Honestly one of the weirdest and most action-packed chapters of this story! So many things happen, it's not even funny! But I hope you guys like it anyway!
Enjoy! xoxoxox
As distraught as his chest may be, Draco stood unimpressed and stoic by his parents. The flurry of redheads had taken over the couches and available seats by the fire almost as soon as Potter had shut his door, their faces showing an intense bout of self-loathing and guilt a. The Weasel and mudblood were the worst with their devastated looks. He'd never seen them so heartbroken before. It was odd, and slightly refreshing.
It was almost amusing when they began to whisper amongst each other, every once in a while eyeing the group vampires all standing by the entrance of the common room. Draco was almost tempted to snicker aloud, to point out that they could all hear what they were saying, no matter how quietly they whispered. But then again, what would be the point? He'd rather hear what they had to say about Potter.
"He said that he wasn't having anymore nightmares," Granger whispered quietly, her face pale and drawn as she stared at the door her best friend had just passed through. "He said that he was fine ... "
Well obviously he's not. Merlin, you'd think that they've been friends for five minutes rather than five years, he thought distastefully, inwardly sneering at the sniveling adults and teens who were seated. It's almost like I know more about him than they do.
"I didn't know that he was still having them," said the Weasel quietly with the most pitiful face by far, taking hold of his girlfriends small shaking hand and squeezing it delicately. "He didn't say anything about it to me, the last I'd heard about it was before the final battle."
"He's too good at hiding things," said the short metamorphmagus woman -that Draco had only recently just found out is related to him- from beside the ex-professor that always follows Potter around, her small hands cupping her delicately swollen stomach. He could easily tell that she was pregnant, it wasn't half obvious. "We probably don't know half the things that that boy goes through. You remember that Muggle woman, Rem? What she said to Harry the day he left?"
The werewolf nodded solemnly, his large scarred hand reaching to pet at the distended stomach of what Draco assumed to be his mates, swollen stomach. "Petunia. Yes. It's quite hard to forget about her when she said all of those things. Absolutely horrible."
"And just what did she do to my Harry?" Demanded the Weasley matriarch tensely. She disregarded the warning looks she got from the others and continued to stare fiercely at the couple. The looks she saw on the mated couples faces, made her hiss angrily. "Ooh, if I had it my way, that bitch of a woman would never see the light of day again. All those times that poor Harry came to us half starved and skeletal, looking like death warmed over ... " she sighed wearily, her brown eyes beginning to gather tears in the corners. "I'd never let that monster live in comfort ever again. To do those despicable things to a child, utterly monstrous!"
Draco's eyes narrowed into slits, almost losing his composure as something ticked violently in his chest. The same bloody thing that had been annoying him for ages, ever since he'd inherited the creature blood in his family. His mother had reassured him that it was normal though, so he figured he was fine.
"He forgave her," said the ex-professor softly, his scarred face indicating the level of distaste and disgust that he could never express vocally.
Draco exchanged surreptitious looks with his parents, knowing that whenever the foolish Gryffindor's would leave, Potter would be their topic of conversation. After all, it wasn't every day that one hears about the apparently despicable home treatment of the savior of the world. Draco didn't know about the others, but he would glean as much information as he can out of the only reliable source and add it to the 'Important pile' he has on Potter in his mind. This was just tinder to the future flame between Potter and himself.
"He is too kind," said the Weasley patriarch sadly, his weathered face showing nothing but pain. "It's almost as if he forgives any wrong doings against himself, but cannot let go of the pain of others."
"Either that or he hides his own pain too well," murmured a raggedly handsome Weasley, the only one of the lot that Draco could ever consider at least half handsome. "Did you see his face that time when the twins gave that whale of a kid one of their pranks? He looked like he was about to die he was so scared."
Potter... Scared? He thought dazedly, trying to recall a time where Harry Potter had even been a teensy bit afraid of something. There was nothing. Not even that time in first year when they ventured into the Forbidden Forest and that mysterious figure began to stalk them was Potter scared. In pain from his scar, yes. But not afraid.
Draco witnessed another surreptitious exchange of glances, this time between his parents and the other adults, and only barely managed to catch Blaise' himself. It was almost as if they were invisible to the Weasley's and co, a good thing mind. Blaise allowed his head to tilt in the direction of Potter's room ever so slightly, and flicked his dark eyes towards the clutch of Gryffindor's. Draco nodded back.
"But Harry's never been afraid of anything," said the Hufflepuff werewolf ignorantly, unaware of the dark looks being sent his way from the eldest Weasley's. "Not even when meeting that Hippogriff, and that beast was frightening."
Draco happened to agree on that, though he was far more equipped to battle that brute now. Bloody chicken couldn't survive one round with him now. If only the thing were around.
"There have been times where I thought he was afraid, but you're right. He's hardly afraid when his life is at stake. He only worries about others and never himself," said Granger reluctantly, though she herself seemed to be throwing the Hufflepuff werewolf daggers. "I think that that's the reason why he took down that Basilisk in the Chamber, he was afraid for the lives of others and not his own. Ginny was his primary concern."
"Well, he was bitten, 'Mione, I doubt he even thought he'd survive long enough to destroy the -" the Weasel broke off suddenly, blinking at the silently listening Slytherins as if just realizing that they were there. That didn't stop Draco's father from being glared at though. "I think it's time for bed actually. It seems that the walls have ears down here."
Granger paled significantly, an unbecoming look on her tan skin, as she noticed them. She stood from her spot on one of the love-seats and hurried to clutch at the Weasel's arm. "I think you're right, Ron, it's time for bed," she said quickly, pulling the gangly red haired teen from his seat. "Come on, it's getting late."
The Weasel stood willingly, however much he looked like he wanted to stay and fight, and was glaring over at the silent and still vampires fiercely. The others followed quickly and quietly, allowing for small glares to be aimed at the silent group as they passed. Most looked embarrassed and alarmed at having been heard talking about Potter, the ex-professor and eldest Weasley being the most alarmed. Draco surmised that they were worried, and for good reason.
He just might let slip to Potter that he was being talked about.
It was a small surprise when Molly Weasley pulled her husband to a stop in front of Draco's parents, a small and tentative smile set timidly on her lips. Draco eyed them both warily and with mild disdain, confused as to what the red haired woman was doing. The Weasley matriarch stood silent for a moment, just looking at them with those warm brown eyes as her husband stood stiffly by her side. Just when Lucius was about to snap, she spoke. "Good night," she said softly, inclining her head in a small nod.
Draco could see the surprise on his parents faces, even though no one else could, and was severely surprised himself when his mother actually nodded back, a small and true smile on her regal face. It was the most positive emotion she'd ever showed towards the Weasley's. "Good night," she replied softly. Lucius nodded back, his cold grey eyes staring into the Weasley's brown and blue ones.
Draco didn't say anything as the rest of the Weasley's passed by them, allowing the monumental moment pass and drain away with the tense atmosphere like a bath draining away water. As soon as the portrait door shut with a soft click and locked with a loud clank, Draco allowed himself to relax. That was a very rare and confusing moment for them, seeing as Malfoy's and Weasley's had been going at it and feuding with each other for a few centuries.
"What was that?" he asked cautiously as he swept away from the raised platform and headed towards the large floor to ceiling window. The water was darker and murkier down here, but it revealed so much more of the Mermaid city that the Slytherin common room couldn't see. He could even see a few Grindylow's cluttering the long sweeping plants.
"It was an offering," said Narcissa calmly, moving gracefully from the platform and joining her son in front of the window, her expensive robes swishing and sliding around her legs with a quiet hiss. "Our families have fought for many years and over many things, Dragon. When Mrs Weasley approached us with the intent to greet, and not harm, she called for a ceasefire; a truce."
"It was not unwelcome on our part, but I'm sure that she will have an argument on her hands once they are behind closed doors. If they aren't already arguing now," said Lucius with amusement, his cane clicking against the flagstone floor as he strode towards the vacated seats. He took the one closest to the fire as the others moved to settle around him, his cane resting over the arms.
"Mmm, I wonder how long it will last before one them snaps," mused Marianna Zabini with a sweet smile as she settled herself on one of the plush love-seats. She crossed her legs and settled her hands in her lap. "These Weasley's are a little bit uncontrollable, don't you think? But that rugged man with the long hair ... He is rather handsome -"
"Don't mother," groaned Blaise, seating himself rather forcefully in the seat beside his mother. "I don't think I could handle having that William as a potential stepfather. And don't you have Ricardo waiting at home for you anyway?"
Marianna smirked, her dark eyes flickering hungrily in the firelight. "Yes, but he is never home. We Zabini's are insatiable creatures of lust, Blaise. We need someone who is with us for longer than ten minutes. Ricardo is hardly worthy of my attentions if he is barely with me for five," she said sweetly, sharing a rather mischievous look with Narcissa, whom smirked and laughed.
Blaise, as well as Draco, pulled disgusted faces and sat back in their seats. Theodore looked quite interested, but kept his eyes to himself as his father rumbled a laugh beside him. Lucius smirked.
"But still, I believe these Weasley's will snap. Most likely that Ronald one, he is a firecracker ready to explode, don't you think?" Asked Marianna, pursing her lovely lips and looking from one of her old friends to the other. She could always count on her friends, no matter how Slytherin they all acted, they were there for one another. Especially now that their children were in need of guidance, each parent was needed to help them. Just the memory of what her son did today to Harry Potter, and how the boy reacted ... So many things could have gone wrong for Blaise, but she was thankful for Potter's strength now more than ever. If he hadn't have left -which she saw, but knew that hardly anyone else did- then Blaise could be dead, or the very least in the Hospital Wing.
"Yes. With each generation in the Weasley family, each son grows more and more brutish and thuggish than the previous. That Ginevra girl is a cause for alarm, first the Chamber of Secrets and who knows what else. Makes me wonder just what they're feeding them," said Lucius with a smirk that faltered when Narcissa sent him a narrowed eyed look.
Silence reigned for a moment, the slight jest and humor gone at the mention of the Chamber and that grizzly situation. If it hadn't have been for Potter, Lucius just might have been arrested, or even in Azkaban on the charge of murder. Potter and his two friends had obviously seen the diary that Lucius had given to the girl, and would no doubt have told the authorities had someone have died. It was a secret Life debt that no one had mentioned to Potter. Because even though Potter knew about Lucius' involvement, he hadn't told anyone. Neither had the other two.
Someone cleared their throat. "Well," said Lucius uncomfortably, more than willing to change the subject. "I believe that a drink is in order. Tippy!" He called.
A well cared for House-elf popped into existence to the left of Lucius' chair, its long slender hands clutched together and its large bald head bowed submissively. "Master Lucius be calling for Tippy?" he asked in a high pitched voice, his head still bowed respectfully. Lucius had obviously learned from his past mistakes and had taken to properly caring for his House-elves, he didn't need Potter to gain more of them. Dobby had been one too many.
"Yes, I would like three tumblers and a bottle of the most expensive brandy you can find," drawled Lucius, watching Narcissa as she stayed silent and didn't refuse the drink, which she was known to do. She stared into the fire with intense azure eyes that darkened and lightened with the flames. The popping of the House-elf disappearing was not enough to disturb her. "Narcissa?"
"'Cissa?" Asked Marianna quietly, catching on that something was wrong with her friend. "What is it? Is something wrong?"
Narcissa blinked the flames out of her eyes and turned to Marianna. "Yes?" She asked, unaware that her husband and her friend had been asking her questions.
Marianna frowned in concern. "Is something the matter? You look a little dazed."
"I'm alright, it's just .." Narcissa tried to say, but trailed off with a small frustrated growl. Lucius frowned and straightened in his seat, slipping his cane to the side of the seat so that he could have a quick exit if needed.
"It's just what?" He prompted her, ignoring as his son tried to catch his eye.
Narcissa was quiet for a moment, her face an impenetrable wall to the others as they tried to catch sight of an emotion, any emotion. Lucius was about to shake her and demand her to speak, regretting the fact that his wife knew how to mask her emotions just as well as he could, when she spoke. "Did anyone feel sick to their stomach witnessing the Potter boy's nightmare?" she asked lowly, her eyes focused on the floor in front of her feet. She supposed that it was her instincts as a mother that she detested the sight of a writhing child, regardless if it was Harry Potter, the supposed enemy of her husband's old Lord. Her insides had tensed and writhed along with the boy, her heart going out to him as he let out small pained cries. It had taken almost everything in her to resist going to him, to resist shushing him like she would Draco when he was younger and caring for him, when his mouth began to bleed from what she suspected was him biting his tongue.
She knew what it was like to have a dream like that, her husband had suffered the same at the hand of the Dark Lord when he had risen many years ago and recently, but she couldn't help but think that Harry's were worse. It wasn't often that she would see a child in the throes of a nightmare, as Draco had been lucky in never having one, but seeing Harry bite his tongue hard enough to have blood run down the side of his face ... it was obviously completely horrid and worse than she can imagine.
Marianna lowered her gaze from her best friend and also looked at the floor, and had to blink back tears when Blaise clutched at her smaller hand and offered his shoulder as support. "I felt it," she admitted quietly, moving to cuddle into her strong son with wet eyes.
"What does Potter have to do with this?" asked Draco contemptuously, scowling and crossing his arms across his aching chest as his mother and Lady Zabini began to cry. Sure it almost hurt every time he remembered Potter's writhing form on the ground, his pained expression and the small trail of blood that leaked from the corner of his mouth, but he wouldn't cry about it. No matter how shocking and sickening as it is. Not that he cared as a friend for Potter anyway, they were enemies. They were out to get each other, and no amount of shower sex could or would change that. Regardless if he enjoyed it more than flying his broom or impressing his father.
Narcissa ignored her son and remained quiet, allowed for the tears to come easily as she slowly lowered her emotional barriers in the presence of her husband and friends. She heard Draco make a small noise, and almost smiled when her stubborn child gave in and cradled her with his firm arms, tugging her into his broad chest and allowing her to press her face into the crook of his shoulder, where she cried. As much as her baby liked to pretend that he was an adult, he wouldn't turn her away whenever she cried.
Lucius was still seated beside the fire, watching his wife and son support one another with quiet and intense eyes. He knew what the two mothers were talking about, he had felt the paternal instincts within him stir and ache to hold the writhing boy on the floor. But as it was Potter, the son of his deceased enemy, he couldn't. Especially not within range of the Weasley's. He had been surprised and annoyed when none of the fools had even so much as bent to help the poor child, instead choosing to watch from their spots in the entrance as if watching something extraordinary and fascinating.
Lucius had at least expected the Granger girl and Weasley boy to attempt to wake Potter, and was annoyed above all about the lack of action. If Potter had been his son, he'd have been cared for by the most tender of hands and gentlest of hugs. He wouldn't have let the boy go until he was ready. There was no telling of exactly what the boy had endured, especially as the many times the Dark Lord had connected with him were sporadic and varied in attention, whether he wanted to crush the boy emotionally or psychologically.
"Why does everything always go back to Potter?" asked Draco quietly, pressing his lips to the top of his mothers head softly.
Narcissa smiled through her tears, a small laugh slipping past her lips. "That boy has been through so much Dragon, so many things have involved him that I don't think that there will be anything else that doesn't include him. If I didn't think otherwise, I would say that he is your mate," she joked through her tears, unaware of just what she was saying.
Something about 'Potter' and 'mate' being in the same sentence jolted the sensation in his chest, and he felt his breath catch in his throat. It was just a joke, right? We're not really mates .. are we? He asked himself hesitantly. He hadn't exactly been mean to Potter since his turning, had he? Even when baiting him in the showers, he hadn't properly provoked him. Sure he'd insulted his deceased parents, but he hadn't even gotten Potter to react with the usual amount of violence. And even when he had ... he'd almost ended up fucking him against the wall. He'd come so close to it. But it wasn't possible. Potter and he hate each other. There was no chance of anything, especially after what Draco had done to him in the showers and the past years. That's if he'd even wanted anything, anyway.
Which he didn't! He was adamant about that. Potter, Malfoy and mates do not go in the same sentence. Potter, Malfoy and hate do.
"What's wrong, my Dragon? Why have you gone stiff?" asked Narcissa quietly, concern in her voice as she shifted back from her comfortable position against him. "Is it something that I've said?" she asked. Her teary red eyes widened at the look on her sons face.
Lucius had noticed when Draco's shoulders stiffened, and his eyes had narrowed when he'd seen the intense look of alarm and shock on the young blonde's face. He would later swear that his heart had stopped beating for those few crucial moments when the words 'Draco', 'Potter' and 'mate' popped into his mind. He'd heard wrong, hadn't he?
"Draco? Are you alright?" asked Blaise cautiously, frowning when the blonde didn't respond. He knew something was up, he was sitting near the blonde family after all. Marianna squeezed his hand, and he glanced down at her lovely face to see her mouthing the words, 'Potter is Draco's mate' with a suspicious twinkle in her dark eyes. He himself froze. But then his mind began to catch up. Fate is definitely a twisted motherf*cker, he thought wryly, thinking of Harry and Draco together in his mind. And it couldn't be a moment too soon.
"What is it son?" asked Lucius, though he knew almost exactly what was wrong. He was resigned to the idea of having a half-blood in his family, even going so far as to accept Potter already. There was no point in trying to deny a mate, it was futile in the long-run. It was no wonder that he was already accepting Potter before, it was because his instincts could tell of a connection -regardless if he himself had had no clue- between Potter and his family. There was a reason why Narcissa felt the way she did about Potter. Why he did.
"There's a reason why I feel like my heart is in Potter's hands, isn't there?" asked Narcissa, almost reluctantly, stealing the words right out of Lucius' mind. Well, there is a reason why they're mates.
Draco swallowed loudly. "No. No, I don't think there is," he said forcefully, his eyes melting from their relaxed light metal to storm grey and turning hard. Lucius winced, knowing that they were going to have to put up with a stroppy teenage vampire, let alone a cranky Draco.
Narcissa must have seen the same thing, as she herself closed her eyes and internally prayed for patience and mercy. "Potter is your mate, isn't he?" she asked hesitantly. Lucius cringed into his seat, knowing that she'd just willingly set off their son. This was not going to be good.
"No, he's not," stressed Draco, shoving his mother away from him and jumping up from his seat. He stormed over to the large window, just as Tippy the House-elf apparated back into the room with a tray filled with three tumblers and a large crystal bottle of brandy hovering above his head. Draco snatched up one of the glasses and the bottle, startling the poor House-elf, and poured himself a drink. He downed it almost immediately and refilled it, planning on drinking himself through the floor before he killed someone.
This couldn't be happening, he couldn't be mates with Potter! What was the world thinking, pairing him with that stupid little Gryffindork?! He didn't deserve this, he didn't want this. He wants children -something Potter definitely couldn't give him-, he wants a wife to come home to after a long day at work proofing legislations, he wants a round woman with firm t*ts and legs that are longer than anything. He didn't deserve a male mate, let alone Potter!
"Draco," said Lucius, rising gracefully from his seat and watching his son cautiously. "Drinking will not help you face the facts. Potter is your mate, just as you are his. There is no reason to deny it, it will happen sooner or later, regardless of what you do."
Draco released an agitated growl and threw the tumbler against the far wall, his vampiric strength pushing the glass so fast that it blurred against its surroundings. The sound of glass smashing had Marianna and Theodore flinching, and Blaise pulled tight the arm already cradling his mothers delicate shoulders. Draco took a deep drink from to bottle, seeing that it was easier to drink it straight from the bottle than waste time pouring it into a glass.
"Draco!" yelled Lucius, smacking the tip of his cane on the floor. "Stop this nonsense at once! You are not helping your circumstances by drinking and destroying whatever you can get your hands on! This is the way things are now, you and Potter shall be together. Just accept this! There is nothing you can do to stop it!" He roared.
Draco snarled at his father, large, long and sharp fangs gleaming out from behind slightly plump light pink lips. "I know how to stop this," he growled darkly, his eyes becoming the red that signalled his inner creature coming out. The alcohol and adrenaline was working its way through his system now, sparks in his brain were shooting off endorphins that numbed his fingertips and tingled in his toes. He was allowing the vampire within to control him. "I can stop this. I can make it go away."
Narcissa rounded the love-seat with her hands held out in front of her, the horror she felt shaping her face. "Dragon, please stop and think about this. This is your mate, the love of your life. Don't do anything that you'll regret. Please calm down."
"No," Draco laughed madly, slamming the bottle on the small table by the window. It smashed in his hand, but he hardly felt the sharp chips biting into him. "I don't want him, I want someone else, someone who actually deserves me. I can't believe you'd even want him anyway! He's a filthy little half-blood! No better than a mudblood!"
"This is all backwards," whispered Blaise, horrified by what he's witnessing. "Draco should be the one defending Harry and Narcissa and Lucius should be denying him." He'd never seen Draco this angry or agitated before, and he worried that the same thing might happen to him if his mate isn't deemed good enough. He didn't want this, he wanted to someone to love, not like his mother or anyone else. He didn't care about blood status.
"Denial makes for an ugly vampire," replied Marianna quietly, pale in the dark lighting as she gripped her sons hand and tightened the arm around his waist. "I've only seen one other vampire deny their mate, and they ended up together anyway. Though times were different then, and the two of them weren't enemies like Draco and Harry are. I've never known a vampire to be mated with an enemy before."
But they aren't enemies, Draco may think so ... but Harry surely mustn't, thought Blaise tensely, moving his mother and himself towards the Nott's, who were standing in the nook beside the fireplace in defensive crouches. Theodore shared a wide eyed look with him, expressing his fear and shock. Nott Sr. gave Marianna a tense frown, his brown eyes narrowed as he glanced at the blonde trio and protected his son with a restraining arm across his chest.
"Draco, blood status does not matter to us anymore," said Lucius calmly, realizing that any yelling he does will only make Draco more hyper. "The Dark Lord was powerful, but a half-blood like Harry -"
"Harry? Since when have you called Potter that?" asked Draco hysterically, his mind in overdrive as every instance where Potter and himself had fought came to mind. They'd tear each other apart if they were together, don't his parents realize that?! "Never mind that! Potter isn't going to be in the picture much longer anyway!" He was going to rid them of the problem before it began, he was going to nip it in the bud. No way would he bend over backwards for Potter.
"DON'T YOU DARE!" Roared Lucius, beginning to stalk his son. He threw his cane, not caring where it landed, and circled around the lounges. He was joined by his wife, whom rounded the other side and began to close in on him.
Draco snarled angrily and flew towards Potter's room with vampiric speed, his hands just snapping the door open and closed behind him as Lucius reached him, his face just within arms reach. He sealed the room shut with multiple spells and whirled around to face the other boy, ignoring the loud and forceful pounding emitting from the door behind him. The frantic beating of his heart was all he could hear as he observed the room he was in. The room was dark and warm, a sweltering heat compared to the cool common room outside, and cluttered with a large trunk and a few chests. There was even a few cauldrons varying in sizes stacked carefully on the large study desk near the back of the room.
With adrenaline and alcohol still pumping through his veins, Draco searched the room, expecting Potter to be awake and standing crouched before him.
But he wasn't there.
He was in his bed, his long black hair fanning out on the pile of fluffy pillows around him, the ends reaching and curling just slightly over the sides. He was sleeping peacefully, his beautiful face devoid of any emotion that betrayed panic or fear. The trail of blood from before was still on his cheek, though it was dried and slightly smudged, looking like he'd attempted to swipe it away but hadn't quite managed it. Draco longed to lick it away, to taste his sweet blood before he left, but he couldn't bear the idea of drinking him dry.
He had to do it without tasting his blood, or else he'd never allow Potter to leave him.
"You did this to me," he trembled, stepping closer and closer to the sleeping man, his hand reaching into his robe pocket to grab his wand with shaking fingers. His hand shook as he aimed his wand at Potter's small but steadily rising and falling chest. "You must think you're so smart, so strong, so invincible. Well you're not. You're weak, stupid and disgusting. You're just a filthy little half-blood." He had to do this, he was not going to be tied to Potter of all people. He would rather no one.
Multiple hands pounded on the door behind him, but Draco paid it no mind as he approached the large bed. Approached the small delicate man laying in it.
"Draco don't do this! Open the door!" he heard his father yell, and was echoed by the other vampires out in the common room.
It was a wonder that Potter hadn't woken yet, as the banging on the door was far louder than what the Weasel had been doing this morning, but Draco was glad for it. He didn't think he could handle looking someone in the eye and then killing them. Especially the vivid green eyes of Potter's. They were so unnaturally bright and green -- a mad laugh bubbled past his lips. Was he just thinking about the color of Potter's eyes? He surely must be going bonkers.
"I know that me ending you after all these years of the Dark Lord hunting you down will be ironic," he let out a small shaky laugh, raising his other hand to help support the one aiming his wand. "But if you think about it, I'll be putting you out of your misery. You won't have to suffer through those nightmares any longer ... better me than the Dark Lord, isn't that right Potter."
He opened his mouth, ready to say the magic words. But nothing came out. Potter snuffled in his sleep, his eyes fluttering back and forth underneath the thin eyelids, distracting Draco as his eyelashes fluttered against the tops of his cheeks. His little mouth opened in a delicate yawn, his chest rising just a little bit further and filling with more air, before releasing it in an almost silent exhale.
Draco panicked for a moment, not sure what to do as he didn't want to look Potter in the eye whilst he cast the killing curse. But Potter didn't wake, and he was allowed to breathe normally. The scent of something tangy and reminiscent of Severus's Potions classroom was in the air. His eyes followed his nose as the smell grew stronger on the nightstand to the left of Potter's bed.
He didn't realize that he was right next to Potter until his hand picked up the empty phial and brought it close to his face. He could feel Potter's body heat pressing against his right side, and it took everything in him not to react to it. He forced himself to ignore the memories of Potter's body, arching and moulding around his as he rubbed himself against the smaller man. But it was hard.
So instead of getting himself painfully hard beside Potter's slumbering body, he sniffed at the phial quietly. Dreamless sleep potion, he was sure of it. Examining Potter's room once again -and knowing that he was distracting himself and putting off the imminent death of the smaller man - he located the large chests next to the stack of cauldrons on the study table.
He wasn't sure what he was expecting when he opened them, but he sure was surprised to see the magically expanded chest reveal sections after sections of potions. They were all numbered and tagged, their name-cards flashing at him with incredibly neat and looped writing. Dreamless sleep, Nausea relief, Pain relief, Wolfsbane potion and Veritaserum -which he was shocked to see!- to name a few.
"Who - how -? Where did -?" He stuttered, reaching out to run his fingers over the tags. There were more Dreamless sleep and Wolfsbane potions than the others, but Draco paid no mind to it as he slid one of the phials out from its slot. The liquid was in perfect coloring and consistency, perfectly soft like water and not mushy like most potions year five students make.
Severus must have supplied him, he was sure of it. And Granger must have wrote all over those cards, because he's seen Potter's writing, and he knows how much it looks like an animal scratched all over the parchment in ink. His fathers pure white peacocks could write better than Potter!
"Draco! Don't do it! Open this door!"
Jerking away from the potion filled chest, he carefully slid the phial back into place and closed it back up. It was time to end Potter, no more putting it off now.
He strode back to Potter's bedside, his hands less shaky now that he'd calmed down a little. His wand hardly shook as he aimed it at Potter's chest, wary that if he aimed it at the boy's forehead, he would end up like the Dark Lord had when Potter had been one years old. However, that didn't stop him from hesitating.
Should he end Potter's life, just like the Dark Lord wanted to? Could he spend the rest of his life with nothing and no one, just meaningless sex that passed the time and meant nothing to him? Did he want to do this to someone, all because they'd been fortunate enough to be his mate?
Did he want to become a murderer the way the Dark Lord had wanted him to?
"Why are you so hard to kill?" He asked the sleeping Boy Wonder with a groan. Perhaps there was a reason as to why the Dark Lord couldn't do it, maybe underneath all that horror and lunacy, there was a heart still beating. But then he thought about the time he'd last seen the snake-faced man. Yeah ... maybe not.
The loudest roar yet came from the other side of the door, and Draco froze when Potter started to stir. His heart began beating furiously when his large eyes began to open, and he caught sight of two bright green eyes from between two sleepy narrowed slits. His heart almost gave out at the tired moan the tiny man made, but it kicked back into overdrive when the duvet was shifted over a writhing body, and the top of a pale and lightly muscled chest began to be unveiled. Saliva pooled in his mouth and his body pulled tight with lust. His wand was hanging down by his side now, long forgotten in the wake of an erotic limber Potter.
"Wha ..?" Potter's mouth opened with another yawn, and he brought his arms up above his head as his back arched, almost pulling the duvet back to reveal his entire creamy skinned torso. Draco silently panted, knowing that any second he would be found and most likely labelled as a perverted creeper. But he couldn't look away from the mesmerizing flesh taunting him from under the thick duvet, providing much to the imagination that he wanted to see. The memories of what happened in the shower floated back to him yet again, but this time he was powerless to stop them, and he found himself becoming extremely hard in under fifteen seconds. He bit back a moan and shoved his wand back into his pocket, forgetting the plan to end this man entirely, and allowing himself the pleasure of remembering all that creamy white skin sliding underneath his large hands.
He wanted him, with all his beauty and problems. He wanted Harry. And he wanted him badly.
"Open this door!" He heard his father yell yet again, and only barely had enough time to react. He dropped silently to the floor and slithered under the bed, his heart beating wildly and his erection pressing painfully into the hard flagstone floor beneath him as Harry sat up in his bed. The bed barely moved, but Draco knew that Harry was moving around. A small tentative foot touched the floor to his left, and his eyes widened when he noticed just how close he was to the edge. He carefully wiggled back and away from it, and watched with wide eyes as the foot was joined by its other one. He clenched his jaw as the bed lifted slightly, providing a little more -but not much- room.
"What the hell's going on?" came Harry's soft voice. It was so melodious when it wasn't shouting and screaming about, and Draco found it hard not to ground against the floor, no matter how harsh it was. He could almost feel his teeth chip from the force he was using, but he had to stop himself from crawling out from under the bed and rushing at Harry head on.
The feet padded away from the bed and headed towards the almost vibrating door, the steps slowing just as the voices on the other side were turning slightly more violent. Draco almost forced himself out when he realized the his family would try and subdue whoever answered the door, but he couldn't bring himself to leave. He wanted to see what would happen.
Draco carefully shuffled around, spinning on the spot so that his head was underneath the foot of the bed and his feet were where Harry's head would lay. He saw the small feet stop before the door. "Who is it?" he heard Harry ask.
"Potter?" Draco's father demanded, and Draco had to suppress a small amount of guilt when he remembered that he was supposed to be murdering Harry, and Harry had just answered with a very much alive voice.
"Mister Malfoy?" asked Harry incredulously, and Draco watched in guilt as Harry tried to open the door, only to find it locked under many layers of spells. "What the hell happened while I was asleep?"
Draco was surprised, and impressed, when Harry began stripping and breaking layer upon layer of spells that Draco had more than exceeded in mastering as if they were bits of string, and slowly was able to finally open the door. Draco couldn't help but wince when the door was shoved open and Harry was propelled back from the backlash.
"Where is he?" Lucius demanded upon entering the room, his hands quickly going to catch Harry before he fell, much to Harry's utter bemusement.
"Where is who?" asked Harry, dreadfully confused as the Malfoy's invaded his room. He was even more confused at the frantic look in Lucius' eyes, the tears in Narcissa's and the panic on the Zabini's faces, whom both followed close behind the two frantic Malfoy's. What the hell had happened while he slept? Did someone die? Was someone taken?
Narcissa smiled warmly at him through her tears as she approached him, shocking him greatly when she brought him into a motherly hug and pushed his head into the floral scented nook of her neck. "Are you alright?" she asked him quietly. "He didn't hurt you, did he?" The thought of her future son-in-law dead at the hands of her son scared her so greatly, that she completely forgot about the past and focused on the confused teen in front of her. Not to mention the memory of seeing him writhing as if under the Cruciatus curse.
Aside from being extremely confused, Harry reluctantly relaxed in her hold, allowing himself to breathe in her calming scent with ease and forgetting just who is holding him. The only other motherly woman that had hugged him was Molly Weasley, and he couldn't help but compare the two in his mind. Molly was all about strength, she would crush you to her in a hug that shamed every bear and wouldn't let go until she was ready. Narcissa was all about warmth and tenderness, which he was just finding out as she squeezed him gently to her. He wasn't upset with the fact that she was slightly taller than him, he couldn't care less, his height made it easier to mould himself to her shape.
"I .. I'm okay, but no ones been in here but me Misses Malfoy," he replied, confused and slightly dazed. The Dreamless sleep was still in his system and potent, therefore affecting his interactive skills and making him drowsy.
Narcissa's heart began to race when Harry started to turn limp in her arms, and she gasped slightly when his knees began to give out, his arms slackening around her. "Lucius!" she cried, having to hold Harry up as he drowsily blinked at them to keep awake.
Lucius was beside Narcissa in seconds and pulling Harry into his arms the next. He was concerned when he noticed that the boy weighed next to nothing, but hurried to rush out into the common room nonetheless. He placed an almost asleep Harry on one of the couches and hastily waved his hand over the raven haired man's body, muttering diagnostic charms that he had learnt from his mother when he was a child and sick with colds incurable by potions.
Narcissa was ashen-faced and worried as she stood by Harry's still side, her hand itching to reach down and brush one of the boys silky black locks back from his face. She restrained herself for the duration of the diagnosis, however.
Lucius sighed with relief as a sheet of parchment whizzed into existence and stepped back to read it, holstering his wand as he needed both hands to hold onto the very long parchment. His sharp angular eyebrows lowered with each line he read, and Narcissa began to weep silently at the intense silence, her hands brushing at Harry's face softly. Harry was already asleep, but he could feel the wonderful sensations. "What is it?" she asked quietly. "What's wrong with him?"
Lucius spared his wife a comforting glance as he continued down the page, his instincts still haywire and tuned into the sleeping teen before him. He obviously didn't care about image at that moment, as he was incredibly concerned about his future son-in-law. He scrambled to get to the bottom, but was unsure if he was skipping anything vital and had to keep going back and forth just to reassure himself.
"He's taken Dreamless sleep potion," said a timid voice.
Lucius allowed the parchment to fall from his hands as he stooped protectively over Harry's sleeping body. Narcissa reacted with much the same way, her long blonde tresses falling from the beautiful up-do that she had had it in before all of this mess had happened. Lucius was enraged, he was beyond angry and disgusted with his son's stupidity. Who was he to pick and choose who he got as a mate? Who the hell tried to kill them? Why would anyone in their right mind even so much as think of it?
The Zabini's slowly rounded around the tense blonde teen and circled the couches so that they stood behind the elder Malfoy's, Blaise holding his arm protectively around his mother, and staring at Draco with narrowed eyes. He was unsure whether Draco was in his right mind again or not, but was not willing to take the chance of allowing his mother to be exposed to an enraged fledgling vampire. He didn't know what damage Draco could inflict when still under the influence of alcohol and his skewed vampire instincts.
"I shouldn't have judged him on past experiences. I was ... wrong to do so," admitted Draco, the closest look to apologetic shaping his handsome face. "But can't you all understand that we hate each other? I couldn't stand living with him almost as much as he can't stand even seeing me. We'd kill each other before we could even consummate our bond."
"Even if that is so, it still does not give you the right to kill your mate!" hissed Lucius angrily, fangs flashing with a silent warning as Draco made to step closer. Draco stopped moving instantly. "You were stupid to think that that would have solved your so-called problem. If you had succeeded, what would you have done then? What would that have accomplished? You would have no mate to carry your children, to share your love, to carry on our bloodline or to cure your immortal loneliness. You would have had nothing!"
"I know that I was wrong!" said Draco. "But I didn't go through with it, alright? I saw reason! I realized just what a good person Harry is, I saw him with new eyes! I did nothing to him!"
"You did do something to him," said Blaise suddenly, his dark eyes narrowing further at half-truth. "This morning you came to breakfast smelling of Potter, of Potter's fluids. I know because I know what it smells like, anyone with any good sense of smell knows what it smells like."
Narcissa almost saw red. Almost. "You raped him?!" she shrieked, for once being the one to raise her voice. Draco flinched and shook his head viciously, but Narcissa was no fool. She would trust Blaise right now over her own son, however much it hurt her to do so. "How could you Draco? How could you do something so vile and despicable, so monstrous -!"
"He didn't stop me from doing it!" Draco snapped, getting fed up with being ganged up on. "I didn't even penetrate or kiss him! We were just rutting up against one another, that's all!"
"Did he deny your advances in the beginning?" asked Narcissa fiercely, not backing down. "Did he try and escape you? Answer me truthfully, Draco."
Draco thought back through the haze, thought back to the beginning before the sweet scent of Harry's blood had ensnared his mind. Though back to the beginning before Harry's body enticed him. There were several protests that rang back to him. He exhaled shakily, closing his eyes. "Yes, he tried to stop me," he admitted quietly.
The silence that encased them was suffocating, and for once, everyone was glad that Harry was asleep. This was one situation the saviour of the world couldn't handle.
Draco opened his eyes and gave his parents and anyone that would look at him an imploring look. "I couldn't help myself, he was just standing there naked with nothing but water running down his skin. His blood called to me, I could smell it three stalls over -"
"He was bleeding?" asked Lucius sharply. He could vaguely remember seeing Harry's sliced arm that morning.
Draco nodded hesitantly, unsure if this was good or not. "Yes, he was hit by a cutting charm - why?"
Narcissa relaxed against the couch, her head bowing with relief and her long locks falling completely from the hairstyle it had been in to frame her lovely face. Lucius was just as relieved, as he had just begun to believe that his son had turned out to be a bad person after all. He didn't want Draco to turn out like him, to be a bad person. "You were caught in a bloodlust," said Lucius tiredly, relaxing his protective pose over Harry's supine half-naked form.
The others relaxed as well, and Blaise began to feel less -or maybe he should be feeling more- bad about having try to feed from Harry, as he wasn't the only one. He was still going to apologize to the Gryffindor, something that he at least, was not above.
"So this was all for nothing - all this stress?" asked Nott Sr. gruffly, moving away from the fireplace and seating himself roughly in one of the seats. He glared at Harry distastefully, but said nothing else.
Draco's parents exchanged glances, but he knew all too well that he'd blown everything out of proportion. "Yes," he said, almost choking on the way he said it so .. truthfully. "I blew everything out of proportion -"
"On an epic scale," interrupted Blaise teasingly, smirking at the discomforted look on Draco's face. "If I didn't know you well enough, I'd say you were the Slytherin princess -"
"If you want to keep your tongue where it is, I'd shut it. Just remember, you still have to pay for biting and attempting to drink from my mate."
"You're accepting him then?" asked Narcissa quietly, her azure eyes sparkling with happiness as she gazed at Harry and glanced at Draco. She was already quite taken with the lovely boy, even though she had had limited contact with him for all of their two days at Hogwarts. She only hoped that the next time that she met him, he would be properly dressed -not that she saw anything wrong with his body, she was utterly fascinated with the war scars on his torso and arms-, and fully awake.
Draco glanced at Lucius cautiously, but nodded his head at his mother before his father could say anything. Not that Lucius was about to complain, he was about to accept the Saviour of the wizarding world into his family, one of the most powerful and unknown creatures in the world, and the Destroyer of Voldemort. He couldn't be more prouder of his son.
"Yes," said Draco, allowing for a small and true smile to lift his lips. "I'm accepting Harry Potter as my mate."
"Just wait till he finds out," said Blaise, snickering as Harry shifted in his sleep, his nakedness becoming apparent as he began to shiver in the cool common room. "He's going to be oh-so happy when you tell him that you've accepted him as your mate."
Draco grimaced a little, knowing that only half of the battle was over and done with. "Yes, it's going to go over real well with him."
"You could always explain it to him - you know, the traditional way?" said Marianna teasingly, picking up on her son's amusement and beginning to share it. "My, my, my .. if I did not know any better, I would say that your generations sense of tradition is lost!"
"My Draco would never lose the ways of old," said Narcissa, beginning to smile. The look on her husband's face was stopped short when she winked at him, and he began to loosen up and accept the way that they were lightening the atmosphere up. "He's much too alike to his father."
"Yes, so much like me that he even snores in his sleep the exact way I do. Like a true Malfoy man," said Lucius teasingly, smirking at his son's bright red ears.
"Yes, only a Malfoy could snore as loud as you do," agreed Narcissa, moving to slip a delicate arm around her husbands. "But as you are a man, I believe that our son-in-law is feeling a chill. Will you take him back to his room, darling?" she asked sweetly, pressing a soft kiss to his warm cheek.
Draco rolled his eyes at the display of affection and stepped forward, halting his father as he made to pull away from his mother's arm. "Don't worry father, I've got him. Just go back to mother, I'm sure she's getting tired. It's very late," he said handsomely, bending to slide his arms under Harry's back and the curve of his knees. He hardly had to exert any energy to get Harry into his arms.
"Well, if you're sure son," said Lucius, beginning to smirk rather mischievously as he turned to his wife and offered his arm with a small gentlemanly bow, laying on the charm thick. "I believe that we have been reprieved. Shall we make good of time and return to our bedchambers, my sweet?"
Narcissa took Lucius' arm with a small giggle, her other hand going to delicately cover her mouth. "Oh, why yes my darling. My feet are beginning to ache in these heels, I believe a massage is in order ..?" she asked coyly.
Draco gagged as he turned, making sure that his parents heard him, and strode into Harry's room with gentle steps, making sure that his arms cradled the smaller boy to his chest to provide warmth and safety and that his steps were soft enough to allow him to continue sleeping undisturbed. He closed the door on his parents laughter, and smiled widely as Harry nestled into his chest. It was almost as if he knew that Draco wouldn't hurt him.
"You're going to be a lot of trouble, aren't you?" he asked lightly, smiling as they were both encompassed by the heat of the large flames in the hearth. He carefully laid Harry down on the large surprisingly warm bed, sweeping the long dark hair of his mate over to one side so that he could prevent knots from forming.
"I can just see it; you'll make me chase you, you'll make me prove my worthiness of your hand, and you'll test me. And I'll pass every one of your tests, because I'm made for you, and you for me," he said softly, carefully lowering himself on the empty space beside Harry's hip and brushing his knuckles over the soft skin of Harry's cheek. "Not to sound corny by the way," he added sheepishly, lowering his head to nuzzle the junction between Harry's neck and shoulder.
His skin smelled of strawberry's, the same sweet scent that Draco was beginning to associate with home. "I only hope that you'll accept me," he said quietly, pressing a tender kiss to the sensitive skin and lingering there for a few moments.
He pulled away after a few moments of trying to ingrain the feel of Harry's skin in his mind, a soft smile on his face, and he slowly rose from his place beside the small boy. "I hope that you'll forgive me for my past, even though I know that I don't deserve it," he said quietly, pulling the soft duvet from where it lay forgotten but still warm and tucking it up to Harry's chin.
He ran a gentle finger down the length of Harry's small nose, starting from the uppermost middle of his forehead to the tip of his nose. Everywhere he touched him, he was always so soft, almost as if his skin was made of the softest material magic could make.
"Good night Harry, I look forward to seeing you in the morning," he said softly, bending and pressing his lips on the smooth forehead, avoiding the lightning bolt scar that laid just above his left eyebrow.
He stood and backed up from Harry's bedside, going back to the only entrance and exit to the room and opening the door. He looked back at Harry with something he had never looked at anyone with. Affection.
He only hoped that Harry would understand why he did what he did, and would forgive him for it. It was all that he was hoping for, praying for. Harry was the only thing he wanted - needed now, he could no longer bide his time with others. Harry was everything he is, everything he will be, and everything he wants - needs.
He just hopes that it's the same for him as well.