Draco had not been helpful in the slightest.
Well, Harry took that back. Draco wasn't completely pointless when he had called him.
"Potter, why is it always you?" Draco had asked exasperated.
Harry snorted. "You say that like I haven't already asked that myself. Now tell me. Is all of Paris on drugs or is the wizarding world here in France just bizarre?"
Harry could hear shuffling from Draco's side of the phone before the posh git let out a heavy sigh. "No, and yes."
Rolling his eyes didn't seem sufficient enough when the prat couldn't even see him. "Care to elaborate?"
"I should have expected that sending you to France even if it was only for 48 hours, would have consequences. You have to understand Harry that when the wizarding world separated from the muggles hundreds of years ago, that the separation wasn't a clean and neat operation. It was messy, like muggle world war messy. Many didn't want to separate from the muggles and for others, namely purebloods, it cemented their beliefs that wizards were superior."
"Thanks for the history lesson, but where does this French 'Otherworld' fit in?" Harry sighed exhausted.
Draco went quiet for a moment. "The best explanation I have is that they are the in-between. They are known to but looked down upon by the wizarding world. They are outcasts. Those who wouldn't submit to wizarding law or the wizards being in charge at all."
"Mmm having met one of these so-called dragons, I am not surprised. Although no one here seems to recognize me as a wizard. They keep calling me a Guardian and Wyvern's Mate." Harry mused mostly to himself, but he heard Draco go silent on his end. "Draco? Hello?"
"Potter. I suspect the fates hate you." His tone sounded tired.
Harry couldn't help himself but to laugh. "Yes. I am aware. Why do you suddenly think so?"
"There are some things I can't tell you. You'll have to learn for yourself. For what it matters, I am sorry." Then the little prick hung up before Harry could say or ask anything else.
Unhelpful.
And now Harry sat in G&T trying to not stand out.
"And then I said to her, Rachel, you're out of your ever-lovin' mind. There's no way in h-e-double-tooth-picks you'd find me hookin' up with a faery, especially one of the Unseelie court, no matter how well hung he is. Ya just never know with them, do ya? I heard about a witch in Quebec who crossed one of the Unseelie princes, and she ended up with three breasts. Can you imagine what she goes through trying to find a bra that fits?"
Harry paused, not surprised by the words per se, but by the Texan drawl that spoke them. Soft, rather eerie music pulsed with an almost palpable beat, music as smoky as the air that filled the club. Harry peered through the depths to the bar, a long U-shaped wooden structure that sat in the center of the room. Nearest to him was a perfectly normal-looking woman in jeans and a t-shirt chatting with a tall blonde in a slinky black dress. Harry guesses that, unlike the wizarding world, it would be much harder to notice who is part of this 'Otherworld'. His eyes swept the entirety of the club. There weren't any obvious creatures, no one in old-fashioned wizarding wear, and not a lick of obvious magic in sight. Harry didn't know what to expect from Goety and Theurgy Club, but it wasn't the normalcy usually only found in the muggle world, this could have been any dark muggle dance club and no one would know otherwise.
Harry's eyes drifted back to the waitress as she approached the table he sat at. He nodded his thanks when she handed him a small menu.
"You will please to read the rules. English is on the behind," the waitress said in a heavy French accent.
"Rules?" Harry wondered aloud before flipping the menu over to see the small list of rules outlined in English.
G & T IS A NEUTRAL GROUND.
PLEASE FOLLOW THE RULES:
No Summoning Minions of Any Form, Persuasion, or Origin.
No Wards Are To Be Drawn Within The Club, Either Protective or Otherwise.
Glamours Are Strictly Prohibited. No Exceptions Will Be Allowed.
Patrons Who Squash Imps Will Please Scrape Up The Mess and Deposit The Remains In The Imp Bucket.
BEINGS AND ENTITIES WHO DISREGARD THE RULES WILL BE SUMMARILY DEALT WITH BY THE VENEDIGER.
"Okay, I uh, agree?" Harry said hesitantly. But that was apparently what the waitress had wanted since she nodded before heading back toward the bar.
Harry sat back, leaning against the chair as he let his mind ruminate over everything he had learned in the last day-ish of being in France. He wasn't sure how this 'Otherworld' would react to him being a wizard if they were outcasts of the magical society. Plus they seemed way more focused on other traits that he couldn't confirm or deny being true yet. His best bet was to keep his wizarding magic to the absolute minimum while dealing with these people, Harry didn't need to be making any more enemies at this point. So demons and sexy dragon-shifting humans were probably real. After learning about wizardry and magic at the age of eleven, Harry would like to say he was a pretty open-minded and adaptable person. How much could something phase him after all the things he had seen on the magical side of the world? Not much, really. Although the whole demon thing was still tripping Harry up a little.
"I am open-minded. I am confident. I am in control-"
"Are you? How very nice for you. I've never been in control. I've found the world is just so much nicer if you let it go by without bothering too much about it." A young woman with masses of waist-length curly blonde hair stopped in front of Harry, her blue eyes twinkling with delight. "Did I startle you? I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to, but I heard you speaking English, you see, and it's rare we see any Englishmen in G&T, let alone an Englishman who is also a Guardian, so I thought I would say hullo. Hullo!"
"Hullo," Harry said. "You from the UK as well?"
"Yes, Wales specifically, but I don't speak any Welsh, unfortunately. May I?" She gestured to the seat across from Harry.
"Yes, sorry. Please do."
She sat, arranging her diaphanous sea-green skirt carefully around her as she smiled a nice pleasant smile. Harry couldn't help but wonder what she was and how she fit into this 'Otherworld'.
"My name is Ophelia. Now, don't laugh, Mum was a Shakespearean scholar."
Harry smiled back, willing himself to be friendly and not suspicious. "I think Ophelia is a pretty name. One of my best friends also has a Shakespearean name. I'm Harry, by the way."
"Hullo Harry. As for the name, it could be worse, my sister is named Perdita. That's her over there talking to the Venediger. You look a bit lost though. Is this your first time?"
"In France, in Paris, and in this club, yes." Harry chuckled in a self-deprecating way. "Is it very obvious?"
"Only when you smile," She answered. "Well what can I tell you about G and T? You've read the rules, so you know this is neutral ground. Practitioners of both the light and dark powers are welcome here because everyone agrees to put their differences aside while in the club. It really is quite a pleasant place, although you have to watch out for the satyrs after they've had a few drinks. They get a bit grabby."
"Grabby?" Harry asked wondering if that meant what he thought it meant.
Ophelia wiggled her hands in a recognizable boob-grabbing motion. "Grabby. Once they start drinking they could care less if you are male or female. Other than them, the rest of the regular crowd is fairly well-behaved. We have to be, the Venediger would never allow a breach of the rules."
"The Venediger?"
"You are new, aren't you? The Venediger is the most powerful mage in France. He's a tyrant, really. It's not right for one man to have so much power, but there's not much any of us could do about it. The word Venediger is actually German, I think it means 'man from Venice,' not that Albert is Venetian, but he clings to the old ways. Albert Camus is his name, although most of us just call him the Venediger. So much easier to remember, you see."
Harry didn't see, but Harry could bullshit with the best of them usually. He did highly doubt that the Venediger was a real mage or magic user.
Ophelia evidently saw Harry's confusion though, because she just gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "Just remember that he's the one person in all of France with enough power to keep everyone in line. You do not want to cross him."
France was turning out to be a place filled with ominous sayings, people, and places. Harry looked curiously over at the man standing next to the woman Ophelia had pointed out as her sister. The Venediger was dressed in a long navy frock coat with matching pants and a beautifully embroidered gold vest. It was strangely elegant with a hint of old-world ensemble. He was middle-aged, probably early to mid-fifties, going bald with his shoulder-length black hair pulled back in a ponytail. He looked polished and moderately narcissistic, not Malfoy level but not many were able to reach that, but he certainly did not look like the most powerful mage in France. Harry was actually pretty confident that Albert Camus was not the most powerful mage in France if one wasn't excluding the wizarding world.
"So where is your portal?"
"Oh. Um. Well, I am portal-less." Ophelia's eyes opened wide in stark surprise giving Harry another hint that he really needed to figure out what these people were talking about. "For the moment," Harry quickly added, hoping that would maybe cover up some of his blunders. What were these portals everyone kept mentioning? Where did they lead to? Why was Harry suddenly needing to be in charge of one?
Her eyebrows resumed their previous position. "Closed it did you? You must be a very powerful Guardian if you can close a portal to Abaddon."
"Um actually, I really am just portal-less-"
"Well, that was interesting. Feelie, you're not going to believe what the V told me about that imp outbreak in Versailles." A woman who was clearly Ophelia's identical twin, but with shorter hair, grabbed a nearby chair and swung it around to the table Harry and Ophelia were sitting at. The woman set down her glass of white wine and flashed a bright smile that felt somehow like a lie to Harry. "Hello, I'm Perdita. You're a Guardian? Pleased to meet you."
"This is Harry, Perdy. He's British, and he closed up a portal!"
Perdita looked over the rim of her wineglass with genuine astonishment. "You didn't! Goddess above! I don't think we've ever met a Guardian of your sort of caliber."
Harry was really starting to dislike these two.
"Well, I can guarantee you have never met someone like me. But as I was explaining to your lovely sister, I am portal-less. I have not closed a portal." Harry was careful to keep his tone polite, but more insistent this time.
Before either of the sisters could respond a tall, handsome, green-eyed dragon thief walked into the club. Harry stood up quickly, his eyes locked on Drake, waving the waitress away from trying to take his order. "He is going to regret messing me! I need a new pair of dragonhide boots anyway." Harry growled.
"Who?" both Ophelia and Perdita asked, craning their heads to see who Harry was glaring at.
"A bloody nasty thief who thinks his good looks will save him from my wrath." Harry's teeth clenched together, not taking his focus off of the dragon.
"Drake Viero?" Ophelia asked, her eyes huge. Both sisters attempted to grab Harry as he passed them, but Harry hadn't been the youngest seeker in a century for nothing.
"Wait! Harry, you don't want to mess with him. He's bad news, very bad news. He's the green dragon's wyvern you know?" Perdita said as she reached to grab him again, but Harry wasn't having it.
"Oh, I'm aware. But he definitely doesn't scare me." Harry gave the sisters his own dangerous half-smile.
"But what do you want with him?" Ophelia asked in a hushed whisper.
"He stole something of mine. I'm going to make him give it back." Just like Amelie had told him, neither of the sisters seemed surprised that Drake had stolen something from him. But both of their eyes seemed to nearly bulge out of their heads as Harry stormed off across the club and to the far curve of the bar when Drake stood with his back to Harry chatting with two red-headed men that could have passed as Weasley cousins.
"Well if it isn't Puff the Magic Dragon." Harry purred from behind Drake. His voice hadn't been loud, but the entire club seemed to have fallen silent as soon as the words left his mouth, even the music went quiet.
Drake's shoulders stiffened at Harry's words. He slowly turned around, his eyes shining with a brilliant green light in the smoky darkness of the club. Harry took a step forward and poked the attractive man in the chest. "You have something of mine, Drake , and I want it back. Now."
"Hadrian." Drake's voice was as lovely as he remembered, deep and rich, like velvet caressing his skin. "I had not expected to see you here."
Harry sneered and let out a disgusted noise that would have made both Draco and Rene proud. Beautiful man or not, Harry was not to be messed with. "I'm sure you didn't. I want my aquamanile back."
Drake's eyes narrowed as his nostrils flared. The air around the man….dragon…man-dragon seemed to grow thicker, an air of danger so palpable Harry could nearly taste it on his tongue. While the people surrounding them moved away, feeling the terrifying aura building around Drake, Harry remained where he was, unimpressed. He had faced Voldemort, this was nothing.
Drake's voice remained smooth and neutral, but there was a warning in the dark depths of his eyes. "You are a very good actor. I actually believed your act earlier. I shall not make that mistake again."
Harry lifted his chin, not backing down, even knowing he probably should have, but he was a Gryffindor for a reason. "It wasn't an act. I've had a very informative day. I've learned about demons, dragons, Guardians, and the 'Otherworld' in general, but that is irrelevant. I want my dragon back, Drake. We both know you have it. So does the police, for that matter. I would be happy to give them a call to tell them where you are if you do not want to cooperate with me."
A smile flirted with his lips. His very dangerous and attractive lips. He might be a dragon given human form and he might instill fear into other people, but damn he was definitely Harry's type otherwise. Maybe he should take up Hermione's offer of finding a mind healer?
"Are you by any chance threatening me?" Drake seemed amused now.
"Only if you intend on making things hard." Harry drawled out.
Drake's gaze raked over Harry's very form-fitting slacks. " Things are already hard, sweetheart."
Harry's nose wrinkled at the pet name at the same time as his insides wanted to melt from the growled double entendre. He was no one's sweetheart, but Drake could talk to him in that tone of voice all he wanted.
"I doubt you'll die from hauling a little wood," Harry said sweetly. "Let's get back to the topic at hand. You have my dragon. I want it back."
"I am immortal, Harry. I cannot die. You, however, are refreshingly mortal." As he spoke, his fingers slid around Harry's neck until his hand was gripping him in a hold that was borderline strangling. Kinky.
The silence in the club seemed to grow thicker.
"You can huff and puff and breathe fire on me all you want Drake," Harry said, his voice hoarse as Drake's fingers slowly squeezed the air from his windpipe, but Harry kept his gaze firm on Drake's. "But nothing is truly immortal. Everything can die and I am not afraid of you."
"No? We shall see about that shall we?" Drake moved closer, Harry's brain yelling at him to just stun the bastard and get it over with, but he stood his ground as Drake pulled Harry closer to him. Steel-like arms locked behind Harry as Drake's mouth quickly swooped down and claimed Harry's.
One part of Harry's mind protested being kissed in such a way in front of a bar full of strangers. The other hornier part of Harry's brain, that won in the end, wanted more of the dragon than just his tongue down his throat. And then suddenly Harry got to learn the true relationship between a dragon and his fire. Heat burst through the second Drake's tongue slid alongside Harry's tongue. Flames of desire scorched Harry's insides, licking along his skin, and starting infernos within him.
Pinpricks of sweat formed along his brow and up his spine even with the cooling charms Harry had cast on himself earlier, Drake seemed to have caused a fever to spike and consume Harry. Wrapping him in a searing cocoon of fire that stripped the air from his lungs. Drake growled into Harry's mouth and sucked hard on his tongue and the heat that had swept through Harry started to boil his blood. It felt like his flesh had caught fire and Harry could have sworn he could see smoke rising from his body from the corner of his eye.
An incandescent shimmer in the dark green eyes staring into Harry's obscured his vision. Harry thought for a moment he might be dying, burning from the inside out, Drake's fire setting every atom in his body alight.
Just as Harry knew he was going to literally burst into flames, a single black sleek door within Harry's mindscape opened, a door that Harry had never seen within his mindscape before. When the door opened Harry suddenly was able to leash the fire, control it, and change it from a destructive element that was meant to consume him into something that added fuel to the desire that flared between them. Harry turned that fire back on Drake and began to kiss the dragon in return, reveling in a power so different from his wizarding magic. Drake jerked in surprise but didn't stop kissing Harry.
Everyone in the club was still silently watching them, but that didn't deter Harry from pressing against Drake's body, rolling his hips in a way he knew would drive the dragon crazy.
Harry wanted him. Wanted all of him. His fire, his body, and his soul. Harry imagined that if Drake hadn't the strength to pull away from Harry when he did that Harry might have consumed him. He brazenly stayed staring into Drake's eyes, seeing the flickers of their shared fire in his emerald depths mingled with something that looked very much like surprise and then turned into speculation.
Slowly the fire that Drake had started within Harry dwindled to a comforting simmer.
"I believe that round goes to you," Drake said softly, his voice thrumming through Harry, threatening to stir the newly banked embers.
Harry untangled his fingers from where they had slid into Drake's hair and unwound himself from the dragon's body, taking half a step back. "Maybe you'll think twice about messing with me again." He said in his own husky tone.
The man Ophelia had named as the Venediger appeared at Harry's elbow causing Harry to turn and look at the man. The Venediger didn't look like the tyrant sort, as the sisters had claimed, nor particularly powerful. But then again neither had Tom Riddle prior to losing his sanity and looks. The Venediger though was definitely self-assured, confident, and arrogant, but a tyrant? Hardly.
"Drake, you will do me the honor of introducing me to your new companion." It wasn't a question; it was a command and with it, a small wave of the man's power tried to wash over Harry. But while Harry would never boast of it himself, Harry was a very powerful wizard, so he was unfazed by the lash out of power. The man could play at being a tyrant all he wanted, Harry could best him any day of the week.
With the Venediger's words, everyone in G & T returned to what they had been doing before, the music resumed and conversation flowed. Waitresses floated through the crowd with trays of drinks and food. The wave of people swelled around them again, leaving them an island of three.
"Hadrian, may I present Albert Camus, better known to the immortal community as the Venediger. Hadrian is newly arrived in Paris."
The Venediger made an odd sort of formal bow over the hand Harry had reluctantly held out. "I bid you welcome. It is a distinct pleasure to meet you, Hadrian. It is not often my humble premises are graced by a wyvern's mate, especially not one who is a Guardian."
Harry really needed to learn why and how all these people came to the same conclusions when meeting him.
"I am not anyone's mate, especially not Drake's, bloody manipulative thief that he is." Harry snapped out, getting tired of people assuming things about him.
"You withstood the dragon's kiss," the Venediger said mildly, but as his pale grey eyes settled on Harry, he could see a danger that lay within them. Still didn't make the man a tyrant though. His aura was harsh, unrefined, one might call it crueler than others but Harry knew it was just from a lack of experience and talent on the man's part. "Only a mate could do that. It is clear to everyone what you are."
"I'm glad everyone seems to think they knew what's going on, because while I may not know much about the 'Otherworld', I know that most of you cannot even begin to understand who or what I am."
The Venediger smiles another dangerous smile before making another little bow. "As I said, you are welcome at Goety and Theurgy. I am in your debt for providing my patrons with such an entertaining show. It has been a very long time since we've had the opportunity of seeing a wyvern claim his mate."
That sounded dirtier than the little snogging session that had occurred between Harry and Drake, but Harry was also tired of arguing with these people.
Harry turned to look at Drake after the Venediger had moved on to bother other people within the club. Drake was staring at Harry with a puzzled expression. His brows pulled together in a little frown. "You are telling the truth. You truly do not understand who you are."
"On the contrary, I know exactly who I am. It's you guys who seem to be confused. I am also now a robbery victim and a murder suspect thanks to you. Since you are responsible for both situations, you're going to fix things, starting with returning my dragon."
Drake turned back toward the bar and signaled the bartender. "What will you have to drink?"
"Dragon's blood," Harry snapped out vindictively.
Drake tipped his head as he considered Harry, his slow smile making the new embers within Harry's soul flare a little brighter. "Really? Guy, two Dragon's Bloods."
Harry felt his eye twitch as the bartender returned with two wine glasses filled with a liquid so dark red it was almost black. It suspiciously looked a lot like real blood. Harry's face must have shown something because Drake was back to smirking at him.
"It's not really blood. It's a beverage flavored by my kind."
Harry sniffed at the glass. It didn't smell like anything other than strong spiced wine. He took a small sip, holding back a gasp as liquid flames burned down his throat, quickly warming his stomach more intensely than Firewhiskey had ever accomplished. The heat from the wine felt like it was flowing through his veins to warm every point in his body. "Oh, Merlin." Harry sucked in a quick cooling breath. "What is in that?"
"You don't want to know," Drake said as he grasped Harry's elbow, steering him to an empty table in a dark corner of the club. "Now perhaps we can discuss what you desire of me."
Harry sat down with a scowl, lifting his glass again to take another slow sip of the fiery wine. "This wine better not have anything harmful in it dragonboy. I will end you if it does."
Drake grinned. "Nothing harmful."
Harry unwillingly relaxed, enjoying the roar of fire that flooded his body with every sip.
"At least, not to dragons, that is. I've never heard of a mortal drinking it and surviving."
Harry felt his eye twitch again. "Care to elaborate?"
Drake shrugged. "Just what I said."
He set the glass down carefully. "Do you mean to tell me that you would let me drink something dangerous and not warn me?"
"You asked for it. It would have been rude of me to deny you what you wanted."
"Yeah? And if I asked you to help me jump off the Eiffel Tower, would you do it?"
Drake did a cute little head tip. Harry had to fight the desire to grab his head and kiss him again.
"Are you likely to ask me to help you jump off the Eiffel Tower?"
"Well, no-"
"Then it does not matter what I would do. Why have you sought me out?"
Harry took a deep breath through his nose, trying to count to ten so he didn't kill the stupid dragon sitting across from him.
"I. Want. My. Dragon. Back."
"It's not yours though, is it? You told me you were just the courier delivering it to Mme. Deauxville. She is the rightful owner. What right do you have to it?"
"More than you have!" Harry growled out through clenched teeth. "As Mme. Deauxville is dead, the ownership stays with the company she bought it from until such time that either the aquamanile is given to her relatives or the money is refunded to them as inheritors of her estate. Merlin only knows why you want it."
Drake sipped his drink. "It's pretty. I like it. It's mine now. Besides which, it is the Anima di Lucifer. I cannot relinquish it to anyone who does not appreciate its true history."
Harry frowned. "The what of Lucifer?"
" Anima . It's Italian. The name means the 'blood of Lucifer.' The aquamanile is one of three objects known as the Tools of Bael."
That could mean anything or nothing, but it was starting to sound like the Deathly Hallows all over again, and Harry was positive it was those wretched objects' fault for his lack of aging. Although people during the Middle Ages were awfully fond of giving impressive dread names to innocent objects in order to increase the perceived value of the object.
Drake leaned back in his chair as he watched Harry, his fingers rubbing along the top of his wineglass. It was a strangely erotic move that had Harry wanting to reach across the table to grab those fingers and suck on them.
Harry really needed to get laid.
"What do you know about dragons?" Drake suddenly asked, drawing Harry's mind out of the gutter it had fallen into.
"Probably more than you'd expect. But I am assuming you want me to say something along the lines of them being big, scaly, four-legged magical creatures with wings and a history of terrorizing small villages until a virgin was offered up as a sacrifice."
Drake grinned. "I do miss the virgins."
Harry had the overwhelming urge to kick him.
His grin deepened, but there was something serious in his eyes. "The most important thing you should know about dragons is that they protect what is theirs. A dragon would never, under any condition, part with any of his treasure."
"Never is an awfully uncompromising word," Harry drawled with narrowed eyes. He knew that Drake wasn't going to give up the aquamanile easily, but the look in the dragon's eyes told Harry it would be a cold day in hell before he surrendered to Harry's whims.
"Not as uncompromising as I," he said, his eyes dancing with silent laughter and a dark promise.
Harry took a deep breath to lessen his almost overwhelming desire to curse Drake in his obstinate but sexy face. "While we're on the subject of pigheaded men…er dragons, whatever you are, let's have a little discussion about what you were doing at Mme. Deauxville's house. I know that story about you being with Interpol was a bunch of bull, so don't even bother trying that shite again."
"I was with Interpol, for a bit anyway. They seemed to take exception to the fact that I was using their resources to organize my rare-arts acquisition program. They couldn't prove the charges, but once you have been tarred with the brush of international thievery, it is hard to regain their trust."
"That goes without saying. Did you draw the circle of Ashtaroth?"
"Why would I want to do that?" he asked, neatly avoiding the question. "What did the police say to you?"
Harry smiled. He was on to him now. Drake used provocative questions to distract Harry whenever he wanted information from him, but two could play that game. Harry had spent quite a bit of time with Slytherins learning some of their tricks. "Not much. Did you draw the circle?"
Drake's eyes darkened. "If I did not know whether it was open or closed, is it likely I drew it? What happened to the demon that was summoned by the circle?"
"I have no idea. Despite studying a few medieval manuscripts on the subject, I am hardly a demon expert."
"You are a Guardian, even if you are untrained. It is in your nature to control and speak to demons. Surely you could feel that one had been present on the scene?"
Harry remembered the dementor-like feeling of dread that had filled the air. This led Harry to think that if demons were real and felt like that, then perhaps dementors were actually a type of demon? Something to be explored at a later date. "Maybe," he said, determined not to be distracted by Drake's questions. "If you didn't draw the circle, who did?"
His gaze flickered away from Harry's. "What makes you think I would know that?"
"Call it a hunch. Do you know who drew the circle?"
Drake shrugged and took another sip of his wine. Harry was tempted to dump his over the top of the dragon's head.
"Look I know you're all hot on this big, bad, powerful dragon kick, but this is important. The police think that I killed Mme. Deauxville, but they can't hold me because they don't have any proof that I did, and I don't have the time to wait around until they realize that I'm not guilty. I have to figure out who did kill her so I can get my passport back and go home. So would you stop playing the macho games and answer my questions? Please?"
"I do not see the advantage to me to give you what you want. Perhaps if you had something to barter for the information, I might be willing to give it to you."
Harry had to clamp his teeth together to keep from either screaming or calling him every dirty word he could think of off the top of his head. "I had a valuable antiquity, but you stole that."
"Yes," He said calmly. "What else do you have?"
Drake leered at Harry's body with a mischievous grin on his face. 'Oh, absolutely the fuck not' Harry thought to himself. But the more practical side of him, had him gritting his teeth. "I have me." Harry offered reluctantly.
Drake's eyes shifted to Harry's face before sweeping back down his body. Harry felt his blood rush faster at the thought of what Drake's hands or his mouth would feel like on his overheated skin.
"That is true," Drake said in a sexy drawl rich with innuendo. "However, I am not sure that what you offer is worth the price you ask."
Fury rose within Harry, fury like he hadn't felt in years, since the death of his godfather at the hands of Bellatrix. He knew he wasn't the most attractive of men out there, but that gave the dragon no right to be a prick. "You arrogant, conceited, egotistical, presumptuous-"
Drake's eyes glittered dangerously as he leaned forward, stopping Harry's words with the warning in his glance. "You really do not have the slightest idea of who I am, do you?"
Harry leaned forward as well until they were almost nose to nose. "I know you are a nasty little thief who stole my dragon."
Anger roared to life in Drake's eyes. Harry would swear he saw a faint curl of smoke escape out of the dragon's left nostril. "Mate or not, you go too far Hadrian."
Harry stood up and took a big swig of the Dragon's Blood, allowing its fire to give him the strength to walk away from the man he wanted to simultaneously wanted to throttle and kiss. "Fine. Be that way. You know, of course, that I am going to do whatever it takes to get my aquamanile back."
Drake inclined his head in acknowledgment. "You are free to try."
Harry gave him a sharp nod in return and started to leave.
"Hadrian," he said, stopping Harry as his voice caressed his flesh. Harry kept himself from shivering, turning his head enough to look back at Drake. He was handsome, so damned handsome just sitting there. "You do understand when I say that I will protect what is mine, I mean everything, not just treasure."
Oh yes, his meaning was crystal clear. A small voice, the voice of a small abandoned and abused child, cheered in the back of his mind at the look of possession in Drake's beautiful eyes. But Harry was used to ignoring that voice.
Harry gave Drake a disdainful look as he turned on his heel. "In your dreams, dragon boy!"