Notes:
Hi again.I have been pretty occupied as of late, ironically enough because I'm on holiday. Still, don't worry, here is your promised chapter. I should have warned you sooner that one coma in dialogues means it's a thought, and two it's something actually being said.
I hope you like this long chapter. And have a great Halloween.
Welcome to:
Spiderweb
Chapter 9. Under Skin
"Soul."Harry called from the doorway.
The kind old man turned to greet him, as he set the wooden spoon he had been stirring the soup with, on the table.
Soul's house could barely be called so, as it was little more than a large hole in the ground, under the huge roots of a century-old oak.
But nevertheless, it had a fireplace -one made of old red bricks, blackened by use- wooden furniture, and large carpets to cast out the cold. Accompanied by dozens of odds and ends; polished stones, dried plants hanging from the ceiling in bouquets, ceramic jars full of roots, nuts, pots, cutlery, and glass jars filled with insects and animals parts, giving the place a spicy aroma- a mixture of wood smoke, dry leaves, and delicate almost spicy, difficult to define, undertones.-
Harry sometimes wondered about the origin of the furniture and utensils, but everything was so old, that no doubt it had been there decades before the war.
"Boy, what are you doing here?" Soul asked, a gentle smile curving his wrinkled mouth. "Your mate is feeling well?"Almost before he finished talking, his hands were already searching among the jars on the shelves.
"Yes, the wizard's ok."- Enough to make demands. Harry thought to himself in veiled rage. And maybe, deep down, a hint of sardonic admiration. - "I've come to ask you to talk to Father for me."
The long fingers of the old vela, stopped, as he finally looked at Harry, and his smile became a grimace of concern.
"What have you done, child?"
"What I had to." Harry swallowed the guilt that would have wanted to burn his throat.
Knowing that this was the only way to save the forest. The reminder gave him strength to say what he had come to tell, without looking away.
Soul frowned, his wrinkled and stained hands, squirming together.
"What have you promised?"- and there was genuine concern in his cracked voice.
Harry felt his shoulders tense with the desire to alleviate the elder, but didn't allow himself to help. Not yet, when he had such bad news to give.
"The wizard is fighting on Dumbledore's side. He wants that I accompany him to Hogwarts, in exchange …"
"What have you done?" - Soul interrupted, but Harry went on.
"In exchange, he offered his body, to do with him as I please."
Soul shook his head wearily, not so much in denial, as if in a gesture of defeat.
"I won't change your mind, right?"
Harry swallowed. The only gesture of weakness he allowed himself. If he let himself soften, Soul will convince him to stay, and there was so much depending on this, he could not afford it.
This was the only way.
"I'm not sorry."
The old vela male seemed to have suddenly aged a decade, and when he dropped into a chair, his whole body sank into the furniture as if he had lost his strength.
"And you want that I be the one to tell the Great Spirit, that you are going." It wasn't even a question.
"Please." Harry asked calmly, knowing what would be the answer.
Soul gave a short laugh that was anything but cheerful.
"All right, boy. I will talk to him. Although you know he won't like this, do you?"
Harry nodded, the tension he had just realized had been gripping him, shedding from his shoulders.
"I know. That's why it must be you. Tell him tomorrow, when we are already gone."
Soul waved a hand vaguely, as a sign of acceptance.
"Be careful boy."
"I will."
oOo
(Draco)
Draco pressed his fingers to his tender belly, feeling carefully, checking if the pink scars still hurt. But he only felt a slight discomfort, he knew, would soon disappear.
The black widow had known some healing spells good for superficial wounds. And although his knowledge went no further; of the scratches and deep stone-cut, remained no more than a few pinkish lines, that still needed some time, to lose the delicacy of freshly healed wounds.
After, he had gone to talk to the acromantulas, or forest creatures, or whoever he needed to warn about his departure. He had not given any further explanations. And Draco didn't need them. But he wished they had left immediately.
Time was essential to Hogwarts and its inhabitants. And a few hours could mean the difference between life and death.
Images, memories of the tortures he had been forced to attend, and execute, in the service of the Dark Lord, wanted to embrace his mind like snakes coming out of their den, encompassing his deepest fears.
But Draco killed the thought before it could materialize at all.
There would not be any advantage on his squirming in concern. Instead, he chose to go over everything he knew, all he could remember of the members of the inner circle, trying to discover who among them could be the traitor. If it was one of them, that is.
It was hard, everyone was tired of the war, all had lost loved ones, everyone had wanted to surrender sometime. Draco knew that feeling of helplessness, that terrible weight that seemed to talk, hinting that no matter what you did, it was useless, only a matter of time before the Dark Lord killed them.
But despite all the difficulties, they had managed to move on, find reasons to fight.
Or so he'd thought...
"¿Do you have strength for the trip?"
The question broke his thoughts, from the darkness of the entrance to the nest.
The surprise and relief made Draco turn his head toward the sound, in the same instant his brain caught ...
Familiarity. Not only recognition. The voice that of the arachnid, yet, at the same time, that of someone else …
The recognition he had not expected, made his breath catch for a second between his teeth. The only physical reaction, he was not quick enough to hide.
Draco had heard that voice before.
Without the sizzle of the arachnid form, the human voice was so recognizable... like very black chocolate. Sweet and sour. And the taste was made as appetizing, as a long saved ounce on silver glossy paper.
He suppressed the shiver that wanted to climb his skin.
'Where have I heard it before?' He thought, tried to remember the person, the face that was to accompany the voice, but the knowledge slipped through his fingers like smoke.
The one who had spoken, left the darkness to approach the nest.
The greenish light of fungi slid down the black robe he wore- dressed for the first time before Draco- like dark water. Traveling across the fabric, the burden he was carrying, and shiny leather boots he wore, in a light caress.
For the aristocrat it was easy to see that the robe did not truly conform to his figure. The high quality fabric spoke of a custom-made piece, designed for someone quite thicker than him. And the spy found himself wondering from what body the monster had taken it. Or whom he had killed to get it.
The clothes, the voice ... for the first time the monster looked human. And as a man remained tall, almost as tall as in his hybrid form. He was all broad shoulders and heavy musculature, loaded with a grace that did not match the power Draco could feel radiating from him.
He moved with the fluidity of a spider even as a man, and Draco knew why he had not heard him coming.
He sought the creature's face, unconsciously, anxious, the air of familiarity increasingly powerful ... But the darkness of the folds cast by his hood, didn't allow more than shadows to be seen.
"He's hidden from me." Suspicion prickled his nerves like the teeth of a hedgehog.
They knew each other.
Draco couldn't define it. But there it was; certainty. As if his mind and his chest were pulling long unused valves. Sometime, somehow, they had already met.
For a moment, he wondered how that first time he had found his human form, that feeling had not seized him. But he recalled that at that time he had been drugged, injured, and unlikely to perceive anything beyond the mental agony of the rape.
Rape ...with the memory the thirst for knowledge became imperative. For if the other had forced him, having already previously met…
Who was him? An old enemy? Someone Draco had hurt as a boy? A stranger he had crossed paths with at some point? No, not that. He was too familiar to be just that.
Anger and the desire to know, burned his insides. But the spy didn't allow his feelings into his gestures.
'Who you are?' he thought, brushing aside the furs, lowering from the bed.
"Shall we go now?" - he asked. Voice calm, almost bored. The relaxed posture of a falsely calm snake.
"First get dressed. Outside has started to snow again." Harry threw the burden of skin and cloth he had been carrying at the blonde's feet, all contempt and indifference.
Draco raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He just took the clothes, and shook the dust of the ground, from them. The jumble of things were a pair of worn faded white pants, a sweater of pale wool large enough it could serve him as sleeping shirt, a pair of soft brown boots, and a coat of thick snow-white fur.
The quality of the coat caught his attention instantly. It's softness, thickness ... he plunged his hand into it, watching his palm disappeared into the fur, as smoothly as between feathers. Using the gesture as an excuse to remain naked before the other, a moment longer.
Despite having to suppress the nausea of being seen by the same monster that had him raped ... Draco chained the memories well away from his thoughts. He needed all his weapons, to pry the information he wanted from the creature.
'Seduce, distract, and eventually he would make a mistake.' was his mantra.
As it was easy to see that the other found him attractive. His posture, his apparent indifference, the way Draco could feel his gaze follow his every move... He was sure, that despite the monster's own judgement, he wanted him.
"It's really thick. There are very few animals with such a skin." Malfoy said with apparent distraction, searching for a way to make the other speak. Since if he heard his voice again, perhaps he would manage to remember where and when, he had heard it before.
"It's snowcat fur" His cold voice didn't give Draco the grip he needed. So the spy hid his frustration, and took advantage of the sudden comment of the widow, looking up from the coat at him.
He could not say for sure, but for a moment, thought his eyes had met. The feeling of disgust and suppressed anger the slytherin caught from the arachnid, brushed his senses like a scratch. His own hatred rose in response. But he forced himself to caress the sharp feelings to calm them. Always keeping a clear mind, was the first rule of a spy.
He looked to the snowcat coat again.
The magic inherent in the species, turned their coat into a natural insulator from the cold, much better than any spell. Their skin had been highly prized for making winter coats, when Voldemort had not yet ascended to the throne. That was over ten years ago. No one had seen any of those huge magical cats since the dark forest closed.
Where had, the big spider, taken it from? He put the question in the back of his mind, to contemplate later. Any little hint could always be useful.
Draco rose from the nest carefully, and proceeded to dress. Too much time naked and the monster could believe he was trying to provoke him. Something that would raise his suspicions. Who would try to seduce the monster who had raped them?
For now he will seek to approach without straying too far from the facade of the aristocrat. His strange attitude so far, could be excused by stressful circumstances, but if he didn't start to act as expected of him, the monster might discover his intentions, and hide back in his spidery forms. And if he did, the chances of knowing who he was, would be reduced to almost zero.
Because if what he suspected was true, they had already met years earlier, when Draco was still only the young, spoiled, proud, aristocrat, he had buried nearly a decade ago. That gave him an advantage. The other was sure to underestimate his intelligence, and thus, make a mistake.
Finally, he put on the coat, not trying to hide his surprise at how good it felt on him.
Consequently, he forced himself to say the word.
"Thanks." His voice cold, yet polite. The mixture would be expected of him in this situation. He hoped the widow believed that what he did was try to lay the foundations for a cordial relationship, for the months that were to come.
Harry raised an eyebrow.
He had not believed that Malfoy would thank him for the gift. And for a moment, the instinct of the widow flamed through his gut, filled with the satisfaction of having pleased his submissive. A moment later, his human side crushed him like an annoying insect.
'If I have to live with the snake, I can not allow him to earn anything from me, no feelings, no trust, nor anything else beyond what is absolutely necessary.' Harry told himself.
The way his widow part had jumped when the slytherin had been injured, had come to frighten him when he had time to think about it. It was too confusing, too strong. He could not let his instincts dominate him, not when so much depended on his mission. And Malfoy was a manipulative bastard, you had only to see how he moved from one side of the war to the other, as he pleased.
'And I won't be one of his puppets.'
The cold hatred of his childhood ran through his blood, cooling his response like liquid nitrogen.
"Do not thank me. If you suffer, the hatchling suffers. Just don't freeze out."
Draco nodded proudly. He had not expected a better response.
He finished buttoning up the coat, and ran his fingers between his tangled blond locks, trying to give them a more decent look. Although he knew it was useless, he did it nonetheless, just to give his character a little more credibility.
"Your name." He demanded.
"What?"
Draco pretended to swallow a sigh of impatience, and approached the black widow keeping a safe distance between the them.
Back straight and chin slightly raised in a self-assured pose that revealed a good portion of the creamy white skin of his throat. Unconscious really, of the seductive gesture that his barely awake instincts, were inducing him to adopt.
For the large spiders, there were very few spots as erotic as the throat.
"What's your name? Or you do not have one?" he repeated, easily slipping into the almost cruel language of his childhood.
Harry cocked his head to one side, trapping the desire to simply ignore him, watching the blond with disgust, but aware, unwittingly, of the bluish hue, like a brush-caress, of the veins under the skin.
At some point he would need to give the slytherin a name. So why not answer the git, and get it over with?
That didn't mean he had to be friendly, of course.
'They call me the guardian. But if we go to that castle of yours, I guess I will need a human name." The condescending tone, almost hurtful.
Draco said nothing, didn't think it was needed. It was enough to lift a brow in a truly aristocratic gesture. A reflection of the elegant arts of his mother, who seldom needs words to show, with the coldness of the lady of the house, her displeasure.
"I suppose you may call me Raksa."
"From Raksaka?" It means guardian in Hindi lands. Where did he learnt that? One more piece for the puzzle that remained tangled in his brain.
The guardian nodded. No wonder Malfoy knew, as an aristocrat he was expected to be cult.
"My name is Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."
'As if I could forget.' Harry thought, his mental voice full of resentment. But he forced himself to nod, showing that he had heard.
"And now that we've finished with the greetings," He turned without waiting to see if it was followed. "let's get moving. Otherwise we will not arrive before nightfall "
Malfoy hastened to follow in his footsteps through the underground tunnels, eager to get to Hogwarts as soon as possible.
It was obvious that Raksa wasn't happy with the situation. And Draco could not help feeling a little touch of vindictive satisfaction, bathing his insides.
oOo
The last meters of the tunnel were colder than the caverns inside. The icy breeze of the fresh snowfall, entering the cave system with sibylline fingers, that brushed against their faces, turning into vapor their breaths, and forcing Draco to burrow a little deeper into his new coat.
The light kept intensifying, until they could see the exit just a few meters away.
As the widow had said, the increasingly dark clouds, were letting a new wave of snow fall on the crusted snow and ice already in place. Replacing the dirty white with a completely pure one, and turning the soil twice as dangerous; Deeper and more slippery. While whitening the trees and shrubs of the clearing, to an even grayer hue than before.
The constant cold was killing the forest's vegetation.
"Wait here." The monster's voice pulled Draco from his insubstantial thoughts, in time to see him disappear among the trees. Only to return a few moments later, followed by a huge acromantula.
The insect kept near Raksa, like a dog to his master, as obedient as one.
"Egoro will come with us to the forest's frontier, so you don't have to walk there through the snow."
Draco raised an eyebrow, and looked at the insect, he knew, fed on human flesh. Hesitating a moment, weighing the pros and cons of looking fearful. But he was no longer a child, and the widow had seen him interact with even bigger arachnids, without ruffling a hair.
He lifted his chin.
"All right."
Draco left the passage to stand before them, face impassive and determined. The acromantula was as tall as himself. So he turned to the widow regally, as if he had every right to give him orders.
"So? Will you help me up?"
Harry gritted his teeth. 'As cocky and proud as ever.' Malfoy had not changed his manners, that much was evident. He took the aristocrat by the waist, lifting him effortlessly, to sit on Egoro's bulbous back.
"Let's go." If a word had sounded so contained of fury on Raksa's lips, Draco had not heard it before.
He hid his gently cruel smile on the fur of his coat, and hoped the other was wringing inside.
oOo
The blizzard was getting stronger, and as night was closing, the wind howled through the trees with banshee wails.
Snowflakes as large as his hand obscured their vision, and in the darkness, the magical light the widow had invoked, was slightly more visible than the little flame of a match.
However, despite the blizzard, Raksa seemed to know the way. He moved through the darkness in an almost unnatural way -too quick, too fluid- even being sunk in cellist to his knees; as if despite only having two legs now, he was moving with eight.
The acromantula followed him with the same predatory grace, carrying Malfoy, who kept scrutinizing the dark for the lights of Hogwarts.
The trees became more sparse, and the cold more intense. The wind shook their clothes furiously and threw snow flakes to their faces.
It was becoming difficult to move on, as there was less vegetation cover to cut off the attack of the elements. When they finally emerged fully from the forest, the road to the castle was invisible, swallowed beneath layers of whiteness, and the night that had finally fallen completely, plunging everything in the blackness of a jar of ink.
They could not even see the moon in the sinister darkness, filled by the howl of the storm. The ball of blue light in Raksa's palm was all that seemed to remain of the world; a small illuminated circle furrowed by ice laden wind.
They stopped.
"Egoro can't go on!" Raksa's cry was almost drowned by the howling wind.
Draco had to strain his ears to hear the words. He felt numb, muscles stiff. Aching from remaining motionless so long, on hard chitin. But his mind was still alert, like a shark smelling blood.
"All right" Draco called back, more for himself than for Raksa, as he surely would not be able to hear him.
Malfoy let himself slide down the side of the spider awkwardly. And when he stepped onto the snow, he sank to his thighs, getting chilled to the bones.
The dark lord has to be furious.
It was at times like this, when one really understood how huge was the grip that Voldemort had on the world. His darkness affected all like poison, even dyeing nature itself. The only positive thing about it, was that his anger was always easy to predict. Draco hoped his moodiness meant good news for the resistance.
He approached Raksa through the snow. The widow was restless, smelling the air, breathing deeply. Suddenly it was as if he had caught something, his body fell completely still for a moment, and frowned. Then turned his head toward him.
"We should head back, the storm will soon get worse!" Harry had not perceived it until they were in the open, outside the forest, where the scent of the trees and creatures could not mask the smell of ice and thunder. They had to seek shelter before it got, much, much worse.
"NO! You promised to take me to Hogwarts!" They had not come this far to turn back now. They were so close ... fear tripled in his chest wanting to stop his pulse.
"If we continue now the storm will break on us!" A gust of wind hit them threatening to extinguish the magical flame, forcing them to shrink an instant.
The cry, full of fear, anger and pain, of Draco rose above the gale with a fury comparable to the storm.
"THE STORM IS ALREADY ON US! WE WON'T MANAGE TO RETURN TO THE NEST IN TIME! HOGWARTS IS MUCH CLOSER!"
Harry gritted his teeth and looked around. The storm was getting worse. They could not stand there arguing.
"Fuck! We will go to Hogwarts, okay! But don't stray away from me!" Then he looked at the acromantula, restless in the increasingly powerful storm. "Go back to the forest Egoro! We will continue forward!"
The spider stayed a moment longer, undecided, not wanting to leave his master in the storm, but at the order he ended losing himself in the demonic darkness, back to the Dark Forest.
"Come on!" Harry called to Malfoy, and they began their walk through hell.
oOo
Draco didn't know how long they had been walking for; minutes, hours ... time was no longer measurable. In the terrible storm every step was a struggle.
He stumbled.
"Malfoy!"
Harry tangled his fingers around Malfoy's narrow waist, pulling the blond against his chest before the he could collapse in the snow.
Draco shook his head to clear it. Hogwart's lights were right in front of them. Ghostly orange reflections, in the dark, behind the pale curtain of the blizzard.
The icy wind was burning in his lungs, drowning his breathing. His lips felt chapped, his facial skin raw, body numb, blood slow. Every step was a fight against the storm. And now, when so short a walk was left, he felt his body beginning to fail.
Draco forced himself to straighten up.
He would be an idiot, if he thought he could continue their current pace. And Draco was many things, but never an idiot.
He put his arm around the shoulders of the widow, despite the dislike of physical contact.
"Help me go on!" came his hoarse cry, quasi broken on the cold, but the willpower behind it seemed to burn in the sound.
Harry felt his instinct creep inside, and hit the back of his mind with a spark of desire. It was almost a day since he had left his spider free, and the arachnid was starting to get impatient.
Having their submissive so close, to feel his body against their own, hear the fire that warmed the blond inside... it was enough to wake the beast and piss him off.
He did not understand why he had to stay caged. Why he was not allowed to satisfy a desire they both felt.
The human gritted his teeth, forcing the animal side to sit still, even if he clawed wildly against him, giving Harry a headache.
"Okay." - The furious growl just made increase his cerebral patter. He started with Malfoy. Each step accompanied by a furious internal insult.
oOo
(Hermione)
"Hey Neville. How's the round?"
"There's nothing new. O, it's relay time already?"
He yawned, stretching his muscles, stiff after hours sitting in the same position. "I had not noticed."
Hermione smiled gently, noting the brand that the wall had left on his cheek. Neville had fallen asleep again.
"Go on, and take some rest. You obviously need to." The irony in her words, made Neville blush in shame. He had not meant to fall asleep, but there was so little to do...
"See you at breakfast Hermione." he barely whispered with a shy smile.
Hermione watched him go; A young, burly man, though good-natured, much like a youthful version of Santa Claus, with his calm and cheerful blue eyes, and the peace he carried with himself, you could almost breathe. He looked a little rumpled, stubbly, hair unkempt ... but nearly all members of the order had the same unkempt appearance.
It's hard to worry about how you look, when you constantly have the threat of death over your head.
And yet, there were innocence, joy, and peace, in Hogwarts which at intervals could be seen here and there; in Neville's eyes, in the liveliness of Hugo and Rose, in the affection that could be seen flourish between Fleur and Bill... It was easy to remember why they fought for, when one was near them. But it was also just as easy to see the cost of that struggle. One just had to go outside to find the heavy price they had all paid ...
She shook her head.
"I'm just thinking about him thanks to the storm."
Mione sat in the chair beside the huge wooden doors, ready for another long night of reading. Usually there was not much else to do in the night shifts. And today, well, all she wanted was to sink her mind in a book and forget. Mainly the loneliness she could almost breathe in the empty hall, but also a very old memory that surfaced on nights like this.
"Harry ..."
From her pocket she took out a half-read book, of yellowed and wrinkled pages. Her attention only half in it. The other half watched the memory of a teenager in a storm equal to this.
oOo
The hissing wind blew through the cracks in doors and windows, to freely run by the high stone ceilings, speaking to anyone who wanted to hear of the blizzard running outside.
Playing with the torches along the walls, to create mystical and weird shadows.
And enchanting the vast empty entrance arch, its dimly lit staircase and high ceilings, with the spirit of wetlands and ancient caves.
In its presence the empty space seemed mysterious, and lonely, despite the delicacy of the stone reliefs and polished marble slabs.
The sound of a knock on wood, came suddenly, echoed on the walls, and rose to the ceiling, twisting and resonating, like the tolling of the bells of a crypt.
Hermione stood instantly, the book slipping from her hands to the ground, while her wand appeared in them with the swiftness of a snake.
She turned to the door.
"Who ...?" - All possible arrivers came to her mind. But tonight there was not any scheduled return. 'Refugees?' she thought. It had happened before, that some nights refugees would arrive. People fleeing the oppressive rule of the dark lord. Although they became increasingly rare, as Death Eater patrols augmented in number, and Voldemort seized power to begin poisoning people against the resistance they represented.
Her eyes narrowed.
'Death Eaters?' It was impossible to cross Hogwart's magical barriers if you came carrying bad intentions. 'No. It can not be. The alarms have not gone off.'
Refugees then.
Still, when she approached the door, it was with her full repertoire of spells at the tip of her tongue. Prevention was better than sorrow. A hard lesson she had learned in the most painful way.
"Who is there?" She called.
"Hermione?" Someone answered.
The male voice stole her breath. She could not believe it. Until she recalled the network of spells covering the entrance, courtesy of Gringotts former goblins. Detectors to reveal any spell, potion, or ruse, that may had altered the appearance of the visitors.
It could not be anyone but him.
'He's alive!'
"Draco!" Hastily she fought against the bolt.
When she opened the door, snow and wind came in with the two figures that had to help re-close it. But when the bolt was thrown back in place...
She wrapped her arms around the blonde with all her strength. They staggered and nearly fell. But neither of them cared.
Hermione hiccupped between sobs, like a child who has been found by her mother, when she was believed lost. The weight in her soul lightened when she felt Draco return the embrace.
"Merlin ... We thought you were dead! When we learned that you had entered the forest …" She felt tears escaped between her eyelids. "Everyone said it was impossible that you survived." she whispered just, in a broken voice, burying her face in his chest, inhaling his scent, convincing herself that it was indeed him. No one but Draco smelled like fine powder of myrrh. The expensive perfume calmed her senses, as nothing else could have.
Draco smiled against the tangle of her brown hair, escaping crazy in all directions of the precarious ponytail.
He had not even realized how much he had needed that hug, until he received it. The pain of the last days peacefully dissolving in the heat of his best friend. He could hardly believe he had managed to arrive on time.
"I'm fine Mione. I'm fine."
Caught on one another, neither noticed the tumult running on the only other one present.
oOo
At that moment Harry could have killed her.
All she had done to him, everything she had betrayed, and there she was hugging MALFOY. As if nothing had changed, save the one she was processing her love to.
Granger looked a little more mature, a bit taller, but she had the same crazy hair, the same bright brown eyes, the same smile.
She may have looked rumpled and tired, but there weren't any major differences with the teenager he recalled.
How was she able to look in the mirror every morning, and not vomit at the treacherous rat reflected there? She had abandoned Harry, and apparently latter changed him for Malfoy. Not even knowing what she had done, had Harry thought she would sink so low.
The memories he had buried, and had half convinced himself he had forgotten, began to throb in the depths of his deepest mind, wanting to wake up.
Harry took a step back, away from both of them, and the scene that was unfolding before him. Desiring to kill, but knowing he could not. However, containing his instinct was so difficult...
Nevertheless, remembering why he had to do so, helped him maintain control. Harry Potter was ten years dead, and it was better to keep it that way.
So he forced himself to remain calm ... until the moment when the lips, fleshy and female, fell on the cheek of the slytherin.
Possessiveness burned him inside like phosphorus. His widow part launched against the bars of his will in a savage blow. The headache reverberated through his nerves like high voltage.
He took another step back.
Harry gritted his teeth, clenched his fists. His whole body tense. One desire tinting his impulses; kill her. He could feel his fangs in the flesh of his gums, wishing to surface.
'Calm down, I need to calm down.' he told himself, grabbing all that instinct, and brutally pushing it back to the dark of his mind. Psychic creature claws, tore everything in their path in his descent to the cage. Tender cerebral nerves burning in pain. But at least the desire to kill was controllable again.
He looked at Malfoy.
Jealousy, anger, hatred in his eyes. A cocktail, a bomb just waiting for the right moment to explode.
oOo
When they calmed down, and slowly left the hug ...
"Hermione, I need you to gather the council. There's something you should know."
oOo
(Ron)
Hermione had entered their room, forced him to his feet, and set him out to Dumbledore's office, before hastily leaving to warn other board members. Or so he understood. Without much explanations in the process.
It all had left a very tired Ron Weasley, in a very old pitch robe over pajamas, walking down a dimly lit corridor at midnight. And quite confused about it.
And now he also had the misfortune of meeting Snape in the hallway, obviously in his way to Dumbledore's office too.
The redhead looked at the somehow impeccably dressed potion master. Fully awake and alert, even at this hour of the night. Walking beside Ron as if instead of him, there was only air.
The urge to complain, was too much for Ron's sleepy brain.
"What is so important we have to get out of bed at this hour?" he said, morose and sulking.
Severus pursed his lips as he watched the young Wesley complain as if he still was eleven, wrapped in a horrible orange robe who he had just thrown carelessly over his pajamas. Plush slippers peeking over the edge, and hair jumping in all directions around his sleep pressed face.
The displeasure scurried down his back like a long legged centipede, raising his temper. Severus could not understand how Albus had allowed this inept into the council, much less what purpose could his opinion serve.
His black thoughts darkening further, when the redhead began to scratch, not so covertly, his ass.
Immediately he pierced his gaze from his vantage height, annoyed beyond what could be considered appropriate at that time of night. His cold black eyes, digging into the blue sleepy ones of Ron Weasley.
"Perhaps Mr. Weasley would feel better, if we had let him sleep, rather than wake him from his sweet dreams to attend a tedious meeting on the future of our lives." - Sarcasm dripped down his throat as burning like battery fluid.
Ron snapped right back.
"I didn't say that Snape!" Outrage flushing red his skin to match the color of his hair.
The quiet, dignified voice of McGonagall, cut the altercation before it could get worse, while she arrived at their side.
"Can you please not get into pointless discussions at this time, Mr. Wesley? The rest of the board must already be waiting."
The former teacher joined them at the foot of the long staircase of Gryffindor's Tower. A warm wool coat of faded amber colour, wrapping her body and her flannel nightgown. However, her hair was pulled into a perfect bun, dignified even when she was newly awakened.
The appearance of both adults, making Ron feel like a child again.
He could not help but stay quietly furious the rest of the way, to the delight of Snape, and the peace of mind of Minerva.
oOo
(Harry)
He had always known that he would return. Because somehow Hogwarts ran through his blood, and he belonged to this place almost as much as he belonged to the forest.
But not to its inhabitants.
Of all the creatures that he had meet in both places, the beings of the woods shared with him much more than the humans who lived here ever could. Although for a time he had believed something different. And the revelation still hurt.
The pain burned inside, under the psychic scar that had covered the wound, still there despite the time that had tried to erase it.
Being in the same place as those who had done so much harm to him, and in any other circumstances, he might have sought revenge.
He could almost feel the warm comfort that would have granted him, the still warm blood on his hands, it's rusty taste much sweeter than honey on his lips, and the notion of knowing that those rats no longer existed to harm anyone else.
But the pale figure walking in front of him, acted as a brake on that desire.
Malfoy.
The blond led the march through the dimly lit empty corridors. His white hood covered Malfoy's face in shadows, but his rapid pace, almost nervous, and determined, said to Harry everything he needed to know. Whatever it was he wanted to talk with the council, was tearing his nerves with steel teeth.
Much like how Harry was feeling the bite of instinct inside; Repressed anger, hatred, and desire. And the widow strumming against him at the back of his skull, from the darkness where Harry had banished him.
For now Malfoy's promise slowed him, but blood was roaring through his veins, awaiting the time they finally could be alone.
He was fulfilling their agreement. His submissive would also have to do truth of their bargain. And only the promise of later relieving all the cacophony of feelings in that pale body, was keeping his fangs covered.
Before being aware, both were already at the entrance to Dumbledore's office. The gargoyle moved away from their path with only one word from the slytherin.
The spacious office of the director at Hogwarts, had long since ceased to be the warm, golden and always candy treasured place that many students had visited during happy school days. With the war knocking at the barriers daily, the room had become, by necessity, the meeting point of the high council of the Order of the Phoenix.
Its walls occupied by maps, and shelves overflowing with books, arcane magic items, and yellowed by time scrolls, around a heavy dark wood table surrounded by upholstered thick and worn chairs.
The always-burning fireplace warmed the room. And of the old desk and the candy that had been the hallmark of the place, there was no trace, replaced by a cabinet of potions full of dark mixtures in delicate glass vials, homemade jugs and jars, labelled with rusty paper tags hand written in black ink.
The room was so different from the one he remembered, that for an instant, Harry was not sure this was the place of his memoirs. But the candles had the same old smell. And the landscape beyond the glass panels, was like an echo of the past, just beyond the violent snowstorm.
"Draco, I'm glad you're okay. Come, take a seat. The others will arrive in a bit." The somewhat raspy voice, after almost ten years of absence...
Dumbledore had been an old man when Harry had been at school, and that was then years back, but despite age, his voice rang as full of wisdom as he remembered, and the Guardian did not need to turn around to know who it was.
Hatred darkened his senses like a blanket. If there was someone who Harry wanted to behead more intensely than the rest of those wizards, that was him. Harry had confided in Albums Dumbledore more than in anyone else. He had loved the man like he would his own grandfather. Had done what he had asked. And he…
The muscles in his back tightened like ropes, but none of the other two ones present, noticed anything under the camouflage of his robe.
He turned very slowly.
oOo
Draco stepped to Dumbledore, accepting the chair offered, and taking his place at the council table amongst the high chairs, near where the former director was sitting.
Harry turned away from them, seeking refuge in the darkest corner of the room, hiding in the shadows. Where he could observe, and in turn not be observed.
Dumbledore saw the actions of both critically.
"Draco, you have not introduced me to your companion."-The quiet smile he gave, waiting for his explanation, did not fool the blond. After working at Dumbledore's service for almost a decade, he knew that was not a request, it was an order.
He glanced at the figure hidden in the shadows.
"His name is Raksa. He was the one who saved me in the Dark Forest."- Draco spoke in a unstressed and quiet voice, locking away, with all the strength of his will, his feelings.
Dumbledore saw his eyes flooded with secrets and silence. And curiosity prodded him inside.
It was in Draco's nature common to hide secrets. But his eyes had never been so guarded in his presence before. Barriers of occlumency, like walls and barbed steel.
"Draco …?"
The blond lifted a hand asking for silence.
"Raksa is here to help in the war. He is an ally, and I take responsibility for him as a wizard and as a man." A promise that no wizard would give lightly. The intrinsic magic in those words, often dangerous. "However, I request ... No, I beg you; Do not pry. If something comes up that you should know, I'll let you know."
Draco knew it was much what he asked for. A stranger in the castle could be a danger to everyone. But he was the best spy of the order, and had sacrificed so much over the last decade for them, he hoped his loyalty, and his word, will be enough. Because talking about what happened was not an option. Not now. Not ever.
Their eyes met for a moment, until the old man looked away, apparently satisfied with what he had seen in the eyes of the spy.
"As you will. If you do not want to talk about it, nobody will ask."
Relief flooded Draco, but only for the time it took for the door to open letting inside Snape, McGonagall and Ron Weasley. Even now, with years of forced camaraderie between them, Draco did not like the redhead. And with the notion that there was a spy among them, his displeasure took hues of dangerous suspicion.
And it only increased with his reception.
"So you were alive, eh? Slippery as an snake." Ron tried to be nice as he plopped down on one of the free chairs, well away from Malfoy. Ignoring the disapproving glances of Snape and McGonagall. That was all he was willing to make as an effort to welcome him. He had never liked the blonde, and truth was, it wasn't very decent to pretend otherwise.
Draco nodded, because he felt obliged to prove he had heard him, but nothing more. His attention on any possible sign of betrayal he could see in Wesley, and in Minerva's words.
"I'm glad you're well, Mr. Malfoy." McGonagall's formality might had veiled her feelings, but the affection and relief were clear in her kind brown eyes.
Draco smiled back warmly.
"Thank you, I'm glad to be back. However, I bring grave news."
Dumbledore drew himself seriously. Stopping the conversation for the moment.
"We'll hear them when we are all gathered. Black and Remus must already be arriving with Miss Granger."
oOo
(Snape)
The smell hit him just across the threshold, so strong, pure and inebriated of life that for a moment his mind went white, and he had to make a conscious effort of will to pull the threads of his brain and continue walking. All in a fluid second that did not allow anyone to perceive the slip.
He sat where it was expected of him, facing his nephew, watching him with inscrutable eyes. He did not need to find out who it belonged to that essence.
Although more than thirty years had passed since he had last found that perfume, his instinct could not forget it.
The quasi golden aroma, sticky as honey, of a pregnant member of his race.
And somehow, although it didn't seem possible, close, only a few meters away, the spicy smell of a male protecting his submissive.
Draco had been lost in the Forbidden Forest ...
'Draco, what have you done?'
oOo
Remus, Sirius, and Hermione gave the password to the gargoyle and climbed the spiral staircase to the office. It had taken longer to raise Remus, who had just returned from a mission and had been sleeping in exhaustion. But finally all three made it to the meeting with more or less hurry.
The two men had hardly had time to put on pants and shirt, Sirius's hair looked rumbled, and Remus tried to clear the sleep from his brain by rubbing his eyes.
"Oh, you have arrived. Sit down, please. Remus, sorry you have to postpone your rest. I know you must be exhausted." Dumbledore spoke with a smile as they took their places.
oOo
Sirius gave a nod of welcome and pride to his cousin.
All the tough warrior allowed himself in showing affection since the death of his nephew, Harry. The pain had hardened the cheerful old marauder, and now very few could be counted among those who were able to stand up to the seasoned sorcerer. Far fewer were those who had his affection.
Draco was one of the selected few who he still cared about, and the spy shared the feeling completely. But both were men of masks, that kept their feelings with zeal, and with so many people around, they silenced the euphoria of knowing that they were alive, keeping emotion for when they were alone.
Contenting themselves with an exchange of greetings, and gazes.
Remus however was another matter. Tonks influenced him with her open and funny character. Everyone expected he would embrace the blond. But instead, he hardly dared to give him a couple of slaps on the shoulder before sitting a few of seats at his right, with total calm.
Perhaps he was really too tired, but Hermione felt there was something more.
Dumbledore's voice mowed the strange moment, ushering in the conclave.
"Now that we're all together. It should be noted first, we have a guest."- he looked toward the figure hidden in the shadows of the back of the room, away from all others. "The man who is with us today saved Draco in the Dark Forest, and has come to assist us in the war. His name is Raksa." He looked around at all the present ones, who gazed with varying degrees of curiosity to the unknown man. Then, he dipped his next words in seriousness. "That's all that will be discussed at this table, about him. It is a matter that only concerns both men involved, and I ask that you abstain from delving deeper into the issue."
Ron snorted in disbelief, but a look of Mione was enough to silence him. The rest accepted the matter with strangeness, but ready to leave it alone ...
Severus's gaze hardened, and he made sure to drill the werewolf with it, his eyes like black daggers of mirror. The message clear as water; If you say something about the state Draco is in, I will rip your throat.
oOo
(Remus)
Remus felt it the second he stepped on the threshold. The whiff wrapped and snaked around him, like wisps of jam and honey.
The almost smothering aroma of a pregnant creature.
Sweet, attractive, warm ... His eyes instantly sought the owner of the perfume ... and he found Draco. The shock left him speechless, just the instant it took for the smell of the dominant to hit him too; Tangy as the smoke embers of a campfire. A warning for anyone who dared touch that what belonged to him.
But ... there was something familiar about all this. He followed the thread of his memory, however among its moldings and ledges there was nothing that had this almost violent smell. He traced the source with his pupils, a figure hidden in the shadows of the far corner of the room.
The movement of Hermione and Sirius sitting, returned his attention to the present, but only precariously.
He faltered.
Remus wasn't sure what to do. But in any case, he decided not to ask in front of so many people. He sat down after greeting Draco, because not doing so would have been too strange. But he was careful not to make too much physical contact with the young blonde, in care of what the dominant might feel like a transgression on his privileges.
What left him even more perplexed, was the warning look Snape gave him when sitting. Did that mean that Severus knew what was happening?
oOo
(Draco)
Draco instantly noticed the strange behavior of the former affable professor ... and the realization lighted his skull, like post images after a very strong light.
How could he have forgotten Remus's sharp smell sense? Throughout the hurricane of what happened, he had not contemplated the very real possibility of Lupin perceiving the truth. And now, his only consolation was to see that the werewolf seemed willing to wait to speak alone.
Tension grew in his chest. And his barriers of will that had remained standing, trembled.
oOo
(Harry)
In the corner, wrapped by the refuge of the shadows, Harry saw all this, and silently cursed himself for not having thought of the lupine before coming here. Now Remus knew. Maybe not what they were, but what they meant to each other, and what Malfoy kept in his breast.
Snape's gaze ... he had also seen his eyes, icy cold and knowing. But the former Potions master was human, and could not know exactly what he was sensing. Although with Snape he was never sure. He was too strange, too circumspect.
He would have to be monitored.
Lupin, however, had to be neutralized immediately. Because if the wizards learned what they were; a pair of a species thought to be extinct, so powerful, so desired, that had been hunted to annihilation. He had no doubt what would happen.
Perhaps they would live a couple of years more, enough to bring to the world some offspring that they could keep, then they would be on the shelves of some potions master as pieces well-labeled in jars.
And with them the fate of the Dark Forest.
His only asset, that the werewolf, never before had found the essence of a widow. He could not know what kind of creatures they were. Just that they were a couple and that the submissive was expecting.
Things that any magical being will feel.
Hopefully, perhaps he will leave them alone. Especially as it was apparent he cared for Malfoy. But if necessary ... Harry would kill him.
The arachnid did not even need to think about it.
For the one who had once been like a second father, he bore rancor now, borne of his painful betrayal.
He hided a little more in the shadows, watching all those who deserve to die, and carefully placating his desires.
He found that after the first encounter with Granger, and the few minutes ago one with Dumbledore, the work of repression was getting easier. There was only one he had not gazed at more than an instant, and that he barely had the strength to hate, so great was still the pain of his abandonment.
His godfather, the only father she had ever known; Sirius Black.
Harry caught the pain and locked it behind walls of indifference, and years of life as a guardian. Fixing his attention, on the only figure of the room, that could make him feel more than abhorrence; Malfoy.
The primary desire of the spider, hit the bars that kept his instinct in check, offering something more pleasant to contemplate.
oOo
(Draco)
Draco took a deep breath. All eyes fell upon him, and he returned their gaze trying to ignore the anxiety in the pit of his stomach.
He could feel the eyes of Remus as a horrible burning sensation on his skin. He did not want to answer his questions. And he prayed in silence that Lupin will shut up, at least until the reunion was finished.
Draco stood up from his chair, face serene, feelings well hidden.
"You -all know that I have been discovered as a spy, and the Death Eaters followed me into the dark forest."
Ron snorted. Mione gave him a look. But nobody else evinced any interest in the redhead's reaction
The blonde's expression hardened, looking as strong and clear as bulletproof glass.
"What you don't know is that it was not for my carelessness I was discovered." Surprise made itself known around the table, with the sole exception of two impassive figures, Snape, and Black. "Someone at this table is a traitor." His words chilled the audience. Immediately chaos erupted.
"That is not possible! Do not try to blame someone else for your mistakes, Malfoy!"
"A spy among us?"
"Ronal shut up! You don't even know …"
"Could there be a mistake?"
Dumbledore stood up.
"Enough, be quiet." All fell silent before the leader of light. The old man turned to the blond, his eyes suddenly much more tired. "Are you sure Draco? It's a very serious accusation to make."
Draco sighed, suddenly exhausted as well.
"I wish I could say otherwise, but that's the truth."
Gazes met around the table. Who…?
"Severus, There is still some veritaserum in our pantries?"
The potions master denied at the words of the leader of light.
"No, there none left. If I had the ingredients I could make more, but our reserves are almost exhausted."
It was true.
The dark forest, the only source of ingredients actually accessible to the rebels, remaining a decade closed now. And getting the valuable substances through smugglers was not easy, or cheap. They could rarely afford to buy a small percentage of everything that was needed. Food was much more important.
"What do we do now then?" Soft, concerned, voiced Mione.
The director, his expression serious, made a decision.
"All right, tonight is too late. Let's go back to bed, and tomorrow I will meet with you for a session of legilimency."
Nobody liked the idea of allowing their minds to be invaded. But they knew there was no other way of making sure.
"And I'm sorry to resort to this, but until we know who the spy is, you will have to remain in your rooms. I will ask the house elves to stay with you to make sure."
Ron opened his mouth, but for once had the sense not to say anything.
McGonagall nodded.
"Albus, please call the elves so we can return to our beds."
oOo
Soon the room began to empty, every wizard in hand with an elf.
Remus approached Draco, trying to reach him without attracting attention.
The blonde felt exhausted.
The trip through the storm, the tension, and everything that happened the last few days was taking its toll. And now that he had finally managed to give the message, he just wanted to get to his room and sleep for a few hours.
The problem was he could not. He did not need to look to know that Lupin was at his side.
"Remus, not now." He mumbled finally looking back at him. His pupils on the verge of appeal.
The Wolfman didn't let it slide, obvious concern on his face. He spoke in whispers too, so the rest would not hear them.
"Draco, you're not right. And this man who has come with you …"
"Stop. At least let me rest this night." Draco swallowed. He really did not want to talk about it. Not now. No never. And he needed time, time to think what lies he would tell.
"Draco …" Remus continued, unsure.
"Please."
Only the despair in his voice, and how quickly their turn to leave was approaching, made Remus nod in the end.
"Okay. We will speak in the morning."
"Thank you." The Slytherin muttered, stepping forward to leave in the company of the next elf. Ignoring the concern in the eyes of the lupine. Eager to get away from him as soon as possible.
Remus looked at the strange man, the dominant who had come with Draco. Somehow he seemed familiar ... And something told him that his presence here was something very, very, bad.
Raksa was already waiting at the door .
Snape did not approach. He decided to wait until they could talk alone.
oOo
"Prixi will stay at the door, if the masters want to go out."
The small house elf, set to wait in front of the thick wooden door, of exquisitely wrought metal bands were carved serpents devoured each other, like a soldier in the midst of an important mission.
Draco nodded vaguely, not really paying attention, and closed the door leaving the creature out.
The room was very small. With so many refugees living in Hogwarts, space and resources were very limited. The door was all the luxurie in it. But Draco had never cared too much.
It was rare that he come here to sleep with his work as a spy. And things he could have asked for, will be better employed by any of the families of the castle.
It was located near the old Slytherin dorms. And his only window faced the lake bottom; A landscape of dark waters streaked with strange creatures, and vegetation bobbing like ghosts in the deeps. It's dead greenish luminesce, sliding down the furniture and walls.
A simple covered with thick blankets bed, a closet in one corner, a tiny desk, insufficient for all papers and books obsessively ordered upon him, and a chair in danger of losing one of its legs, were all the furniture.
Harry watched the space that the next several months would be their nest; Wet, uncomfortable and small. Insufficient for his spider shape.
He didn't like to feel so constrained. But his attention to such menial things lasted but a second, the second he saw they were alone. His instincts roared. The grip of the human side began to slacken.
Draco was facing back from the black widow, staring at the cracks in the wood on the door. Perhaps if he looked hard enough, the monster would disappear from his room.
"Malfoy." The hiss ran up his back with the sickening touch of a slug, and tied to memories he wanted to forget.
He swallowed, and closed his eyes. Yet, did not turn.
"Yes?"
Harry noticed the tiny tremor in the one word. And the anxiety inside him grew to be a devouring beast. All the pain, tension, hatred accumulated in a whirlwind of claws and fangs, eager to dig into white and creamy meat.
His voice came loaded with the hiss of the monster. "We have a deal, remember?"
Draco took a breath almost convulsively. He felt exhausted, drained of all his strength. He had no energy left for this.
"Now?" Please leave me alone tonight Let me rest tonight. He thought. But even in his internal begin, he knew there was no escape.
"Now." The hiss almost a growl.
Harry felt his breathing quicken. His chest expanding and contracting with the pace of the game.
Still he managed to keep the straps like steel cables over his spider. This would be their first time. Their first encounter without the hustle and effort to dominate the other. And he wanted to taste it. Although he knew the instinct would not be controlled much longer.
Draco finally opened his eyes. He turned slowly. The monster was only a couple of meters away. He blinked catching any sign of weakness in his eyes.
"Okay." A deal was a deal. And he needed the help of the creature in the war that was developing. Someone with immunity to magic, and the ability to move freely through the woods, was an invaluable resource.
He took a deep breath, trying to heal the cracks of his will before the start. "... It's okay." repeated softly. Just a tired whisper. He tangled his fingers in the thick white coat brooches, feeling awkward and numb while he unbuttoned them.
Draco dropped the item on the floor. He didn't think he could have put the fabric away without revealing any tremor. Instead he concentrated on his boots, taking them off, and abandoning them between the white snowcat fur. The sweater slipped over his head almost against his will, revealing the white and athletic extension of his torso and arms.
The widow watched him through the shadows of his hood. He could feel the intensity of his gaze, like a hot palm, pressing on his skin. He clutched the top button of his pants. His fingers began to shake. He wore nothing underneath. Draco kept his chin up, and the firm stance. But his eyes were like that of madmen, wide with terror.
Harry felt his fangs pierce the soft flesh of his gums, now exposed. Malfoy was so nervous that his fear was like a cloying perfume in the air. He could smell it, and taste it, and that only inflamed his desire. A low growl came from the bottom of his chest.
Pants slipped down Draco's long legs and fell to the ground. The touch of the fabric did nothing more than give him nausea.
He swallowed. Arms tense at his sides. Forcing himself to show his nakedness. Desiring to end it as soon as possible. He was too tired for this.
"Come." Raksa called. The hand that was extended for him, had claws and was covered with black chitin. Draco killed the shudder that climbed his epidermis, but felt his mouth dry, and his body icy.
Draco came to the monster.
His bare feet barely made any noise on the stone. The only sound he could hear, was that of his heart pumping madly.
Memories of the previous violation touched his mind with skeletal fingers, and for a moment, just a moment, he wanted to run. However, the sense of duty was stronger than the fear, and desire to protect his loved ones acted as chains which he could not escape. Anchoring him to this nightmare, and the wishes of the monster in front of him.
The Guardian grabbed his arm, pulling him closer. Touching his naked body, to his still dressed one. Feeling the spy wince and fight to contain his terror.
Harry was static, vibrant with such a powerful desire, he could barely contain it.
But still he wanted something more before being dominated by instinct. His human side wanted to humiliate, to make suffer, the enemy of his childhood, someone to dump-on, all the rage, pain and hatred of betrayal he was just forced to relive. Malfoy had to pay, if only a little, for it.
His hand slipped from the arm of the blond to his hip, and there, in a caress reached his belly covered in delicate, still tender, pink scars.
Right under his palm, between folds and shreds of flesh and nerves, was growing his seed.
The notion increased the desire tuning through him, marring his touch with a lick of possessiveness. Anger and desire, struggled to be heard above the other, and the cacophony of his mind.
"On your knees."
That phrase was enough.
Enough to wake Draco. All fatigue, exhaustion, and fear, which had been choking him, broke upon awakening his pride, will, and mind. His almost lifeless eyes flashed with anger.
"No." The word came out frozen, if it would have been liquid, it would have come out of his throat as powder ice.
Harry's claws stopped on the skin they had been stroking, completely taken by surprise. And yet to see the fire back into the steel gray eyes, grabbed something inside him.
"No?" he muttered. The incredulous tone, tinged with passion. Inside he knew that this was the submissive he wanted; Proud, unruly, passionate.
The spy raised his chin proudly, and the light of the lake slipped through his silver hair like a poisonous green halo.
"No." he repeated sharpening his gaze, his shoulders straight, ready to make war. "The deal was you could fuck me." The words spoken on the hardest and most brutal way, making clear that they did not affect him. Harry felt himself purr. "No that I would be your slave, Raksa. So either you get down to it, or leave me be." His tone like a steel knife. Withering, cutting, and poisonously sweet.
The sudden attack of Draco, raised Harry's instinct as nothing else could have.
He smiled.
"I think it just." The sensuous hiss stroked Draco's lips a second before his lips came into contact with the arachnid's. A touch, just a moist meeting of planes, lips firmly closed, a warm cares that lasted only a moment.
Harry pulled his hood of. His spidery part was finally on play, but his human side still prevailed, and the changes in his face were not so extreme.
Draco looked up when their mouths separated. The green irises that met his were almost human, black skin, plagued by small chitin plates around the eyes and strong jaw, spider fangs protruded between the fleshy lips, crazy black hair that seemed to have been bitten, rather than cut, framed the strange face.
Never before had the monster looked so human.
The chitin chips gleamed in the light, like black sparks. And the curiosity led him to raise his hand unconsciously, until his fingers were a breath away from touching the skin of the cheekbone of the other.
"Go on." Raksa's voice trailed his fingers the last millimeter. The skin was slightly rough, but the chitin was smooth as a polished metal surface. He had not noticed before.
Their eyes caught for a moment. Something called them on the other.
Draco inhaled sharply and wanted to step away, put distance between them, but Harry was faster, taking his arm.
"¡BOUMMMM !"
The ground shook violently. Harry stumbled on the wave that vibrated through the stone as an earthquake, and fell to the ground with a groan, collapsed sideways, dragging Malfoy with him.
"What…?!"
To be continue