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Business Meetings	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 21371 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I am making no money from this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter Thirteen—Blue Moon

            Potter came late on the night of the third, past midnight.

            Draco sat on the throne, this time with one leg crossed over the other and his face worked into a remote mask. He had the leashes of the flock in his mind, but slack, like the leashes of tame dogs. He had fed them recently, on blood so thick and tempting that he didn’t think they would raise their heads and sniff when Potter wandered through the corridors.

            He had not fed himself. He did not want to. Dominant vampires needed more blood when they did feed, but they could endure starvation longer.

            And while he could still drink from the throats of others, they tasted less pleasant now. More metallic. He knew some humans would laugh at that, would say that the basis of all blood was copper and iron, and Draco must have something wrong with his tongue if he hadn’t noticed that before this.

            He knew what they would say. He also didn’t care. He sat on his throne and waited, and heard the echoing footsteps of Potter as he came through the dim rooms, all lights extinguished. He didn’t move the less gracefully for all that, Draco noted, and he didn’t need a guide.

            Potter came into the throne room, and became Harry. Draco wondered if he noticed that transformation himself, noticed the way a weight of water seemed to rush silently off him, as though the entrance of the room bore a cleansing waterfall. Harry lifted his head and found Draco’s eyes and smiled a little.

            The first impulse to leap on him and bear him to the ground flashed through Draco’s mind like lightning. The thunder of his self-control followed. He kept still and nodded, but he knew he would need to feed after this, before the end of tonight.

            There was only one person’s blood he wanted, but he could not have it right now.

            “Lord Malfoy,” Harry said. Light movements, no attempt to bare his throat or hide it, although he bowed as he came near the throne. The news must be good, then. Draco allowed himself one sniff of the magic and the blood and the emotion, and then dulled his senses again. “You know the Wizengamot defeated another attempt to make donating blood for vampires illegal yesterday? Hermione gave testimony about how it would hurt human-vampire relations more than it would help.”

            Draco raised his own head. Harry fell silent and blinked at him. He was enough in tune with Draco to notice that he was upset, then. Good.

            “I want to know who is behind this,” Draco said. He saw the shapes Harry’s hands cut into the air, and knew they should have made those shapes against his skin, instead. He bit his own lip, and his tongue licked up his own sluggish blood, which was so poor a substitute that he resolved never to try again. “Who hates vampires enough to keep trying to pass these laws, whether or not they succeed.”

            Harry sighed and pushed his fringe away from his forehead, but not as hopelessly as he would have done it last month. He was fitting more and more back into the human world, Draco thought. More hopeful about the state of the Ministry’s politics.

            More distant from him.

            “I know,” Harry said. “I keep investigating, but every one leads to chains of dead ends. I have specific names, like the name of the person who attacked me, but either it’s someone who’s so far up in the Ministry that they can arrange for others to take the fall, or someone tampers with the paperwork. I think it’s a combination of those two ideas, and definitely more than one person working on it.”

            Draco hardly heard the last words for the buzzing that had taken over his ears. He cocked his head. “You said that only me draining an unwilling donor could cause you to turn away from me,” he whispered.

            Harry looked as though he wished Draco hadn’t remembered those words. “Yeah?”

            Draco slid down the stairs to the second one. He was crouched there, and his muscles were shifting and flowing back and forth, and Harry was watching him with parted lips and slightly extended tongue, before Draco began to think that perhaps he was going faster than he’d meant to, that he should wait.

            “You said that only that could make you turn away from me,” Draco said, his voice lowering. He would test, now. He would see how close Harry was to him and how close to the human world he had been leaving behind. “So. I want the name of the person who tried to attack you, the person you concealed from me. I am going to harm him for daring to harm someone who is mine.”

            Harry’s mouth opened further, like a horse testing a bit. Then he swallowed and said, “You said harm. Not kill.”

            Draco hummed and bobbed his head. His body was alive with lightning like a strung wire, from one end to the other. His hands and feet were alien beneath him, like the feet of a four-legged animal. All he could see was black and green and red and pink, the colors of Harry’s hair and eyes and throat and skin.

            “You survived,” he said, when he realized Harry was waiting for an answer from him and wouldn’t speak again until he had one. “That means that he should survive, too. Not well, not without pain, but I will only harm him, and not kill him.”

            Harry gave a full-body shiver. Draco enjoyed it, and stuck out his tongue and dug his fingernails into the stone beneath him so that he might enjoy it even more.

            “You like that,” he said. “You like the notion of someone fighting for you, killing for you. You like it more than you can let anyone else possibly understand. But I understand, don’t I? You’re at home here.”

            Harry swallowed and nodded. “And I always forget how at home I am here until I come back,” he whispered.

            Draco tossed his head up, but made himself hold back the snarled curses he would have liked to give forth. “That’s what your words were about,” he murmured. “You would have liked to fit yourself back into the human world, and ignore what happens between us here. You thought you could get away from me.”

            Harry nodded. “I told you once before. Sometimes it seems like a dream. And I think this time—you convinced me it would be better if I could forget how jealous I was when you bit—him.”

            Draco smiled and slid down another step. Harry had never asked for the man’s name, which was unlike him. Draco wondered if he realized how unlike. Harry didn’t want to know the name of his rival, which was fine with Draco, because he wasn’t sure he would remember it, anyway. But he hadn’t made the logical connection after that, that he wanted Draco for as many reasons as Draco wanted him.

            Or perhaps he’s so used to having to deny his own desires that he doesn’t even notice when he does it anymore.



            “You can have what you need,” Draco said. “I did that as a test to see how you would react to me drinking. It was not only to make you jealous.”

            “But some of it was?” Harry looked as if he didn’t know what to do with the answer to that question, no matter what it would be.

            “Of course.” Draco melted to his feet and took a long step forwards. “So. Now we know what the problem is, how you distract yourself from me and start thinking things should be different or you should escape from me. What do you feel now? Do you want to escape from me? Do you think going back out into the air would clear your head?”

            Harry’s face changed again, and this time, Draco could see the desire more clearly than he had at any other time. His hunger roared at the bottom of his dry throat. It seemed that seeing the emotion was better than smelling it.

            “No,” Draco said, and laughed softly. “But you think you should want to escape. You don’t know how I’ve succeeded in enchanting you so thoroughly. You want to hate me, and you can’t. It frustrates you, doesn’t it?”

            “Of course it does.” Harry’s voice was low. “I’ve never felt like this. I don’t know if something has changed, and that means I should be wary of it, or if I—if I could have felt this way in the past, and never did. That makes me want to berate myself for how much I could have missed.”

            Draco came off the last of the steps and reached Harry’s side. “Don’t think about the past,” he said. “Don’t think about lovers you could have had. Come with me. Come to me. Stay with me.”

            Harry this time braced himself as if to resist the pull of a rope. “I can’t,” he said. “Not yet.”

            “Why not?” Draco let his voice curl around Harry the way he would have used a hand on his arm. “What is there for you back in the Ministry? They tried to punish you by sending you here as negotiator. They tried to kill you. The other Aurors fear your strength, your magic, everything that makes you what you are.”

            “Not Ron.” Harry opened his eyes, and they were deep wells of light. Draco reached out and brushed one nail through Harry’s eyelashes, so gently they never blinked. “He doesn’t fear me.”

            “I would let you visit,” Draco said quietly. “This is not exile, only sanctuary from the people who hate you, who refuse to understand you.”

            “I would still like to find out who's behind this,” Harry said, and gave him a faint smile. “I know he tried to kill me, but I still don’t know who put him up to it, and why. He’s—somebody I don’t think would have needed the bribe they could have offered him, being rich enough on his own.”

            “Then stay in the Ministry, for now,” Draco whispered to him, his hands curling around Harry’s neck. “But give me the name.”

            Harry hesitated one more time, as though bidding farewell to something—his innocence, the person he had been, Draco didn’t know and didn’t care. The important part was that he had the name, when Harry leaned close and breathed it into his ear. “Terence Jayles.”

            Draco licked his ear in response, and Harry shivered and bit off the moan that wanted to make its way out. Draco stroked his side, his nails sliding up and down, creating small rents in the cloth but not touching the skin beneath.

            He was starving. He wanted—

            Not to drink from Harry’s throat. Not yet. Not if he would go back to the Ministry and someone might notice the marks of a vampire’s fangs.

            But he wanted, and he stepped back, and said, “Will you cut your wrist and give me a gift of your blood? Three swallows only.”

            Harry went still. Then he said, “The marks—no, wait, there wouldn’t be any marks if I cut my wrist and you didn’t use your fangs.” He smiled as if embarrassed to have forgotten that, but his eyes were brighter than ever, and he was trembling, his hands clenched into fists on his stomach. Then he drew his breath in and nodded.

            Draco slid closer to him, and stood there, fingers hovering a distance from his body, as Harry murmured a spell to give his wand an edge and turned his left hand over. The sharp wand slid across the vein. The skin split.

            The blood came forth.

            Draco kept his promise, but it was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life, although it did tremble on an exquisite edge of temptation and he had asked for it. He curved his fingers gently around Harry’s wrist and held it to his mouth, and swallowed once, the first time.

            The blood burned his tongue. It burned his throat. It filled his body with flaming, fiery life, turning his veins inside out, making his heart beat so hard that he was afraid for a moment the rotted organ would burst. Draco licked his lips to make sure the heat was gone before he drank again.

            The second swallow, and it increased the fire, and made him hard. Draco swayed forwards and rubbed gently against Harry’s hip, while the blood made his body sing. He could hear distant, thin, high sounds, and felt shimmering warmth light up his skin. Yes. It was like sunlight. Draco could see the light when he turned his head, and there was peace in his body, where he had thought there would be only riot, only violence.

            No, the violence came with the third swallow. Draco took his claws from Harry’s wrist before it began, which was a good thing, because otherwise he would have cut him open and perhaps not stopped until he was inside him in every way.

            This blood was pure desire, pure wanting, pure lack, cutting his body in half, splitting him open, making him long to split open, making him long to fuck, to hold, to gaze into green eyes, to dance through fire, because it could not destroy him when he was feeling like this. He shouted, and the roar made the leashes in his mind tremble, but brought no vampires running, because he didn’t want them to come.

            He wanted Harry to come, of course, and for a moment, when he looked at him and saw the way his eyes shone and the way one hand was balled at his groin, he thought he would.

            Harry snapped his eyes shut and moved a step away. Draco waited, swaying, waiting to see whether Harry would break his own promise and come to him, come for him, come back to him, this early.

            In the end, Harry whispered, “Until next month. I am going to have the names by then, or else--or else I'll stay. Do with Jayles what you want.” And he walked out of the mansion.

            Draco shut his eyes and seized his body in a grip as strong as the reaction Harry’s blood had given him. He had fed. Harry’s blood was enough to sustain him until the next month, when there would be…a reckoning.

            He didn’t come, although he could have, with a touch. He would leave that up to Harry. He wanted to come with and for Harry, not apart.

            We will be with each other. He will see. He will choose.

*

            unneeded: That Harry would be the bait is definitely what he's most concerned with. At least no one will be expecting an attack on the man who hurt him now, when several months have passed.

            AlterEquis: Not yet, but closer!

            Zip: Harry is frightened of his desires, too, especially because it's unexpected for him to feel that way. But he is going to try to accept something he wants and desires. It's a new step for him.

            Yami Bakura: Thank you so much! Yes, I hope it will read well as a complete work, too.

            SP777: Lots of people took some time to notice the setting, and I took some time to realize I wanted to do that. So don't worry. ;)
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Business Meetings