Author: Viridescence
Source: Archive of Our Own
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A Szerelem Labirintusa
* * *
“Love is an attempt at penetrating another being, but it can only succeed if the surrender is mutual.”
—Octavio Paz, The Labyrinth of Solitude (1950)
* * *
A short staccato of knuckles sounded on Draco’s office door.
“Come in, Potter,” he called, not looking up from his task.
Harry opened the door and leant on the frame. “How did you know it was me?” he asked, his lips tugging upward.
Draco smirked as he rifled through the papers on his desk. “No one else knocks like that,” he said. It was true, but more than that, he could smell Potter whenever he was within about ten metres. Not that he’d ever admit that, though. He took a deep breath, passing it off as an annoyed sigh. Yes, salt and warmth and fresh autumn air—Harry.
“You about ready to go?” Potter eyed him for a moment, then chuckled. “For once I’m ready before you are.” He nudged his bag with his foot.
Draco glared at him through the fringe of his hair. “I’m sure it’s only because you’ve just tossed your things willy-nilly into your bag in hopes of beating me,” Draco sneered. “Don’t ask me for any anti-wrinkle charms, you uncivilised baboon.”
Potter threw his head back and laughed, exposing a long expanse of throat and a handsome Adam’s Apple. Tease, Draco thought, and rubbed his tongue over his canines.
“You’d help me regardless, because I’m your partner at this conference, and Merlin forbid anyone with you look less than stunning.” Potter’s eyes were doing that damned twinkling thing he’d somehow inherited from Dumbledore. Only on Harry, it was maddeningly sexy, even more so since he’d stopped wearing glasses, and because it happened so infrequently. Potter no longer wore his heart on his sleeve like he had at school—he’d become more serious and reserved during the war. Harry only seemed to relax around his closest friends, and sometimes around Draco. They weren’t exactly friends, but ever since they were teamed together during the war, they’d been friendly, if not close, and they worked well with each other.
Draco particularly relished the moments when Harry was unguarded and open. It made his chest ache pleasantly.
“Yes, well, one must have standards,” Draco sniffed. “Ah, here it is!” He placed the parchment he’d been looking for in his briefcase and snapped it shut. Standing to gather his cloak and suitcase, he gave Harry a more thorough examination. Potter really did look very nice, in a fine black wool travelling cloak over navy formal robes.
“Do you approve, oh fashionable one?” Harry smirked.
“Eh… you’ll do,” Draco teased.
Potter snorted. “Snob.”
“Plebeian,” Draco retorted.
Harry grinned broadly. Draco shivered. “Shall we go now?” he asked.
Harry picked up his bag and stepped into the hallway. “They have our Portkey ready in the Travel Office,” he said.
Two flights of stairs later, he and Potter were standing on the Portkey pad, both clutching a book titled, Budapest: Thermal Waters. Smart idea, Draco mused, to use a tourist guide for their destination as their Portkey.
“So, are you ready for this?” Harry asked softly as they waited for the Portkey to activate. “You’ve put a lot into this conference. Do you think it will go well?”
Draco frowned in thought. He did have a lot riding on the outcome of this conference, which he’d spent the year following the war organising, negotiating and promoting. It had the potential to improve the lives of all vampires in Europe, and he needed the treaty negotiations to be successful. Honestly, he was quite nervous, but he was optimistic. “The mere fact that all the wizarding governments agreed to attend bodes well.”
“Good.” Harry smiled, and Draco’s stomach did a little flip.
With a yank behind his navel, the Portkey pulled him and Harry away, depositing them after a long blustery moment in the Portkey pad of the conference hotel overlooking the Danube River and Old Budapest.
“Welcome to the Danubius Hotel Gellert, Ambassador Malfoy, Mister Potter,” a beautiful welcome witch said in fluent English with a mild Magyar accent. “I will show you to your suite if you will follow me, please.” She gestured them toward a hall.
“Thank you,” Draco said politely. Potter merely nodded and followed him. Draco knew at that moment, gone was the playful, light-hearted Harry who had been teasing him in his office, replaced by the more familiar, battle-hardened Auror Potter, in control and wand at the ready. Potter would be all business now. Draco couldn’t help but feel a bit saddened by that.
The greeting witch resumed her welcoming speech as they walked through a beautifully decorated corridor. “Here are your room keys,” she said, handing two plastic cards to Draco. “All the rooms are warded against Apparation and have five-layer locking spells. You may add silencing or other security or privacy spells if you desire.” She glanced from Draco to Harry and then gave a knowing smile.
If only, Draco though wryly, but said nothing. Potter didn’t seem to notice her innuendo; he was paying attention to the room numbers as they walked, probably counting the doors to the exit.
“You can Apparate or Portkey from the room we just left. Your room is set up to allow Floo conversations, but not Floo travel. The Floo address is on the mantle. Here is a map of the hotel; the various conference rooms are marked. Ambassador Malfoy, we have arranged for feeding volunteers nightly in A Bátorság Labirintus, the Labyrinth of Courage, in the Buda Castle Labyrinth, after 9:00 pm. Here is a map with Apparation coordinates and directions for driving, or walking, if you prefer. It’s about three kilometres from here, and a beautiful walk.”
“Thank you,” Draco said again, trying not to chuckle. Feeding volunteers in the Labyrinth of Courage? he thought. How ironic.
She nodded and continued. “I’m sure you’re well aware of this as you helped organise this conference, but the Hungarian Ministry of Magic will not tolerate any non-consensual feeding by any delegates. So if you need to feed, go to the Labyrinth. There are no Muggles staying on this floor for the duration of the conference, but this is a historical building and a tourist attraction in its own right. So just to be safe, no magic in the hallways. The Gellert Baths downstairs are the oldest baths in the city—you have complimentary access, but be aware that they are very popular.”
She stopped at an ornate double door and unlocked it with a key card. “Here you are, gentlemen. Enjoy your stay, and good luck with the conference. Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.” She bowed and turned around, presumably to return to the Apparation room.
* * *
Draco stood patiently in the hallway while Potter surveyed their two-bedroom suite. Harry insisted upon checking their room for surveillance spells, hexes or curses, or any other potentially dangerous magic. Through the open door, Draco watched him setting privacy and security wards. Potter’s face was a mask of concentration, his jaw tense and his eyes gleaming. Draco shivered again as a frisson of desire rushed through him.
Draco had nursed a bit of a crush on Potter for a while now, ever since the night he was turned. He had got separated from Potter and their team during battle and pinned up against a tree by a vampire, unable to defend himself due to the thrall and a wand at his temple. “They won’t accept you now, blood-traitor,” the vampire had hissed moments before Potter and Weasley arrived. Draco hadn’t seen what happened next, as his body was burning with the transformation, but he learned later that Harry and Weasley had killed the vampire, and then Harry tended to Draco while Weasley ran for help. He would never forget the way Harry felt, the way he tasted.
That night had changed everything for Draco, even more so than the night on the Astronomy Tower. He had given up so much to change sides in the war—his respect for his father, his father’s love, his home, his mother’s safety, and his juvenile expectations for his future—and he expected to be reviled and rejected by his new colleagues once they realised what he’d turned into. It hadn’t happened, to Draco’s immense surprise. If anything, the Order was more convinced of his loyalty after he was turned than ever before.
Most of Britain’s vampires sided with Voldemort in the war, largely because he promised them rights that the Ministry withheld. The vampire community didn’t care about pure-blood supremacy; blood from Muggle-borns was indistinguishable from blood from pure-blood wizards as far as vampires were concerned. They just wanted to be able to live and feed without persecution, and the Ministry’s antiquated laws outlawing feeding pushed the vampires to the Dark Lord’s side. That fact alone nearly cost the Light side the war.
Once Draco had fully understood this situation, he had vowed to do everything in his power to change the laws. Vampirism was a result of ancient blood magic, a curse that changed the body’s chemistry, metabolism, senses and physical and magical strength. The specifics of that magic had been lost in history, and the curse was irreversible. Draco could do nothing about his own status as a vampire but accept it and move on, but he could do something to ensure that vampires never again had a reason to side against the Ministry.
With the political fallout after the war in his favour for once, Draco had spent a year advocating Vampire rights. Minister Shacklebolt had appointed Draco as the Ministry’s Ambassador to the Vampire community, and he had quickly gained the support of the vampires. Potter, Granger and Weasley had been strong vocal advocates for Draco’s cause, something that had helped him considerably. This conference to negotiate a treaty between the vampire and wizarding communities was the culmination of a year’s worth of work. Potter was an ideal delegate—he could throw off a vampire’s thrall like he could shrug off Imperius—and he was as committed to this cause as Draco. With Potter’s help, Draco knew that they had a good chance of success.
“It’s clear,” Harry said from the doorway, interrupting Draco’s musing. “You can come in now.”
“Thank you, oh gallant one,” Draco said as he stepped past Potter into the sitting room, trying to regain the easy joviality they’d had back in Draco’s office.
Potter snorted, then locked and warded the door behind Draco before slumping into a chair near the fireplace. “Just doing my job,” he smiled. “Which room do you want?”
Draco glanced into each of the adjoining bedrooms and decided upon the one with the larger wardrobe. “This one,” he said, pointing at the one to the right.
Harry nodded. “We’d best get settled in, then. When is the first meeting?”
“Tomorrow afternoon,” Draco answered. Because both vampires and humans were attending this conference, they had to compromise on the schedule. Vampires who were wizards could attend daytime meeting with little trouble, but it was tiring, rather like when he forced himself to get up at 4:00 am when he was studying for his N.E.W.T.s. As a result, they ended up compromising, with the majority of the meetings scheduled for late afternoon through late evening. The early nights of February meant that the humans wouldn’t have to stay up too late, and the vampires wouldn’t have to get up too early.
Draco set about unpacking. When he returned to the sitting room, he could see Potter in the lavatory, unpacking his toiletries. A book fell from the open bag and bounced out into the sitting room.
Draco picked up the book, a well-thumbed paperback copy of The Vampire Lestat.
“You know this isn’t the best source for accurate information about vampires,” Draco drawled, leaning on the bathroom door.
Harry, who had been putting his shampoo in the shower stall, turned around, saw the book in Draco’s hand and blushed.
Draco was instantly intrigued. He couldn’t help wondering why Potter would blush like that over a book. It wasn’t like Draco had caught him with a porn mag. But Harry was an intensely private person, and Draco knew very little about his personal life. For all Draco knew, Potter was married and had kids, but he really didn’t think that was possible. He’d heard rumours that Potter was bi, but if he dated at all, he did a brilliant job of keeping it from the public. Harry seemed more asexual than anything, so Draco had never acted on his crush. He liked his relationship with Harry and wasn’t willing to jeopardise their budding friendship because he found Potter attractive.
“I know that,” Harry said after a moment.
“For one thing, the author is completely wrong about vampires having no desire for sex, thankfully,” Draco said, curious about Harry’s reaction. It was fairly well known that Draco preferred men, but he didn’t date much, not since he was turned. Having sex made him want to feed, and Draco had not found anyone he wanted to share both of his desires with—except Harry, and that was impossible. Potter was so lovely when he blushed, and Draco couldn’t help wanting to see more.
Harry’s eyed dilated minutely and he took a quick, shallow breath, the blush deepening. Interesting, Draco thought.
Then Potter seemed to collect himself. “Can you imagine an eternity without sex?” he chuckled. “I know it’s not realistic, but I like the story and the characters.”
“Have you read the whole series?” Draco asked, wishing he had the nerve to ask about Harry’s sex life.
Harry nodded, not looking at Draco as he dug through his bag. “I have all of her vampire books.”
“I particularly liked the subtle homoerotica between some of the characters,” Draco said, thoroughly enjoying seeing Harry so unsettled.
Harry’s fading blush returned, and he glanced at Draco through the mirror, his green eyes dilating again. “Mmm, yes.”
Well, that wasn’t the reaction Draco was expecting. He was glad he hadn’t removed his robe yet as a rush of arousal flowed through his body. Perhaps there was some truth to the rumours after all. He smiled, fighting to keep it from turning predatory.
Harry returned the smile and took the book from Draco’s hand. Stuffing it back into his bag, he said, “I think I’ll try to get some sleep. I need to prepare for a more nocturnal schedule.”
Draco nodded and stepped out into the sitting room, allowing Harry to leave the lavatory. He didn’t need to rest, but he obviously had some spare time on his hands. “I’ll check out the baths, then,” thinking a relaxing soak sounded lovely. And then he could hop over to the Labyrinth.
Harry shot him a glare. “Stay in the hotel, Malfoy,” he said, apparently having read Draco’s mind. “It’s not safe for you to out on your own. You’re too high profile and there are people who wouldn’t hesitate to sabotage this conference by taking you out. The security here is good.”
Draco bristled. Harry had a point, but he didn’t like being told to stay put. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but this week would be trying, and feeding now would help him get things off to a good start. “Potter, there is security at the Labyrinth, too. They set it up specifically for us. And I am certainly able to defend myself.”
Harry seemed to think on it for a moment, then nodded. “Be careful, then. And don’t go anywhere else. Signal me if you need help. I checked, and the wards on the hotel will allow Patronuses through.”
“Fine,” Draco agreed, knowing he was getting off lightly. Potter took their safety seriously, and there really was no one better qualified for the job.
Potter gave him a little smile, then went into his bedroom and closed the door.
* * *
Draco decided to skip the baths and go straight to the Labyrinth. This was one of the main reasons why he’d decided upon Budapest for the conference. Budapest was a magical place, more so than Paris, even. Located above a large network of thermal mineral waters, Budapest was famous for its baths. Muggles loved the place for the spas, but the waters had magical properties, too, imbuing the entire city with an aura of magic and mystery. Budapest was a centre for healing in the wizarding world. It was fitting that this be the location for healing the rift between wizards and vampires.
But Draco was particularly interested in the Budavári Labirintus, the labyrinth under historic Castle Hill. The thermal waters of Budapest had created many caves, which had served as refuge and hunting grounds for prehistoric humans. Over the centuries, the caves were connected to each other and to the cellars of the houses in the Castle District. Gradually, it became a literal labyrinth, and was later used as an underground military bunker. The Buda Castle Labyrinth became a spiritual centre of Budapest’s wizarding community after it was recently restored, a place where one could chart paths of self-discovery. Muggles saw it as either an interesting or creepy museum, but to wizards, it was a place of spiritual and magical rejuvenation.
The conference organisers had selected the Labyrinth to house feeding activities during the conference because it was isolated and secure, but Draco saw it for more than the practical benefits. He’d always been fascinated with old places, old magic, and the labyrinth represented all of that and more to him. He’d accepted that he was a vampire, but it was just something he had to cope with. Maybe here he could finally embrace it—maybe here he could finally feel complete.
Descending the stairs of the Lovas Street entrance, Draco could feel the magic of the labyrinth envelop him, and he let out a sigh of relief. It was warmer down here than it was outside—the cave stayed a constant temperature year-round, but it was still cool enough that he needed his cloak. He walked down a long corridor, the Gallery. Ancient art decorated the stone walls, lit by flickering torches. At the end of the hall, Draco was stopped by a guide wearing a jacket embroidered with the Labyrinth emblem.
“Are you here for the Personal Labyrinth?” the man asked.
“No,” Draco said, flashing his fangs.
The man nodded. “To your left. A Bátorság Labirintus is the third chamber.”
“What is the Personal Labyrinth?” Draco asked.
“A place of self-discovery,” the man answered. Both it and the Lover’s Labyrinth are open by appointment only.”
Draco nodded and turned left.
* * *
“I still say we should require that all feeding be consensual.”
Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. This was proving more difficult than he’d imagined. The wizarding representative from France, Jean Renault, did not seem to understand. Either that, or he understood perfectly, and was trying to sabotage the negotiations by insisting upon impossibilities.
“Mr. Renault,” Draco said with as much patience as he could muster. “While I agree with you in principle, realistically, it is just not practical. We would starve. That’s why we should require that all victims be obliviated.”
The room erupted into argument. Harry caught Draco’s eye and gave him a commiserating look. They’d been at this for hours now, and they hadn’t made much progress.
“Enough!” Harry shouted, and people slowly fell silent. “We are clearly getting nowhere with this discussion. I propose we take a break and come back to this in an hour, when we will all be civil and willing to compromise.”
Renault glared at Harry. “Surely you, Harry Potter, don’t advocate feeding on people against their will!”
“Like Malfoy, I agree with you in principle, Mr. Renault. I also understand that requiring consent will push vampires to choose between breaking the law and starving. We need to come up with apractical solution.”
Renault appeared to boil over. “You have no idea what you are proposing, do you? Just because Malfoy is safe,” he sneered, “you think all vampires are the same! You have no idea how dangerous they are! The thrall doesn’t affect you! You have no idea what they are capable of! Allowing them to feed without requiring consent is giving them free rein to kill!”
Everyone started shouting at this and the room dissolved into chaos.
“We’ve already agreed no killing—”
“You’re just trying to sabotage—”
“What guarantee do we have that you’ll abide—”
“Just because your brother was killed by a vampire—”
“—should all be destroyed, starting with Malfoy!”
An abrupt silence fell as the shouting delegates suddenly found their voices silenced. Harry stood in the centre of the circular table, his wand drawn. “That is enough,” he said calmly. “We are here to negotiate a peaceful co-existence between wizards and vampires. Mr. Renault, I am very sorry that vampires killed your brother. But you are mistaken if you think I do not understand the danger. I wasthere. I fought vampires; I saw firsthand what destruction they could wreak. And I still believe that the true danger lies in denying them their rights. I suggest that you return to France and send someone willing to work with us to take your place.”
Renault attempted to shout at Harry, but his voice was still silenced.
Harry pointed to the door. “Please tell Minister Delacour that I’ll Floo-call him in the morning.”
Renault made a rude hand gesture and stomped from the room.
Draco tried not to look too triumphant. He could kiss Harry. It was well known that the French Minister for Magic adored Harry Potter. How could he not, when Harry had rescued his youngest daughter during the Tri-Wizard tournament when he was only fourteen? Potter had just single-handedly reminded people of who he was, why they were there, and what they were trying to do. He could have any political office he wanted, should he want it, and everyone here knew it. Draco knew that they still had challenges ahead of them, but the delegates would be more cooperative from here on.
Harry waved his wand again and removed the silencing spell. “Now, I propose we take that break,” he said, sending Draco a smile.
Draco could literally feel his crush morph into something much stronger at that very second, and he had to take a deep breath as people began bustling to the doors.
* * *
Draco collapsed on the sofa in their suite sitting room. Merlin, what a day. The new representative from France was much more flexible, but the negotiations were still difficult. He was feeling drawn, parched. He needed to feed.
Potter came into the room then, his face tense. “The Romanians are still objecting to the Obliviation clause,” he said.
Draco sighed. Every delegation present had agreed, in principle, to the proposed treaty, but hammering out the details had been exhausting. Romania rather liked the mystique of being famous for vampires, and they were obstinately against Obliviating all victims. If they could only see that Obliviation was necessary to protect both the magical and vampire communities—it was more important than cultural mythology. Besides, Draco thought, Transylvania would always be famous for vampires, in the past. There was no need to allow stories of current-day vampires to circulate.
Harry seemed to sense Draco’s frustration. “You’ve done a great job with this conference, Draco,” he said. “It’s only three days into the negotiations. They’ll come around.”
Draco gave a weak smile. “Thanks, Potter.” He made to stand up, and his body protested. He could feel the ache of hunger in his bones. And as much as he’d like to, feeding from Harry was not an option. He could still taste Harry, even more than a year later. But he wasn’t even going to consider asking.
“You alright?” Harry asked. “You’ve gone even paler than normal.”
“I need to feed,” Draco said.
Harry shuffled on his feet, looking like he wanted to say something. Draco collected his cloak and headed towards the door. Budapest in February was quite cold. “I’m going to go to the Labyrinth,” Draco said. “I’ll be back in about an hour.”
Potter finally spurred into action. “I’m going with you,” he said, putting on his cloak.
“No, Potter—”
“Yes,” he insisted. “I’m not going to let you go alone.”
“I’ll be feeding, Potter,” Draco said in a tone that suggested he was speaking to a child. “There will be other vampires there, feeding. You’ll be in more danger than I will.”
“You know the thrall doesn’t affect me, Malfoy. I’m your backup; you’re my responsibility. You’re not going anywhere alone. I know you went on your own before, but that was before Renault threatened you.”
Draco normally would have continued to argue. Yes, Harry was immune to the thrall; it was something he personally found very attractive about Harry. He knew that Potter wouldn’t be in any real danger—he just felt uncomfortable having an audience while he was feeding. But he was hungry, and he didn’t exactly want to talk about it. It was leave now, with Potter, or pin Potter to the wall and bite him, which was even more tempting. “Fine. Let’s go. Be on your guard.”
“Always,” Harry replied. Draco wondered if Harry ever got tired of being on his guard—he’d only seen Harry relax a few times this week, when they returned to their suite. Draco’s body throbbed painfully, distracting him from his concern for Harry. He stepped out of the door and walked quickly to the Apparation room, Potter right behind him.
* * *
Draco walked right past the Labyrinth guide this time, not taking time to look at the art on the walls, and turned left, towards A Bátorság Labirintus. The feeding chamber was well-lit, and Draco could feel his fangs ache as he smelled blood. The room was filled with people milling about tables and chairs arranged around stone figures. Several sofas lined the walls, and humans who volunteered themselves to the vampires milled about in various stages of undress. It had been like this the first night he came here—vampires often liked to mix feeding and sex. A woman was being fucked on one of the sofas, the vampire feeding from her breast. Another man was bent over a table, a vampire thrusting into him from behind while a female vampire fed from a bite on his inner thigh.
Draco felt a thrum of arousal, but squashed it. He hadn’t indulged the first time he was here, and he certainly wasn’t going to now, not with Harry here. Besides, he would rather get blood and sex from Harry.
That’s not possible, Draco thought. Don’t torture yourself. Just get what you need and stop mooning over Potter.
Potter walked a few meters behind Draco, his wand down but ready. Draco knew without a doubt that Harry had sized up every person in the room, checked for inappropriate magic, and had cast a tracking spell on Draco to ensure they didn’t get separated.
Draco could care less at the moment. A young sandy-haired man caught his eye and bid him over. The man said something in Magyar that Draco didn’t understand.
“English,” Draco said. The man shrugged and tilted his head to the side, inviting.
Language wasn’t a barrier for this. Draco stepped up to the man, cupped his cheek, then lowered his mouth to his neck. He could feel ridges of scar tissue under his tongue—this one had been a volunteer for a while. No matter. He sunk his teeth into the flesh and drank deeply as the man hummed in pleasure and leant into him. Warm and coppery, he could taste a splash of wine; otherwise the blood was rather bland. But it filled him, quenching the ache inside him, and that was enough.
Opening his eyes, Draco looked over the man’s shoulder as he disengaged. Potter was standing a short distance away, staring at him. Eyes dark and dilated, Harry’s cheeks were flushed, his breath shallow and rapid. His attention was completely riveted on Draco’s face, his trousers tented. He didn’t even seem to recognise that Draco could see him.
Oh my, Draco thought, instantly aroused by Harry’s reaction. Curious, he whispered a healing charm against the man’s throat and licked from shoulder to ear to collect any stray drops of blood, watching Harry intently.
Potter’s jaw dropped, and he stopped breathing. His flush spread down his throat. Draco could smellHarry’s excitement from here, distinctly different from his victim’s aroma.
The man in front of Draco moaned and shifted closer, running a hand down Draco’s chest, snapping his attention away from Harry. He took a step back, but the sandy-haired man followed him, pressing his palm to Draco’s groin. Draco shook his head no and pushed him back. The man shrugged and smiled, then walked away.
When Draco looked back at Potter, he had pulled himself together and had resumed his stance as guard, his eyes on an eroded stone sculpture. Draco took a moment to collect himself. Interesting, he thought. Harry has a vampire kink. Perhaps being with him wasn’t impossible. Draco decided that this warranted further consideration. Because as much as he longed to taste Harry again, he didn’t think it would be enough.
“Better?” Potter asked him, his voice cool.
Draco licked his lips, showing off his fangs. “Much,” he said, smirking. He could feel his hunger dissipating as warmth spread through him. He wouldn’t have minded taking another volunteer, but this would tide him over for a while.
Harry gave him a stiff smile and nodded towards the exit. Draco nodded his agreement and they made their way out of the Labyrinth in silence.
* * *
Let’s walk back to the hotel,” Draco said after they reached the surface. “It’s a lovely night, and it’s only a few kilometres.” He looked up at the stars, dimmed slightly by the lights of Budapest, but still clear in the February air.
“Are you kidding?” Harry scoffed. “It’s freezing!”
“Yes,” Draco admitted. “But we’re wearing winter cloaks, and we’re wizards, are we not?” He cast a warming charm on Harry’s cloak before the other man could protest.
Potter merely grinned and rolled his eyes.
“Besides,” Draco continued, casting the same charm on his own cloak, “we’ve been here several days and we’ve been cooped up in that hotel most of the time. I need a break, stretch my legs.”
Harry seemed to give it some thought, then shrugged. “Alright,” he said. “Thanks for the warming charm.”
“You’re welcome.”
They started walking down the hill toward the Danube. Buda Castle was beautifully lit, and Draco took a few minutes to admire the massive architecture as they walked. “We should try to do some sightseeing before we leave,” he said. “I bet the castle is amazing inside.”
“Yeah, I’d like that. I’m surprised you haven’t been to the baths yet,” Harry said casually.
“Oh, yes, the baths,” Draco agreed. “Yes, that is on my to-do list while I’m here. I haven’t had much time yet, the negotiations have been too encompassing. We should go tomorrow, before the meetings begin again. It might help, being relaxed.”
“I hadn’t planned on going to the baths,” Harry said. “I was more interested in the caves. I’d like to go back through the Labyrinth, actually. I love the ancient artwork. I can just feel the old magic there.”
Draco looked at Harry, surprised. “That’s why I wanted the conference here. I can’t believe that you feel the same way.”
“Yes,” Harry nodded. “I love places like this. It’s the earth’s magic. Besides it being my first real home, that’s one of the main reasons I love Hogwarts so much. The ancient magic in every stone. It feels like that here.”
Something in Draco’s soul clicked, but he couldn’t explain what it was. “We’ll definitely take a tour through the Labyrinth during the day, then. But you should go to the hotel spa and have a massage. It would do you wonders. You’re always so tense, so in control.”
Harry sighed, his shoulders stiff. “I have to be,” he said, oozing resignation.
“It’s tiring, isn’t it?” Draco asked, knowing full well how draining always being in control could be. He’d struggled with that all through school, and finally gave it up during the war. There were better places to direct his energy. But he still had to keep control of himself, of his desires, so all the lessons in control he’d received from his father when he was young did have some benefits.
Potter shrugged. “Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to be the one in charge, the one with all the responsibility. But that’s my job; it’s who I am.”
Draco thought to argue this point but decided against it. Harry didn’t seem to be too receptive at the moment. So he said nothing, instead mulling over Harry’s words as they passed Elizabeth Bridge, its lights reflecting in the dark waters of the Danube.
After a few blocks of silence between them, Potter spoke up. “What’s it like?” he asked softly.
Draco was surprised by the question. “Being a vampire, you mean?”
Even in the pale yellow of the streetlights Draco could see Harry’s blush. “Yeah,” he said.
Draco thought for a moment, wondering why he wasn’t bothered by the question. Normally he didn’t like to talk about it, but he didn’t mind sharing with Harry. Perhaps it was because Harry was there when it happened. “In some ways, it’s very different. In others, it’s entirely the same as it was before. I get hungry, but not for food, and not as often. But I can still eat some foods. I can be up during daylight hours, but it’s harder on me, going against my natural internal clock. I can do some spells wandless, ones that don’t take a lot of power, like cleansing and minor healing spells, when I couldn’t do any wandless magic before. My senses are far more acute—vision, hearing, smell, everything.”
“Really? How so?” Harry asked, clearly curious. They’d never spoken this candidly about Draco’s vampirism.
“I can make out whispered conversations across a room, and I can tell people apart merely by smell,” Draco replied, not going into detail.
“Wow, just like Remus,” Harry said.
Draco nodded. “Yes, in that aspect, lycanthropy and vampiricism have similar effects. But I’m always a vampire.”
“How did you take it, realising what had happened to you?”
“Well, you were there for part of it. I didn’t realise it at first. It took a while for it to really sink into my head.”
“You seemed to handle it okay,” Harry said.
“Potter, it wasn’t until I realised that I was killing you that I was able to get any sort of hold on myself.” The transformation newly complete, Draco was in shock and not in control of himself, when he suddenly recognised that he was drinking Harry Potter’s blood. The understanding that he was a vampire had stunned him enough that he’d pushed Harry away.
“That was my fault,” Harry said, his face pinking again. “I knew that vampires have the least amount of control right after they’re turned, and I shouldn’t have got so close. But I needed to know that you were okay.”
Draco nodded. It was strange talking about this now, more than a year after it had happened. He and Potter had never really talked about what happened the night he was turned. The events of that night just hung between them, colouring all their interactions. Ever since then, they’d become simultaneously closer, yet more distant. They were friendly colleagues, they got along well, all their animosity falling away, unimportant. They worked well together and occasionally hung out together socially, but there was this… thing between them, keeping them separate. For the first time, Draco could sense that distance between them closing, and it felt good.
“I was more worried about you,” Draco said after a moment.
“You know, it’s funny,” Harry started. “If it had been anyone else, I would have been fighting for my life. But somehow I knew you wouldn’t hurt me.”
“Potter, I attacked you when you were attempting to help me and I drank your blood,” Draco replied, amused. But now that he thought about it, Draco recalled with a jolt of wonder that Harry hadn’tstruggled against him.
“I know, Draco, I was there,” Harry said, oblivious to Draco’s surprise. “I can’t really explain it, but I trusted you. I knew you wouldn’t do any lasting damage.”
The blush on Harry’s cheeks flamed brighter, and Draco shivered as he remembered the way Harry’s body had felt against his as he fed, the way Harry had relaxed against him, the way he smelled—salt, sweat, adrenaline, and fresh autumn air—and Merlinthe way he tasted. Potter’s blood had surged through him, engraving his essence on Draco’s insides. Draco could still taste Harry. His body thrummed with desire to taste him again, despite being sated from his recent feed. No one he’d ever fed from compared to Harry.
But no, he wasn’t going there. Not possible, don’t bother thinking about it, he thought.
Harry chuckled next to him.
“What?” Draco asked.
“It’s just… I still can’t believe the irony. It took you being turned into a vampire, a supposed Dark creature, for the Order to finally believe you were really on our side.”
Draco nodded wryly. Newly-turned vampires almost always killed their first victim; like Potter had said, they had the least amount of control right after being turned. That was why one of the treaty clauses was supervised turnings, to prevent death. Harry should have died that night; Draco should have killed him. That he hadn’t done so completely quelled any lingering concerns about his name, his history, and his loyalty. Potter had been particularly smug about it, having previously spent hours trying to convince them that Draco could be trusted.
“You trusted me,” Draco said as the thought occurred to him.
“Yeah, from the moment you came to us with your mother, wanting to switch sides, I knew you’d be loyal.”
“How?” This was something he’d always wanted to know but never had dared to ask. “Why did you defend me?”
“Because I was there, Draco, that night on the Astronomy Tower. I saw you lower your wand. You would have changed sides that very night had Dumbledore not died. I know what you were up against, that you were just trying to protect your family. And the best way for you to protect your mother was to come to us.”
Draco stopped dead in his tracks, completely dumbfounded.
Potter stopped a few steps ahead and turned to look at him.
“You were there?” Draco managed, his voice a harsh whisper. He wasn’t very proud of his actions that night, and it was disturbing to know that Potter had witnessed it.
“Yes,” Harry said simply. “That was what made me change my mind about you. It’s why I gave you a second chance.”
Draco wasn’t sure what he was feeling, let alone what he should say. “Oh,” he said after a moment. “I suppose that’s good, then.” That night had been one of the worst nights of his life, yet it set the stage for this friendship with Harry, something Draco was quickly coming to see as one of the best things that had ever happened to him. Irony, he thought wryly.
Harry gave him a bright grin. “Yes, it is a good thing,” he said as Draco stepped up to him. They started walking together again and spent the rest of their walk talking about the treaty negotiations.
* * *
Tbc