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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
- 13
- 14
- 15
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Chapter Fourteen—The Ministry’s Enemy

            Harry Apparated into place before the mansion and sagged against the door, panting. He had one moment to hope that the wards on the place recognized him, and then another curse shot past him and splintered the wood where his hand rested. Harry swore and pounded on it, hearing the strange, nearly-soundless glide of vampire feet inside. Draco’s servants were coming, but he didn’t know that it would be fast enough.

            “Come on!” he shouted, as another curse hit the Shield Charm around his body and nearly cracked it. Harry’s magic was strong enough to hold off half a dozen other people, but they had been hitting him and chasing him for more than an hour, and his exhaustion—not to mention the cracked ribs and the spell that had nearly filled one lung with fluid before he caught on—was telling against him.

            The door swung open.

            Harry stepped to the side and then around, blocking a fire curse from one of his pursuers that could have burned Draco’s door guard. Some of it got through his protections, and he shut his eyes and tried not to whimper as the pain scraped at his senses. He didn’t want the guard to get in trouble for something that had happened to him, something that wouldn’t have happened if he had been smart and gone back to Draco’s protection the instant he learned the relevant names, instead of waiting for the third of the month to throw off suspicion.

            He hadn’t “thrown off suspicion” so much as “stepped straight into their perfectly-executed assassination plot.”

            “Potter.”

            Merlin God, it was Draco behind him, his arms cradling Harry around the chest, pressing delicately on the broken ribs as if he wanted to bind them with bandages, his cold breath on Harry’s throat. Harry turned his head and tried not to moan. His body did pick inappropriate times to get aroused by the vampire he would take as his lover.

            If they survived this night to take lovers or worry about it at all, that was.

            “Get down,” he hissed, and kicked Draco’s legs back behind him as another curse howled at them. A mixture of fire and plasma, this one, relying on imitating the surface of the sun. Harry desperately performed the countercurse, but still felt the sharp burn on the side of his hand, like the bite of an animal with one, deadly tooth. “You’re the one they’re after, the one they were after all along. I was just a distraction, and they played me beautifully, and I’m not letting them assassinate you when they’ve tried so hard to do just that—”

            Draco’s hand took his shoulder, and then he turned, with strength that Harry couldn’t resist any more than he could an ocean wave, and pushed him into the house. “You are hurt,” he said, and his nostrils were flaring wide when Harry looked at him, the bones of his face pushing against his skin as if they would burst through. “Someone else has drawn your blood.” His hand found the side of Harry’s throat and tightened. “The blood that belongs to me.”

            “Look, it’s not like they meant to take my blood away from you, it’s more like they wanted to take you away from me—”

            Draco smiled at him, and Harry fell silent. He knew it was a smile, but even he had to fight the shudder of fear that rang down his spine at the sight of those fangs, bright and long, and sprouting longer as Harry watched them, curved like the teeth of a skeletal tiger Harry had seen once in a Muggle museum. Draco scratched Harry's shoulder once with a nail and pulled his hand back with a single drop of blood gleaming bright there.

            “I have your permission?” he asked Harry, holding his tongue out towards his finger.

            Harry wanted to say that it looked like Draco didn’t have to have his permission, given that he’d already stolen his blood anyway, but Draco’s eyes gleamed at him, and Harry’s breath came short, and he ripped his head up and down in a clumsy nod. Draco nodded back, and touched his finger with his tongue.

            There seemed to be a silent explosion of heat and light—no, not light, something the reverse of light. Harry saw Draco’s hair stir as at the flight of a wind no one else felt, and then he turned and faced the street. His mouth opened further, his tongue lapping out and over the fangs, and then he roared.

            Harry felt his chest shudder, and he took a step backwards before he could stop himself. That was worse than any roar of lion or tiger or crocodile he’d heard—and he’d heard a variety before, given how weird the Auror job could get. This was the roar of something that, he knew instinctively, hunted humans. The shouting of his pursuers in the streets fell silent for a moment.

            And into that silence, Draco leaped.

            Harry had known, vaguely, that his notions of protecting Draco were wrong before this, at least when he saw the damage Draco had wrought on the body of Terence Jayles: every wound Harry had suffered from his attack, replicated exactly, but exactly twice as bad, one of the hushed Healers had told Harry. But knowing it and seeing it happen were different things.

            Harry’s attackers came out of the shadows when they had hidden at the sight of Draco. He was their prime target, after all. All six were Aurors, all known to Harry, and two of them in his year at Hogwarts. He sneered in spite of how much he hurt and how terrified he was at the sight of Michael Corner and Daphne Greengrass. They’d spoken to him gently and sympathetically about his assignment as the vampire flock’s negotiator in the last month, before he learned who they were. Talk about betrayal.

            All of them cast curses combining sunlight and fire at Draco. It would have slaughtered an ordinary vampire in an instant. Harry knew that much.

            Not Lord Malfoy.

            He was never where the curses were, dancing among them in a series of flickering afterimages, his motions like a great mantis’s. One moment his arms curled out almost tenderly around Greengrass, and the next moment he’d sliced her throat open and she was falling, the blood spraying Corner instead of Draco as he tried frantically to defend himself. For a moment, Harry was afraid that Corner had succeeded and he had sent Draco to his death, but Draco was rearing up from beneath Corner’s wand, twitching it contemptuously to the side to avoid the stream of flames, and using his fangs to slit Corner open from navel to neck. He fell, dying, and Draco kicked him in the ribs to finish the kill, driving the bones upwards and sideways and into his vital organs at the same moment.

            That left four Aurors, who tried to fall together into a line. Harry tensed, sucking in a breath. He had seen that tactic destroy powerful enemies.

            But Draco roared again, and the line fell apart in fear, as two of them tried to stand and two tried to flee. Draco grabbed the two who had stood and cracked their heads together, then did something elegant and horrible with his hands that, when he backed away and leaped over their bodies, left their necks entwined like ropes. He landed on the fleeing ones, and Harry saw him grip the neck of one of them and pull. The woman’s entire spinal column came out and dangled, dripping, from his hands.

            Then he turned to the other man, and ripped his throat open, easing him to the ground. Harry could see him grimacing as he fed, but he kept on doing it.

            The hot flare of jealousy that took him made him swallow back nausea. Is my blood not good enough for him?

            But a moment later, he realized what was going on, and felt like a fool for objecting to it. Of course. Draco was making one of the cowardly Aurors into a vampire, one he could easily control and pull memories from. Anything Harry had not known about the attack or the conspiracy to kill Draco and his flock, Draco would make sure that he got from the man, whose name had been Banner.

            Harry closed his eyes and leaned against the wall. He still felt pain, but the greatest panic, the one that said he had to get to Draco before someone silenced him and killed Draco while Polyjuiced as him, was past. He concentrated on casting the minor healing spells that he could for a few minutes before something growled in front of him and he opened his eyes.

            He was aware of Banner as a dim, crouching shadow in the background, now the newest member of the flock. But he was most aware of Draco in front of him, shining like a star—and with the gravity of one. Harry leaned forwards.

            “You are giving yourself to me?” Draco was held back on a leash of pure will so strong that Harry couldn’t see movement in his limbs or neck at all. Only his mouth moved, his fangs gleaming dully. They were too covered in blood to shine. But Harry didn’t care. He turned his head to the side and grinned at Draco over his shoulder.

            “If you think you can handle me, Lord Malfoy.”

            Draco stalked towards him, one fluid step, and then another. Then he was there, and his hands settled into place, iron bands, on Harry’s shoulder, and Harry relaxed against them, moaning a little, because for the first time, he didn’t have to worry about protecting Draco. Draco was just as strong as Harry was, just as good. He could protect himself. He could hold Harry up. Harry could trust his strength, to the point that Draco could cradle him against the burning of his ribs and not hurt him.

            Draco whispered against his throat, a buzzing sound of need and desire. Harry couldn’t make out the words, but he didn’t have to. He turned his head further in the direction that Draco needed him to go, and felt Draco’s fingers straighten out in his hair and pull. Harry felt a sharp thrill cut through him. Someone else was strong, like him. Someone else could catch him when he fell.

            Then Draco’s fangs were there, seeming to nudge the skin of his throat aside rather than cut, and Harry forced himself to relax, even the inner barriers that kept him from falling under a vampire’s thrall. The bite might be painful if he didn’t.

            It wasn’t a forcing, he found a moment later. He was relaxed, and as the fangs sank in to the hilt in his neck, the pleasure began.

            He was burning.

            The pleasure wrapped around his body in a helix, flaming ropes that spread out from his throat and strangled out any other sensation. Harry drew in his breath, and the way his lungs moved was pure pleasure. His legs flexed as he leaned against Draco’s chest, and he whimpered from the result. He tried to lift his hands, and Draco restrained them, and fuck, Harry would have tossed his head around as the orgasm began, except that Draco was holding it in place with his fangs, sucking intently.

            The orgasm jolted through him, and then Harry screamed as it began again, the sensations climbing through his body, but a much shorter climb than before, and centering in the blood that flowed out of his throat in a steady pull. Oh God, oh God, he would die from this, he opened his mouth to scream Draco’s name but no breath passed his lips, and his heart pounded steadily, frantically, towards another climax, and his lungs labored, and he cried out soundlessly, and it was so good, and he let his head fall back further, as much as he could, to feel Draco’s hair against his skin, and the marble-like texture of his collarbone, oh, he was certainly good at playing a marble statue now, and—

            Then Draco’s hand fell between his legs, spread and straining as he gave himself, and Harry realized he was hard, which meant he hadn’t come yet, every orgasm he’d had so far was in his head, in his blood, it was amazing, he remembered the way Draco had killed for him and cried out—

            And Draco kissed him, and wrung him at the same time.

            Harry screamed out into Draco’s scream, feeling him swallow it as he’d swallowed the blood. He tasted blood against his tongue, above and below, tasted pleasure there and copper and iron and dust, and between his legs there was blood and pleasure and he felt so good and please could it never stop.

            It did stop, but not before it had nearly broken him, and he sagged boneless and quivering in Draco’s arms, and felt the wetness against his arse. Draco had come against him there. Harry laughed, not too breathless to be triumphant.

            “You would laugh at something like this, yes,” Draco said, and his tongue scraped out and up and down Harry’s neck. “You would.”

            “I would,” Harry echoed, and let his bloody lips kiss Draco’s neck. “And now, could you get me to a Healer? I think I might have broken something else.”

            “Like me, one of my vampires retains his wizard skills, and he was a Healer,” Draco said, and lifted Harry easily. Harry felt himself held in such a way that his broken ribs gave him no trouble. He sighed and leaned his head on Draco’s shoulder.

            “A human lover couldn’t do that,” he murmured sleepily. “Not this. Not carry me in the first place, not smell me so that he would know how to hold me so I wasn’t in pain.”

            “You’re mine,” Draco said simply, and began to walk away from the door.

            “And you’re mine,” Harry said, and linked his fingers into Draco’s collar to cement the claim, closing his eyes as he did.

            The image of the dead Aurors in the street came to him, but he simply didn’t care. He was done with caring, with being the duty-bound, dedicated Auror who fought for the Ministry no matter how many times they set him up or tried to sit on him for the fame he’d never wanted.

            He had wanted someone to love him exclusively, to fight for him, to fight beside him, to kill for him, but he had suppressed that desire guiltily, because he wasn’t supposed to want people to die.

            But now they had, and now he didn’t care. The Ministry had got what they wanted, driving Harry away from his job at last, making it impossible to for him to return.

            But, far more importantly, Harry and Draco had what they wanted, too.

*

            AlterEquis: Thank you for reviewing.

            tiggator: Thanks! I hope Harry's emotions are just as clear to you.

            unneeded: No, that's one reason Harry decided to stay this time. He simply couldn't go on much longer, and he knew Draco wouldn't let him.

            SP777: I was curious about all the space breaks you put in, but thank you for the compliment!

            Zip: No problem! I hope you enjoy this chapter whenever you get a chance to read it, and enjoy the fifteenth (and last one), too.
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Business Meetings