altar, the pale skin smooth but bruised here and there, baring the red chafe marks at ankles and wrists from being bound far too long. The head lifted and the grey eyes opened and bore into green for just a moment before closing tightly and burying themselves underneath the body.
Harry looked down at his hands, his normally dirty and shortly bitten nails long and sharp as if pointed into claws. "You must be purified," he said to the being bound below him in a voice he didn't even recognize. And with that, he began digging his nails into the expanse of pale skin, hearing the pain-filled shrieks fill the cavern as the scene began to vanish.
Harry found himself startled awake by the chime on the floo. He glanced towards the fireplace from where he had crumpled close to down on his living room sofa to see Ron's face poking through the ashes.
"Holy fuck," Harry whispered under his breath as dream-induced shivers jerked him up from his pained position and allowed him to rise to answer Ron's call.
"Harry?" the redhead called through the flames, "I need to talk to you for a minute. Can I come through?"
"Sure, Ron," Harry answered in a voice shakier than he would like. "Come on through."
A moment later and Ron had stepped through the floo, brushing the soot off of his robes before greeting his friend in a hardy handshake.
"Wow, mate, you look like shit." Harry frowned at his best friend as he began uselessly threading his fingers through his sleep-ruffled hair.
"Thanks, Ron, that's so nice coming from you." Harry practically growled. Ron just shrugged and flopped gracelessly into an arm chair.
"You know I tell nothing but the truth. That old Gryffindor honesty and all that rot." The redhead eyed his friend cautiously before continuing. "Are you sleeping at all on that old sofa? I still don't know why you gave the ferret your bed in the first place."
"Let's not start on this today, Ron," Harry said with exasperation before pressing the tips of his fingers into his eyes behind his glasses. "He's recovering, in a good deal of pain, kept shackled down both for our safety and his, and the poor guy has no family to turn to. Tell me, Ron, if it weren't for our history, would YOU have made him sleep on the couch?"
Ron just scrunched his face up in a mock-pout but eventually relented with a sigh. "I suppose not, Harry, but I still don't see why it's YOUR responsibility to take care of him now."
Harry just shrugged. "We need the information he can give us, and I have the ability to take care of him. That's all."
Harry missed the slight raise of eyebrow from his best friend as he mumbled. "So long as that's all…" Ron shook his head as if to clear his mind of unpleasant thoughts before continuing. "Anyway, I know you probably haven't been asleep but for five or six hours, if that long, but I actually did have a reason in stepping by. Kingsley wants to see you, and he's not willing to step foot in your flat so long as a fledgling vampire is still around. He sent me to take up your guard post so you could go have a word with him. He seemed pretty ticked off when I left, so if I were you I'd get showered and dressed quickly before heading towards the Ministry."
Harry sighed and began to pull himself back off of the sofa. "Any idea what it's about? I would assume it has something to do with the DarkStar case, but you never know with Kingsley."
Ron just shrugged nonchalantly. "I think it's probably a safe assumption. I haven't heard anything new since this morning, but you never know with him. He did sound furious there for a moment though, so I suppose you might wanna make it a quicker shower than usual."
Harry shrugged equally nonchalantly and cast a few cleaning and de-wrinkling charms over himself and his clothes. "Good enough?" Ron eyed him with an amused expression but said nothing. Harry caught himself in a half-smirk before he could stop himself. "And you're sure you'll be okay here with Malfoy?"
Ron raised a hand as if to stave off the barrage of questions that were bound to be heading his way. "I promise. I know how much we need his information, regardless of how I feel about him personally, so I shall refrain from being anymore of a bastard than is absolutely necessary." Ron gave a small smirk himself. "I am, after all, a GOOD auror, contrary to whatever the ferret may believe."
Harry broke into a tired grin. "That you are, Ron. Just be careful. I'll try to make it back before sundown, but depending on Kingsley's mood…" he trailed off. "You sure you'll be able to manage him if he wakes up hungry."
Ron shrugged. "You placed the wards and shackles on him yourself, Harry. I highly doubt anything he can do will get through that. Besides, maybe it'll be a good opportunity for him to practice acting vaguely human while hungry."
Harry snorted. "As if you're so good at that yourself, Ron." The redhead just blushed and waved him off impatiently.
"Would you just get out of here before Kingsley decides to send more aurors after you? I promise I'll be fine." As if to prove the point, he pulled the latest copy of Quidditch Weekly out of his messenger bag and flipping through it with a bored look.
Harry sighed. "Fine, Ron." Harry briefly paused, summoning a quill and parchment to shoot a note off to Hermione. When Ron eyed him curiously, Harry gave a brief explanation. "So Hermione knows what we're working towards with Malfoy's legs. Since you saw it appropriate to wake me up so bloody early, I figure the least I could do is get the information to her. Maybe she'll have some answers by the time I get back. I'll be home in a couple of hours." Harry quickly summoned an owl to send off the information before tossing a handful of powder into the floo and vanishing towards the Ministry.
Hermione sat primly at the table in her home office, sipping her homemade café au lait and fingering through the latest tome she had acquired through her connections at Hogwarts. Dark Creatures through the Ages had proved even less interesting than the last six books she'd gone through looking for a solution to Malfoy's dilemma, so at the end of chapter seven she took a brief glance around the office. They had only known about the pregnancy for close to a week, and Ron was already going to town moving all of their work things out of the room to make way for the new nursery. She smiled happily at that thought before plunging back into the text again.
Chapter 8 was titled "Vampiric Races and Their Abilities," and as she began to read she became increasingly excited. Jackpot, she thought happily as she pulled out a quill and parchment and began to take the notes she would need. She had scarcely put ink to paper before an owl flew into the office and shoved a leg in her direction. She took the parchment from the owl, offering it a taste of biscotti before it flew out the window again.
So Harry FINALLY got me the details of Malfoy's injury, she thought, even her inner voice holding a tone of fond exasperation. She had hardly slept at all the night before as she contemplated in what ways she could begin her latest round of research. It seemed her pregnancy couldn't have come at a better time. It kept her home from St. Mungo's, that was true, but it also gave her plenty of time to help research this case with Ron and Harry again. The Golden Trio, back together. She sighed as she read.
It was true that sense Ginny's death the Trio just hadn't spent any considerable amount of time together. Yes, Harry and Ron spent time together at work, Hermione and Ron spent…well…lots…LOTS of "couple time" together, and Hermione even managed to drag Harry out for coffee every once in a blue moon. But it seemed like an eternity had passed since the last time the three of them had any real project to work on together. It made her considerably happier than she could have been, especially considering she was still stuck dealing with Draco Malfoy. TREATING him, even.
Since having become the third member of the Golden Trio, Hermione no longer struggled with the self-esteem or self-worth issues that had flooded her in her earliest months at Hogwarts. She had become a self-sufficient brilliant young witch, and was unafraid to let people know that she had. However, Draco Malfoy had insulted her and her heritage far more times than she cared to remember. The way his lips had formed every time he said the word "mudblood" still burned in her memory on a regular basis.
Hermione amused herself with the knowledge that she WOULD see Malfoy cured, if for no other reason than to hold it over his head later. Hermione was not, by nature, a vindictive person. She wouldn't gloat over her victory, no, but SHE would know just what he owed her, and that was enough.
With that thought fueling her determination, she resumed her search through the text, knowing exactly what it is now she was looking for.
To say Kingsley was angry would be an understatement. The man looked purple, and Harry honestly momentarily feared for his life, if not his job. He shrank immediately into the Minister's office and grabbed the chair furthest away from the desk.
"Um, Minister?" Harry asked hesitantly, knowing that at the moment formality was more important than friendliness.
Kingsley seemed to notice Harry's nervousness and took a few calming breaths before continuing. "Auror Potter," he greeted plainly, reaching his hand out to shake Harry's heartily. Harry did not miss the unusual strength with which his hand was gripped, almost painful in its intensity.
"Auror Weasley said you sent for me?" Harry decided that jumping to the point would be the fastest way to get out of the Minister's office and thus his warpath.
"Yes, I did," Kingsley said, taking another calming breath before continuing. "Harry," he said, dropping the formality and lowering his head accordingly, "I'm really not sure how to say this, and I shouldn't be telling you at all except that I know you have some political clout that I do not." Harry rolled his eyes, but the Minister quickly put up a hand to stop him from responding. "Whether you like it or not, you do, Harry, and this is a problem that frankly, I'm not sure I can fix."
"There was an attack this morning, in broad daylight, in Hogsmeade." Harry simply got wide-eyed at the statement.
"But…the vamps…Well, they are allergic to sunlight, yes? So this has to be someone new?" Harry eyed the Minister with confusion.
"I suppose it COULD be, Harry, except for one thing." He stood and pointed briefly to the back of his legs. "Two of the victims had the same kind of mutilation done to the back of their calves and thighs as all the victims from DarkStar's nest that we found earlier this week." He sighed as Harry continued to stare wide-eyed in shock. "We're keeping this all as hush-hush as possible, Auror Potter, as the last thing we need is a riot and people withdrawing their students from Hogwarts out of fear. However, the Wizengamot has been informed and…well…hell, Harry….they're trying to pass an open hunting season on vampires this afternoon."
Harry continued to stare in shock for a few moments before all of Kingsley's words were able to penetrate into his brain. "W-what?" he stammered, all the liquid in his mouth suddenly turning to dust. "A…h-hunting season?" Harry's face began to take on the shade of Kingsley's. "As in…'Hello, Mr. Vampire. We know you haven't done anything illegal but we're going to kill you anyway?' THAT kind of hunting season??" Harry's voice seemed to raise exponentially the further into his tirade he continued.
Harry abruptly stood and started pacing back and forth in front of the Minister's desk. "This is complete and utter BULLSHIT!" he screamed. "Because of ONE rogue hive, we are all of a sudden going to basically commit GENOCIDE on a group of creatures who, for the most part, didn't even ASK to be turned? It's the werewolf fiasco all over again!"
Kingsley stood and gripped Harry's shoulders, slowing the younger man down before he was able to really hit his stride. "I realize this Harry. I knew you'd be upset, and I knew even that, somewhere in that head of yours, you would say that this is no different from what Voldemort was trying to do with muggleborns and half-bloods all those years ago." Harry stared into Kingsley's face, again surprised at how well the other man knew him. "I also realize that the Wizengamot is INCREDIBLY frightened at the prospect of said rogue vampires running about IN BROAD DAYLIGHT attacking innocent people. I don't know if there is a solution we can come to immediately, Harry, but I know that if anyone can figure out a solution to this it's you. In the meantime," Kingsley said, gesturing to the clock on the wall which read just past three in the afternoon, "you have three hours to prepare a case for voting down the hunting season before the Wizengamot."
Harry's face paled. "Kingsley, you KNOW I hate speaking in front of those people! I barely managed it right after the war and I haven't really gotten any better at it since then. Why can't YOU do it?"
Kingsley only smiled sadly. "Because, Harry," he said frankly, "you still have the political power needed to make people listen, whether you want it or not."
Harry, of course, gave a resigned sigh. "You're right, Minister." He glanced back up at the clock. "Three hours, huh? I suppose I try to get Hermione up here, then. There's no way I can prepare something that quickly without her."
The nightmares had come again. As Draco fought his way back into the land of the living – so to speak – his mind reeled with the images that had been barraging him from almost the moment he'd fallen asleep.
"Ah, my lovely one," the dark baritone called from behind him. Draco cowered beneath him, his nude body cold and shivering and shocks of pain shooting up his back from his mangled legs.
The voice placed a cold hand on Draco's trembling back in what mocked a loving caress. "Oh, now now there…This won't hurt…This time at least…You see, Mr. Malfoy, my bloodline is much like yours…Very pure, very ancient…And we have certain…skills…with which I am sure you will be most impressed."
Draco said nothing but continued to squeeze his eyes shut to avoid looking into the face of his tormentor. The cold hand slid up his spin, dancing lightly on the nape of his neck before burying in his hair and tugging his head up. "Open your eyes, Poppet," the voice crooned. Draco felt no choice but to comply, and he soon found himself staring fearfully into those onyx eyes once again. "You WILL enjoy this," the voice continued. Draco felt strands of magic flowing into his consciousness, gently stroking on the pleasure centers of his brain, and, despite his conscious opposition, he felt his body responding to the silky voice. "I will bring you to the heights of pleasure," the voice continued, "so that, in the future, you will know the true depth of pain."
Draco longed to stiffen in fear, to pull at his bonds until they gave and run as far away as possible. Instead his body responded to every touch, every soft caress, and as he felt himself being entered for the first time, keening all the while, he began to understand what it felt like to be broken…
Draco finally felt himself pulling up from the last strains of unconsciousness, and, had he the ability to move, he would have promptly emptied anything left in his undead stomach. The feeling of sheer violation he felt in the aftermath of that dream was more than he could have ever imagined. The bodily violations Draco could handle. The memory was not of the final time he'd been used, by any number of vamps, during his eight years of "service." He had long learned how to retreat within the depths of his mind, keeping his emotions locked down, allowing his body to be used only because he KNEW it would allow him to survive. What might have shamed him about those events no longer held any strength to him, as he KNEW he was alive now because of his compliance.
No, what Draco felt disgust for now was the way that voice had wound into his subconscious, forcing him not only to comply with the will of the master vampire, but to enjoy it. To imagine that he was the one who invited the violation. He had never orgasmed so hard in his life as he had that first night with the master, and then, as now, the thought made him sick. To submit to that kind of violation was absolutely unacceptable, and he would do well to forget it entirely.
The thoughts soon abandoned him, however, as the burning in his stomach and veins returned, urging him to feed, to seek out the sweet taste of merlot and allow his undying thirst to be quenched. He knew he smelt blood in the house, but it was somehow unfamiliar and pungent. He raised his head and allowed his senses to spread throughout the house. Within minutes he heard heavy footsteps walking down the hall and approaching the bedroom. He inhaled deeply to sense the life in the human's blood, which was now more familiar, but it still wasn't right. It wasn't Potter's. It wasn't his… Draco had no idea why he would think that, but just as he knew he was still a Malfoy, he knew that that blood, that life force, was not right. It would not satisfy.
"Ah, so the ferret is awake, lovely," said the redhead as it walked through the door, its voice full of sarcasm and slight bitterness. "Not to worry, my undead friend, Harry will be along quite shortly. He had more important business with the minister." The redhead stopped to allow Draco time to respond, but as he did nothing, the redhead opted to sit in an armchair next to the bedroom door and return to reading over what must be some plebian newspaper.
Draco still knew that something just wasn't right. He had no problem with the strange redhead being in the room. The issue was that Draco was terribly terribly thirsty, and Harry wasn't there! Did the silly mortal not have a clue? He belonged to Draco, and there was absolutely no excuse for him to be visiting that silly Minister when he should be here indulging Draco's every whim.
Draco no longer knew exactly what he was going to do, but he knew what he had to do. He had to find his Harry, before the burning in his stomach consumed him, leaving nothing but an ashen shell. He struggled weakly with the bonds holding his ankles and wrists, which seemed to be as strong as ever, even if Draco felt a measure of his own strength returning, before turning to face the redhead once again.
"Weasley," Draco said in a low sultry voice, demanding with his mind that the redhead just look at him, for just a moment. When the redhead lifted his head in curiosity, blue eyes met grey, and Draco sprung. He guided his magic through heretofore unexplored pathways, placing caresses as gentle as a lover's touch along the redhead's mind.
"Come to me," Draco ordered, still in that low husky tone. The redhead blinked once, twice, before rising from the chair and walking shakily towards the head of the bed where the thirsty vampire stood. The redhead lowered his head until it was inches from Draco's face. "Remove these restraints, fair one, that I might show you the meaning of pleasure." Somewhere in the back of Draco's mind he noticed the slight bulge growing in the redhead's pants, and although he CERTAINLY had no intentions of doing anything about it, it made him feel smug all the same. He smirked knowingly as the redhead lifted his wand and used a complicated series of incantations to cause the shackles to shimmer before disappearing into nothingness.
"Now, help me to sit up, my pet." The redhead continued, his blue eyes never leaving grey, lifting the vampire's legs and placing them so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed.
Before Draco had even a moment to decide what command to issue next, he heard the distinct chime of a floo activating somewhere in the house, followed by the rush of merlot and the sound of a steady heartbeat. His magic and senses quickly sought out the source of the incredible sweetness and subtly pulled it closer to where he now sat. "Sleep," he ordered the redhead, who promptly fell onto the soft duvet in a deep slumber. Draco smirked. Now all he had to do was sit and wait.
Harry was highly annoyed and even downright angry as he stepped ahead of Hermione into the floo. No sooner had she followed behind him as he felt something very off in the house. There was a sense of magic tugging him, as if willing him to follow it directly into the bedroom where a certain awake – and surely thirsty – vampire was waiting. Harry quickly grabbed Hermione's shoulder.
"Hermione, something is definitely wrong here. I am not sure what it is, but promise me you'll stay back as we go into my bedroom." Hermione simply huffed and gave him that look that he knew meant she would follow him anywhere. He sighed in exasperation. "Fine, fine, but at least stay back and give me time to figure out what the situation is before you come charging in after me, okay?"
Hermione just clucked her tongue at him. "I am sure Ron is fine, Harry. I don't feel anything out of the ordinary, and you have just got to learn how to delegate. I am sure everything is well under control, and your being out of your house for one afternoon is not going to destroy anything. Now come, let's go see our star witness. I'd rather give him the good news now so we can deal with the bad news later." Harry nodded, and the two began to step towards the bedroom.
The closer to the bedroom the two walked, the more out of sorts Harry felt. It was as if the magic was reaching into is very soul, trying to give him a sense of peace and well-being. Harry's conscious mind, of course, understood what that meant and began to feel the exact opposite. Harry had heard no voices since approaching the bedroom, and he highly doubted that Ron and Malfoy could stay away from each other's throats (metaphorically speaking) to keep the peace for that long.
Harry's heart leapt in his throat as he stepped through the doorway. There on the bed lay Ron, seemingly knocked out but looking otherwise undamaged, with Malfoy sitting, unbound, at the edge of his bed. Harry had only a moment before green eyes locked into grey, and all seemed to be lost. He found himself drowning in the silvery pools, reading lust, hunger, and desire in the dilated pupils.
The magic he had felt earlier firmly invaded his mind, passing all his Occlumency shields and coiling around his pleasure center, causing him to purr with some imagined fantasy. His body began shivering with an unknown desire as he walked, almost unbidden to kneel in front of the creature in front of him. In some corner of his mind Harry knew he should be fighting the magic, he should be working to fight off Malfoy, to rebind him to the bed before he had the opportunity to hurt anyone.
But at the moment his mind had little control over the rest of him. He was flooded with something that resembled pure desire. At that moment he had no greater ambition than to feel those pearly fangs descend onto his neck, piercing his skin, and sucking, until absolutely nothing of Harry remained. He tentatively reached up a hand, twisting it into the silvery locks behind Draco's neck, and began tugging his head gently towards him, whether to meet in a kiss or a bite, he didn't know.
"Harry!" he distantly heard an alto voice behind him screaming in terror. "Don't! Fight it! His thrall will consume you if you don't fight it!" But Harry so did not want to fight, he just wanted to fade into pleasure in oblivion without fear of what might happen once he was gone. After saving the entire wizarding world and losing everything that had really mattered to him, didn't he deserve at least that much?
Unfortunately the creature in front of him must have heard Hermione's shouting, too, as the grey eyes blinked once, then twice, then three times before the dilated pupils shrank to pinpricks. Harry felt a forceful hand placed on his shoulder before he found himself pushed to the ground, as the vampire with catlike reflexes curled into himself back on the bed.
After shaking his head a few moments to clear the haze, Harry found himself standing again, his wand trained on the bed and the pathetic vampire hovering and shivering in the middle of it. "Ennervate!" he called to his best friend, whose form abruptly shook awake.
"Harry, mate, what's going on?" the redhead asked in confusion before turning to where the vampire now huddled on the duvet.
Harry snarled as he trained his wand back on the vampire again and was about to let a flurry of curses fly when the silver-blonde head lifted and locked eyes with Harry again. This time there was no lust, no desire, nothing in the eyes that had been blurred with tears.
"Please, Harry," a small voice whimpered both in his ears and his mind, "please…Just kill me…" And Harry, for the millionth time that day, wasn't sure what to say.
Remember, ladies and gents. Reviews = love and result in quicker update times. :) Also, I am curious as to what questions my readers have up to this point. I mean, I know the questions I have of myself and am planning the upcoming answers accordingly, but as I don't have the entire plot of this fic set in stone yet I am more than happy to listen to other possibilities. Again, have a great weekend, all!
