Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

For the Want of a Nail	By : thewickednix Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4934 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. This is made for fun, not profit.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Chapter 10. New Dimensions

Severus hasn't come by in two weeks. Not that I miss his awkward questions about my well-being and sanity, but I finished my last vial of the bottled blood eight days ago. Two nights ago I locked myself in my room, and I can't bear to open the door anymore. The thirst is starting to claw at my throat as the vaguely potent bottled blood leaves my body.
It's not like the key isn't still in the lock, and it's not like I couldn't with ease remove the locked door from its frame anyway, but I couldn't not lock it. At least now Potter can't enter the room, as he has taken the liberty to do every now and then after that first night. I wonder what he's looking for here, what he's hoping to find.
Potter wakes, I can hear his feet tapping as he crosses his bedroom to enter the loo. My mind suddenly produces the brilliant idea to crush down the walls that separate me from my prey. I leer. Potter wouldn't know what hit him. Besides, I could even make him like it...
"Merlin!" I gasp, bolting for the bathroom. I feel sick, but of course it's impossible for me to empty my stomach.
As I turn to look into the mirror, an aged thing covered in a fine layer of dust, I ponder about my options. I still have my wand, I could try to break the wards on the house and leave before I have time to attack Potter.

No. I shake my head as I use the long sleeve of my shirt to wipe the dust off the mirror. The wards would just bounce back all my spells, probably knock me unconscious, and by the time I woke... it'd be too late for Potter.
I have no way of contacting Dumbledore, no way of contacting Severus...
I stare into the porcelain face of the boy in the mirror. I thought my hue couldn't get any paler, but now the fear seems to make me even more stone faced than ever. The pain is painted on my features; my lips pressed together in a thin white line, my eyes tensed in a permanent state of apprehension. As if I were just waiting, seconds away of tasting my prey. A fanged mouth sneers back at me in disgust; I haven't been able to withdraw the canines for three days now.
I know this is all my own fault. If I hadn't attacked Potter that first night, I could have gone to him immediately when the last vial was emptied. After all, it was the original plan that I would get to feed off him once in a while. Once in a week wouldn't have been too much of a stretch.
But after what happened... I just couldn't. And now it's too late. Were I to encounter him now, I doubt I could stop in time.

My throat burns. Flames black and raw, ripping at my insides so painfully I imagine I'll soon see them claw themselves out of my chest. I imagine I can feel the flames hit the walls of my intestines, the horrendous voice of my subconsciousness screaming Kill, kill in the same rhythm.
I hear Potter enter the corridor in the North Wing, walking down the stairs with heavy steps, probably headed for the kitchen. My mind just about blows. I want nothing more than to rip down those walls, those useless pieces of stone and wood that separate me from him.
In panic I suddenly find myself falling, my legs giving out from under me. I claw at something, anything around me to keep me upright. When reaching for the shower curtain I suddenly find myself falling head first into the empty bath tub. There I sit, realising maybe it isn't the worst place to be right now. I draw the curtain, efficiently secluding me in the small, cold white room I've created. It works much like the lock on the door, creating the illusion that I can't get out.

___________________________________________________________________

God knows how long I've sat here, knees drawn to my chest, slowly swinging back and forth in a trance-like state. To keep myself from listening to every move Potter makes in the house, I ponder about the fate of Severus instead. Something must have happened. Severus is not stupid enough to stop bringing me the vials just because I have my own personal canteen walking around the house.
I shake my head. Shouldn't Dumbledore be smarter than to bring Potter here, right into the claws of one of the deadliest creatures on earth? Isn't he supposed to be protecting Potter? The boy gets into mortal danger enough by himself, it's not like he needs others to do it for him.
I am drawn back to reality by a low rumble escaping my burning throat, and I realise Potter's even steps are approaching my door. I swallow to stop the growling in my throat, hugging my knees closer to my body. I hear a knock, followed by Potter's voice echoing in the corridor.
"Malfoy? You in there?"
I close my eyes, fighting to dream myself away into some distant universe where no trace of Potter can be found. A useless effort, as his voice breaks through my barriers anew a minute later.
"I haven't seen you in three days, I'm starting to get a little spooked." His voice is a little high, breaking slightly at the last word. I hear him trying the door handle a couple of times, only to find it steadily locked.
I hear a sigh and then rapidly retreating steps, an silently thank whichever gods I don't believe in, embracing my victory with a groan. How long can this go on? How long will it take for me to break? How long before I break down that wall and-
He's here again. His steps filled with a determination that rocks the old floor beneath him, Potter approaches my door. I hear a faint rustle, and then I hear him murmur something. To my despair I then hear the door click open, the floor creaking as Potter steps inside. "Malfoy?"
"Go away," I can but whisper, my hope that he will obey me the last chance I've got.
Of course he doesn't. "Malfoy?" he repeats, following my weak voice towards the bathroom. I can't fight the sob that escapes me as Potter crosses the threshold. I know that I won't be able to hold on long now. He's close enough for me to hear the blood running through his veins. "Please leave," I try again, my voice raw and breaking.
"Malfoy?" Potter repeats again, and I can see his silhouette on the other side of the shower curtain. "Are you OK?" he asks, voice clouded with worry. I see his hand reaching for the curtain, and I know it's all over. The moment he opens that curtain, I won't be able to resist.
"Don't!" I roar as a last resort, clenching my eyes shut. Hoping more than ever that this is all just a bad dream I'll now wake from. But I know that it's not, and settle to wait for the opening of the drapes; Potter's doom. My doom.
But I hear no rustling of the drapes. I open my eyes only to see Potter's shadow lower himself to the floor with a thump. "What's wrong?" he asks, his voice low and calming.
I take a deep breath, grasping the chance that I still could get Potter out of here. "You have to leave," I manage to seethe, my arms hugging my knees to my chest closer than ever. My fingers digging into my arms, drawing blood if they could.
"Why?" Potter's melodic tone reaches me through the shower curtain, trembling slightly but filled with worry. I can hear his heartbeat speeding up, the fast pulsing in his veins throbbing in my ears.
Another sob escapes my lips. I swallow loudly, fighting to concentrate on something besides the scent of Potter's blood. "Severus, he-" I whisper, my voice breaking. "He hasn't come by for two weeks." I can only hope that Potter understands the meaning of the words and has the sanity of mind to bolt for the door right this second.
Unfortunately, my revelation is followed by nothing but a long silence. I sigh, my breathing shallow and weak. "That means-"
"I know what it means," Potter cuts me off, rising from the floor slowly. I manage to relax slightly against the tiles, closing my eyes and thanking Merlin for making Potter finally gather his wits.
My praises are apparently given too soon. Suddenly I hear a loud rustling of drapes and open my eyes to find my sanctuary awfully crowded. Potter sits in the other end of the bath tub, staring at me with a curious expression. I feel a growl grow in my throat and grasp frantically for the edges of the tub to have something to hold on to, to help me hold on to my sanity.
"What the fuck do you think you are doing?!" I roar, feeling the porcelain shake and slowly give in under my grasp. I press myself against the wall behind me, praying for this nightmare to end. Potter watches me warily, but a small smile escapes him as he meets my gaze.
"Exactly what I'm supposed to do, remember?" he murmurs, and suddenly he is crawling towards me. My mind is racing, screaming at myself for not just going to Potter in the beginning. I can't be able to pay much attention to it thought. The only thing I hear is the pulsing in Potter's veins. The fast beating of his heart.
He is right in front of me now, and I almost jump him when he reaches out and touches me. He slowly straightens out my legs that were drawn to my chest. Potter then crawls over them, sitting down on my thighs, his knees on either side of me. I stare at him in a mixture of shock and rage and desire. My whole body trembles in resistance and my fingers finally break holes into the edges of the tub.
Potter jumps slightly at the cracking of the porcelain, but a smile soon overshadows the shock. He turns back to me, grinning wickedly. He leans forward as I press my self further against the wall. I stop breathing as he presses his cheek against mine, breathing against my ear. His pulse is closer then ever, his throat just inches from my lips, and how I long for that throat. But I close my eyes and feebly try to keep from breathing in the glorious scent of Potter's blood.
He sniggers at my resistance, and takes a deep breath. "What are you waiting for?" A whisper, his warm lips gracing the shell of my ear.

And I fall.

Letting go of the tub to grasp hold of Potter's upper arms, I turn my head and sink my teeth into his neck. He gasps and shudders, apparently finding it hard to keep himself upright. Without withdrawing my teeth from his neck, I reverse our positions. Potter is now lying on his back in the tub, while I am crouching above him.

Just like last time, my subconsciousness mutters. I beat it to a silent pulp.
I suck greedily at Potter's throat, feeling him writhe and gasp beneath me, a loud "Oh, fuck...!" escaping him. Suddenly I feel a hand entangle itself into my hair, while the other is gripping the hem of my shirt.
The warm liquid flows down my throat, soothing the fierce burn immediately. I feel my strength return, my senses sharpen anew. I lap at the black haired boy's throat ravenously, feeling that nothing, nothing in the whole world can beat this.
Then suddenly Potter bucks beneath me, letting out a strangled gasp. The raspy voice fills my head with images, and suddenly the blood isn't the only thing on my mind. With immense self-control I manage to withdraw my fangs, lapping at the small puncture wounds to stop them from bleeding.
I lift my head to look down at the boy lying beneth me. He has stopped writhing now, and is only trembling slightly, obviously trying to get his breathing under control.
My eyes flicker briefly to Potter's throat where the puncture wounds are still clearly visible. But suddenly I find my mind clouded by a stronger desire than the already sated thirst for blood. I look back up to those bright green eyes. Confusion, fear and expectation is painted on his face.
My gaze leaves Potter's eyes, flickering down his straight nose, his rounded cheekbones, down to his taut mouth, still half open and panting softly. I lean down, only hoping that my fangs have withdrawn by now. I pause briefly half an inch from his mouth, breathing deeply, taking in his scent, before pressing my lips to his.
He is unresponsive at first, in shock, only trembling slightly. Then he opens his mouth slowly, the warmth inviting me in, as trembling arms grab my shoulders. Encouraged, I let my cool tongue flicker at the velvety heat of his mouth. He tastes of toast, of coffee, of sun. Of life.
Then suddenly the cautiousness is long gone. There are only tongues flickering, frantic breaths between kisses, fingers in my hair, hips thrusting. I sneak my hand under his over-sized sweater, feeling his warm skin shudder under my cool fingers. Suddenly I feel the urge to feel the rest of the beautiful, olive body. I tug the shirt upwards, my eager fingers ripping holes in the cloth. I freeze, for the first time listening to the minor part of my consciousness that tells me I shouldn't be doing this. I break the kiss, looking down at Potter's flushed face.

How fragile he is. How easily I could break him.

But Potter doesn't seem at all bothered by the ominous ripping of his shirt. He merely smiles at me breathlessly and lifts his shoulders for me to slide the sweater over his head. And I do, against my better judgment, lost somewhere in the depths of that smile.

___________________________________________________________________

A ripping sounds echoes in the bathroom, bouncing off the tiles, paralyzing the before so eager body above me. Malfoy breaks the kiss, distancing himself to look down at my face with a concerned crease between his eyebrows.
I should be terrified, lying beneath this freakishly strong vampire who just accidentally mauled my shirt into little more than a dissected piece of cloth. Yet the only thing I can focus on is that worry on Malfoy's face, the fact that he's concerned about me. I feel a giddy smile spread on my face as I raise myself to let him slide the shirt off me. For a second he hesitates, but then it seems he let's himself go, pulling the sweater over my head quickly.
Malfoy looks down at my revealed chest. Never before have I felt so naked, even though hundreds of times in the boy's locker room never bothered me. He bites his lip, hypnotic silver eyes taking in every inch of my body. He then turns to me, licking his lips. His kisses are hungry, filling my mouth with the taste of musk, iron and cigarettes. Too soon I feel his lips leave mine, only to find him kissing his way down my jaw. The touch passes over the still hot puncture wounds, down to my chest. I feel like a total idiot, only being able to lie here and gasp and shudder as Malfoy kisses and nibbles his way down my body.
As he reaches my navel and bites down at the soft flesh below it I tremble violently with apprehension. My hands live a life of their own, seeking out Malfoy's gorgeous blonde hair and weaving into it. Then Malfoy moves to unbuckle my belt, and I feel as though I'm falling over the edge of the earth. A breathless "oh God" escapes my lips. This is too good to be true, this is-
"Harry?"
- not the way to be caught with a vampire when one is supposed to be hidden away to be kept safe.
Malfoy jumps off me as if burned as the bright voice I recognise as Tonks' echoes through the house. I quickly move to fasten my belt and pick up my shirt, before I realise I can impossibly wear the dishevelled piece of cloth. Malfoy seems to realise my problem. He bolts out of the bath tub quicker than I can blink, and is soon back with a simple black t-shirt. I take the offered cloth and try to tug it over my head at the same time as I stumble out of the bath tub, chuckling hysterically.
"Harry-yy?"
The voice seems to be getting closer. I stumble out through the bathroom door, desperately trying to think of a scenario where it would look natural for me and Malfoy to spend time in his bed room. Malfoy walks past me, looking entirely too calm for the situation. He walks right to the open bed room door, turning to look back at me with a questioning eyebrow. Apparently expecting for me to follow him.
"What are you doing?" I hiss, terrified that Tonks will hear me.
Malfoy sniggers at my panic. Can't imagine what he has to laugh about, fucking prat. "I am going to greet our guest, instead of getting caught here with you looking like you've just broken grandma's favourite vase."
Grinning one last time at my hysteria, Malfoy runs a hand trough his for once disarrayed hair. He leaves the room with long steps, his Malfoy-mask firmly in place. I sputter to myself in shock and irritation for a few moments. Then I feebly attempt to straighten out my messy locks, entering the corridor with shaking legs.
- 9
- 10
- 11
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

For the Want of a Nail