Spiderweb

Chapter 7 Meat

(Harry)

He ran without stopping to his nest. Dodging rocks, through bushes, and jumping over fallen trees. The scent of Malfoy's blood was thick; an abrasive cocktail calling for the purest rage. An insidious invitation to madness that his spider wished to accept, and that only the tight control of the human and the guardian was able to contain.

But if Malfoy lost what he had bred within him...

He entered the caverns at a frantic pace, and only when finally inside the hollow where he had built his home did he stop, breathing hard, muscles trembling with the effort.

He looked down at the blond on his arms.

Realizing that the warmth he had felt in his arm was not just the contact of skin against chitin, but Malfoy's warm and wet blood, bathing the forearm that held his legs. Sticky, on the increasingly pale flesh of his thighs, staining them red.

The liquid was drying in some areas, thanks to the cold, to form a reddish brown crust, reminiscent of old parchment, causing the pale man look nearly white.

Harry began to fear Malfoy might die. But his breathing was still present, despite having turned into a muffled gasp, and his heartbeat hadn't stopped vibrating against Harry's own chest.

Sitting on the edge of the pile of ripped furs, the dark haired one clutched the limp body against his chest, listening intently to the erratic beating in those veins, worried it might start weakening.

Although he wouldn't have known what to do if that happened.

Instinct screamed and raced through Harry. Terrified by the idea of losing his only companion, the only member of his species he had ever known, and the only one he ever would. Perhaps the last one, besides himself, that was left.

The idea of being alone forever was terrifying.

But how wouldn't it be? Was it not of his kind to be the type of beings who mated for life? And although he could not say that he liked Draco Malfoy- not as a person, nor in any other way other than his usefulness- the thought that of remaining in the cold and sad solitude, of a shady lonely existence, was unbearable.

His spider nature believed it fervently. His conscience as guardian knew that without him, the forest would be lost. Despite this, his human side could not forget what he once was, what he had done.

However, no part of him wanted the death of the Slytherin, did not wish for his pale as whipped cream skin become gray as dry ash, dead.

'Where is Soul?' He was taking far too long.

In a few minutes it would not matter whether or not he came; neither Draco nor the baby would survive for much longer.

His fingers tightened on his load.

Perhaps it would be best to go to farther, even though it was too soon since the last time. He gritted his teeth, not wanting to have to resort to that. But the fear that gripped him was getting stronger, increasing with each new drop of red blood that was spilled.

"Fuck!" He could not wait any longer.

"Harry, boy, are you home?"

The smell, soft and old, of brittle dust, spices, musk, oils and fat, floated to Harry with the murmur of that dry cracked voice, spreading through his nervous system, and filling him with much needed relief.

Soul had come.

A stocky figure emerged from the shadows of the cave, limping as he walked.

The old man was bent under the weight of a large bundle of burlap. His skin was much like old leather in texture and looks, where age marks piled on each other. Wrinkles, fine lines and translucent veins, formed a map of the years and years he had lived. His hair, once a bright blonde, had long since become white. His body had twisted like the trunk of a tree over the decades. And the magic that had run through his veins like a fast mountain stream had been calmed until it became a calm lake.

But his mind was still as lively as a carnival serpentine, and his energy it seemed would last a few more years. An inheritance of his vela blood.

Soul was very old. Older than Harry could understand. It was him the one who had taken Harry in when he came to the forest for the first time, exhausted, confused and in pain, running away from a world he no longer understood, nor wanted to understand.

Soul had been Harry's support during his early days in the forest, the one who had helped balance his natures, and to fully understand himself. As well as the one who had kept him sane, when Harry realized he would have to eat human flesh.

If anyone could help him now, it had to be him.

"I need your help, Soul. My mate has been attacked, and our young is dying." Gently, he deposited Malfoy on the furs, so the old vela could see him.

The Slytherin's skin was ashen, his breathing choked, the slight tremor of his naked body- all signs he was weakening fast.

Soul approached the nest, and left the bag on the floor at his feet. His calm blue eyes, watching Draco's limp body, with the same careful affection of a grandfather who observes the scratches upon his grandson.

He placed his fingers at the base of Draco's stained and sticky red pubis, feeling carefully, and nodding to himself as the seconds passed, answering questions that were only in his mind, and whispering assertions that Harry barely caught in fragments.

Finally, he smiled, an elderly warm smile, cleaning his bloodstained fingers on his clothes, and began to rummage in the bag.

"How are they?" Harry could not help the worry filling his throat. Revealing to the old vela how important was for him the young Death Eater.

Soul smiled kindly.

"Do not worry, they'll be fine. Your partner is not as weak as you might think. Ah! Here it is," and extracted from the sack an old worn wooden mortar.

Harry nodded, making himself stay quiet. See how the healer worked. Trying to capture a sense of calm, while the protective instinct prickled his nerves, already on the verge of violence.

Gradually, those old hands began to pour into the mortar handfuls and pinches of other things-dry and deeply scented leaves, remains of bright insects, spicy powders, crushed roots-grinding everything into a grainy sand, to finally mix it all with the juicy insides of a pumpkin. The resulting mixture was a viscous creamy paste of a brownish green colour.

The smell of the cream was incredibly pervasive, almost rude in its scent. Harry would not speculate on its taste, much less when Soul brought a pinch to his mouth after plunging the tip of a finger on the green mass.

"It's ready. Come help me apply it."

The older pulled out a roll of bandage spun from spider-silk, and placed it in Harry's hands.

"I will put a bit on his belly and between his thighs, and the rest will have to be swallowed. But when I'm done, you must firmly bandage his pubis, his stomach, and especially the area between his thighs, so that the mixture takes effect, and the bleeding stops."

Soul began to carefully apply the cream on the bloody, incredibly soft and smooth underbelly, between his white buttocks, and in his pink tongue, forcing the blond to swallow the strange concoction with infinite tenderness. Massaging his battered throat, and retiring the sweaty hair stuck to his temples, boundlessly gentle with his ministrations.

When he was finished, and as he put everything back on the sack, Harry slowly uncoiled the bandages, pressing them to the angles and planes of that pale figure, now a little less ashen.

His hands, without Harry's conscious thought, delayed on the slytherin's abdomen, where his seed was growing, and between those pale thighs, where only a few hours earlier, he had entered.

Exploring briefly, possessively, taking in the contouring of the body that from now on would be his forever. His to protect, to own, to ...

The black widow pressed two fingers to his temple, trying to regain control, to send the instinct burning through him, back to the black spaces at the back of his mind.

Those possessive and protective cravings were starting to get insane. He forced himself to look at the dark mark on that slightly trembling, arm. Reminding himself what kind of monster he was trying to save, with what kind of sadistic murderer whose soul was sold to the darkness he had ran across. Memories, and well known hatred, relighting instantly.

Malfoy was a Death Eater, a wizard without conscience.

With a couple of fast sudden movements, he finished bandaging the blond. There was only one more thing he needed to know.

"The hatchling will be fine?

"As long as your mate rests and takes proper care. In fact, I wanted to talk about it. But first, you should light a fire. Your submissive will thank you for it, almost as much as I will. This cold gets deep into the bones; I'm not as young as I once was." Harry almost smiled. When had Soul been young?

Soon there was a blazing fire heating up the cave, fed with wood that Harry often stored in drier tunnels.

They sat on the floor by it, enjoying the pleasant warm; one eye on their conversation, the other in Draco, making sure that he did not worsen, although he already looked better.

In the orange light, Draco seemed almost relaxed. Harry looked away, ignoring the satisfied purr of his spider.

"What did you want to talk about?"

Soul outstretched and rubbed his hands toward the heat, thankful for it.

"I thought it would be good that we talk about how you should care for him, especially now that he's pregnant. Since there hasn't been anyone else of your species in the forest for more than a century, I do not think you know much about it."

Harry nodded. The last thing he wanted was to lose the hatchling. He could not afford it. Not with the declining pace of the great spirit.

"What I have to do?" His face was but a stony mask.

His answer seemed to please the old man.

"I'm glad you take it seriously."-he smiled like a proud father -"You must know that …"

oOo

Uhm…

"Merlin ..."

Draco shifted weakly. He felt heavy and hungry, and very, very tired, but the hunger was bigger than the sleepiness, so niggling that it didn't let him back to the world of unconsciousness.

He shifted again, and knew what had awakened him. A deliciously rich smell. He had never smelled anything that did arouse his appetite quite so ferociously.

His mouth was filling with saliva.

Finally he forced himself to open his eyes, blinking languidly. There was another man sitting beside him on the bed . A male, athletic and powerful. "Who…?" He started to look up ... broad shoulders, the edge of crazy black hair ...

A hand rested, gently but firmly, over his eyes.

"You'd better not look at me."

Draco swallowed. He knew that voice, but it no longer had that almost monstrous hissing quality, yet the deep masculine tone was the same.

"How…? How can ...? You're the monster." Just barely awake, the shock made Draco react almost violently.

He writhed trying to get loose, but his strength was decimated to near extinction, and was no match for the other open palm that landed on his torso, pinning him down.

"Calm down. There are many things you don't know." The tone, seemingly quiet but stressed with tension, did nothing to calm him.

"Don't Touch me!" Nerves, stress, injuries, exhaustion, fear for all those people who were waiting for him at Hogwarts, the ... rape. The images, memories he had been avoiding, came back full force. His nerves were finally breaking.

"I said; Let me go!" He writhed again trying to get rid of the creature.

Harry frowned. Malfoy was getting too nervous. With the state he was in, and the baby hardly out of danger, if this continued ... It did not take but a moment to allow a fraction of his instinct to emerge. Spider fangs and venom, in his mouth, conjured in a body otherwise human.

Draco tensed like rope, at the feeling of warm breath on the sensitive skin of his throat.

"NO!" But the fangs were already gently piercing his skin, and the poison was flooding his bloodstream.

The spy's body began to relax slowly, softening and losing strength, until he fell completely limp on the furs.

Fear flooded Draco's insides with its cold fist, reminding him of the only other time he had felt the bite of the creature. Yet, he swallowed, forcing himself not to show it.

He awaited with mounting tension for when the feeling would become honey in his veins. Prepared to resist with all he had.

"Are you going to rape me again?" His cold tone, frosted into a blade of hatred that almost made Harry sigh. This wasn't going to be easy.

"That's not why I've bitten you. You needed to calm down, and it was the only way. We have to talk."

"Talk about what?" Despite having his eyes covered, and feeling limp as a wet towel, Draco still managed to make his voice poison; corrosive like hissing acid.

"About what you don't know. What you don't understand."

Harry would have liked to look at Malfoy's eyes as he spoke, to try to gauge what he was thinking. But he couldn't let himself be recognized. The only reason he had assumed human form, was to validate his next words.-"I'm not a monster. Contrary to what you may believe, what I did was necessary." He didn't wait for an answer. "We belong to an almost extinct race. I even though I was the last, until you walked into the woods. We are all that is left, you know? I had to do what I did, because instinct didn't leave me another choice, because it was the only way you would consent."He, conveniently, kept silence about the other side of the truth- the reason he so desperately needed a descendant. At the end of the day, Malfoy was what he was. And if, by some oversight, he returned to the wizards, the information that he was keeping silent could give Voldemort the key needed to finally destroy the last defense of the forest, and chop all the magical creatures that inhabited it for nothing more that potion parts.

And that, Harry would never allow.

"We are widows."

Draco swallowed, or at least he tried to. His mouth felt suddenly dry as sandpaper.

"You are crazy." But the words were nothing more than a limp whisper. The last weak denial of a child who has discovered his parents putting Christmas presents under the tree, and who knows that all his children's dreams are just that, dreams.

"I'm not. If you had not been of my kind, the poison would have killed you."

'I know. I know.' Draco's inner voice answered, broken, defeated.

All he wanted was to pretend it was not true. But he had studied ad nauseum all sorts of topics, books and scrolls, seeking a way to end this wave of darkness that had begun to permeate all since the dark lord took over the world. And he had always had a very good memory. Now his mind refused to forget what he already knew.

He remembered reading about them years ago. Information that only now, at hearing the name, came to memory.

Things about beings with spider blood, that were able to look human and arachnids, and all the intermediate forms. Of their power, strength, their resistance to magic, their ... extinction.

Supposedly they had been extinct for more than two centuries. Hunted to nothing for their magical qualities.

'And their venom is deadly to anyone who does not belong to the species.'

He swallowed again. Now he appreciated the warm hand resting on his eyelids; it's presence somehow reassuring in the velvety darkness within his own eyelids.

He didn't think he could have looked to that being without cracking at least a little. And as much as he had allowed this creature to see of him, he would not give him that too. Instead he decided to hold onto the anger, even if the poison tempered its call, and prevented him from thinking too clearly. At least there was no honey in his blood this time.

For some reason, the poison felt different.

"So that's it?! You think we're the only ones left of this cursed species, and want to continue with it, even if you have to keep forcing me until you get what you want?!" The rage he had gripped onto became pain as he spoke the words, dripping down them like tears.

Harry winced.

His instincts reacted to the pain he saw in his mate, urging him to calm the other down. But its murmur wasn't going beyond the back of his mind, where he had locked it down, and Harry found it far too easy to ignore.

Despite that, he was tired of being dragged by the animal lust and desire, already having been driven enough by them these last few days. The new pull infuriated him. He was not dealing with a pure and delicate being-he was dealing with a Death Eater, and he would act accordingly. The human remembered all too well all the wounds Malfoy had gifted them.

"You're right. I would have… had I not succeeded. But alas, you are pregnant."

The words were like a knife.

"Wha ... ?! NO!" Were it not for the substance in his blood, Draco would have tried to claw out the thing from his belly with his own hands.

The idea of a spider growing inside himself, even if it was of his blood, was disgusting and completely terrifying.

His body jerked up, and nausea preyed on his stomach, cringing at the reminder that it was painfully empty.

"Calm down, you will only feel worse."

Draco opened his mouth, to yell and demand how he could get even worse. But he could not emit more than a gurgle as his voice was drowned before it even rose when the fangs of the black widow plunged again into his throat.

This time, the dose of poison left him completely groggy, unable to form a single coherent thought. All he was able to feel clearly was the soft skin of the rippling palm on his eyelids, the once human flesh gaining a smooth and terribly hard layer of chitin.

When a moment later it withdrew from his face, the one before him was the semi human monster he already knew.

The male torso was just as black as before, its surface covered in obsidian-like chitin, shiny as the shell of a beetle. From his face, huge green eyes not unlikely those of a nymph studied him. Powerful jaws, between whose lips protruded fangs of an arachnid , and wild black hair, completed the nightmarish portrait.

Every human trace was gone.

However, the warm feeling of the poison did not allow him to feel anything more than a vague curiosity. Draco blinked languidly, watching the being go, only to return a little later with something in his talons. For a moment, he didn't know what it was, but the smell was delicious, and he was so hungry...

" ... Please …" he could only mumble in a confused whisper.

And Harry obliged.

He knew Malfoy would now be too weak to eat by himself, but that was better than the hate and panic he would have had to see in his eyes had he not drugged him.

"Ssssh, quiet. You can eat all you want." Harry brought the lightly decaying arm he had been grilling to his own mouth, and took a bite, avoiding the area where the Dark Mark was printed in.

He chew briefly, turning the meat into a juicy pulp, and bent over the blond man, to melt their lips together in a hungry kiss.

The instinct, so long trapped inside Draco, stretched in the darkness of his mind, and suggested with its serpentine voice the almost erotic way in which he had to open his lips, to receive that exquisite flesh.

Harry felt pink lips part slightly, as the red tip of the tongue sought his mouth and the offered food. The sensation, the eroticism of having Draco responding for the first time to his touch made his body stiffen and desire crawl up his spinal cord like lightning from a marine storm; wild, brutal. A growl of pleasure caught in his throat, making the blonde shiver.

'Later.' He told himself firmly, caging his instincts with everything he had.

First, he should address his mate's hunger, so that he, as well as the baby, were well fed. But after, after… he would deal with the most basic needs of both their spiders. Soul's words still whispering in his head:

'There will be times when you will want your mate, when resisting will be tortuous. Do not. If you think that's what a submissive needs, you're wrong. His instincts will run crazy while pregnant, and it will only become worse. If you do not submit to your own instinct, and take him, fill him with your seed, balancing his hormones with yours, he will become frantic."

When all the meat was eaten, and its juice heated their stomachs, their mouths joined by tender threads of saliva and shreds of the bloody juice, he seized the languid calm of Malfoy's brain wrapped in poison. And Harry, ruled by the spider's instinct, bent over Draco, looked for his fill within his body.

His fingers opened those thighs as white as cream. His claws curled into those creamy hips. His tongue licked those candy-like nipples. And his member embedded in the depths of that tunnel of silk. Groaning, grabbing each other, grunting, trying to take all the other had to offer, until both were filled with the other's fluids; saliva, blood, poison and semen, coating them inside and out. They went on until Draco collapsed entirely, and nothing was heard in the quiet stillness of his sleeping nest.

To be continue