Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Viper	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 7435 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter; that belongs to J. K. Rowling. I am making no money from this fic.

Chapter List
- 1-Viper
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 6-Part 6
- 7-Part 7
- 8-Part 8
- 9-Part 9
- 1
- 2
- 3
Thank you for all the reviews!

Lightly. It had to be lightly.

            Draco turned sideways and stepped carefully between the lines of wards that crisscrossed this particular entrance to the Ministry. An ordinary wizard would not have been able to see the lines. Nor would he have been able to manage the weird contortions required to negotiate the maze. Twice, Draco had to dislocate a shoulder; once, he wound a leg out of joint; then he dropped to the floor and crept along with his fangs scraping on it.

            His fangs had elongated at the mere thought that he would see Potter soon.

            He wanted to laugh when he stood up on the other side of the wards and found himself safely in the Ministry. Why don’t they have wards specifically to keep vampires out? he wondered, as he dusted the sleeve of his coat. He’d chosen new clothes from the Manor before he left, from a hidden storage space the family kept safe in case anything drastic ever happened to the main parts of the house. He turned and looked down to be sure that no dust clung to the back. The object was to impress Potter, not to inspire him to grin that sardonic grin. Such a stupid oversight.

            Of course, most humans in the Ministry weren’t like Potter, obsessed with vampires to the point of desperation. Draco, as he trotted silently up the stairs and did combat with wards one more time near the entrance to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, reckoned he should be grateful for that.

            He’d expected to have some trouble navigating once he got into the upper corridors. He hadn’t been around so many humans at once since he was turned. The scents of blood would overlay each other—

            Not so. The other scents might have been so many dusty ribbons crisscrossing the corridor. Draco had no interest in them, in their soft rustling and their muted colors. What made his fangs lengthen was the single brilliant scarlet ribbon, quivering and pulsing with an intenser life, that ran straight to the door five steps ahead of him.

            Draco danced along the ribbon of the scent. He imagined blood. He hadn’t fed tonight, and his body ached like a werewolf’s belly. He imagined the parting of Potter’s skin, the way he would tilt his head to the side in abject surrender, the parting of his lips as he gasped—

            He had learned something when he tried to confront Potter in his home, however, and so, by dint of much squinting, he made out the thin black spiderweb of wards strung across his office door. Draco didn’t know what exactly they did, but they stank of death to undeath. He paused and folded his arms, frowning.

            Must Potter be so difficult? Draco knew almost nothing about the Long-Desired except what Thalia had told him—the perfection of power and blood, the vampire’s ability to use the wizard’s magic if they drank from him or her, the need for willing consent—but he knew that seeking Potter out was far more interesting than anything else he could do. It made the nights as bright and warm as a fresh kill. This was what he was meant to be doing, the best thing for any vampire.

            Certainly Potter must have the human equivalent of that. There must be a human equivalent of that, or not many vampires would have their Long-Desired.

            And Potter was behind those wards. That meant Draco had to figure out a way to conquer them.

            He sank back on his haunches and commanded his brain to operate the way he did his muscles. His hunger couldn’t distract him. He didn’t fancy trying to court Potter as a small pile of ashes on the threshold of his office.

            The web would cause death to undeath. Draco licked thoughtfully at the back of his left fang. But it couldn’t harm humans, or Weasley, whom Draco had learned from reading the papers was Potter’s partner, couldn’t go in and out each day. Potter might have some special items on him to facilitate his own passage, of course, but he was still Potter. He wouldn’t want to cause inconvenience to a friend.

            Draco cocked his head. Could I enthrall someone and have her lead the way into the office? One of the dim scents layered across the corridor led to a dull, thudding heartbeat still at work in an office further on. Draco knew without any more than a sniff that she was young, female, and either exhausted or in despair. It would be the work of less than a moment to glance into her eyes and seduce her to his will. Potter, most irritatingly, was immune to the thrall, or Draco would simply have waited outside the Ministry.

            Then he glanced back at the door and narrowed his eyes, and identified an ember-colored pattern behind the black one. Draco smiled with reluctant admiration. Potter also had a ward up that would alert him if someone under a vampire’s thrall tried to enter.

            He has learned subtlety and cunning. Brave, too, and magically powerful, from the way he attacked Caspar.

            It was hard to sit still, with his hunger and his impatience and his longing. Draco rose to his feet. He could see no way past the wards at the moment. It was possible that the Manor contained books that could help him. He would peruse them and return tomorrow night.

He had the time. That was what he had to realize. Vampires were immortal, and no matter how much he wanted Potter to yield to him now now now, that was only a remnant of human impatience. He would diminish his own chances if he tried to go too fast and too far at once.

            The thought of losing Potter made an involuntary growl bubble up from his chest.

            A loud curse came from within the office, and Draco started. Then he crouched back down, though in a shadow, so he would be less immediately visible if the door opened. He was an idiot for not thinking of this plan before, and the only excuse he could give was his unfamiliarity with vampire powers in general.

            He might not be able to see Potter tonight. But he could hear him, and that would give him some much-needed information.

            He shut his eyes, effortlessly filtering out the sounds of Potter from the others in the corridor now that he was concentrating, and listened.

            Potter was sitting behind his desk, his feet tapping. Draco heard the rustle of cloth against wood; he could see in his brain, as though someone had painted the image for him, Potter’s knee brushing against the bottom of a drawer as it juddered up and down. Potter’s heartbeat increased as Draco sat there, and his fingers tapped, too, but otherwise Draco could hear only the sound of paper rustling.

            Something in the papers irritates him. He’s here late because of paperwork? Perhaps he won’t have finished it by tomorrow night, either. I would have a long wait for him near his house, but he might be more weary and less wary when he Apparated in—

            Then Potter cursed again and stood up from behind the desk. His shoes squeaked as he paced back and forth. Draco frowned. Does he take those shoes along when he goes out hunting nests? It’s a wonder someone hasn’t killed him before now.

            The thought of a nest gave him the memory of a strong body trapped beneath his own, living warmth, crinkling curly hair, hands fluttering with Potter’s weakness—

            The intensity of the image, and the rush of hunger up his throat from his belly, nearly made Draco fling himself against the door. It was better for everyone involved that Potter started speaking again just then.

            “I know it’s vampires.” He muttered the words, but they came easily to Draco’s ears, which would have heard his Long-Desired’s cock stirring to erection beneath three layers of fabric. “Nothing else could enter the houses so neatly, and replace the blood in the body even whilst they caused those bites, and get hold of wizarding magic at the same time. But both McFadden and Gowan had anti-vampire wards, and not common ones either. They left those out of the first reports they made, of course,” he added to his invisible audience. “Didn’t think they were important. Bloody idiots. Most wizards would have had trouble taking them down. But grant that the nest hired or allied themselves with wizards who could. All right, granted.

            “Some of those wards were ones that only the wizard who cast them could remove. And Gowan’s were ones he cast himself. A vampire could have come to his window and enthralled him into removing them that way—except that the wards would have prevented a vampire from getting within a mile of the house in the first place.” There was a pause here as Potter kicked his desk. “Or should have. But I know it was vampires. But how do I prove it?”

            Draco licked his lips and flowed backwards. He had everything he needed. Names, confusions, specific magic. The books at the Manor would contain more information on vampires than simple notes on the wards that kept them out.

            Including, Draco was certain, the information he required to offer Potter in exchange for a trade. Names for blood.

            Potter would do it, he was certain. He was obsessed with killing nests. He had let Draco live once. A single rogue vampire wasn’t as much of a threat as someone like Caspar, backed up by dozens of willing servants who would die for him and consider it an honor, and especially not a nest that could somehow force its way past anti-vampire wards. Potter was probably worried for his own safety as well.

            At least, he should be, Draco thought, licking his fangs, if he is wise.

            Everything he needed, except Potter’s blood in his belly. But that would come in a smattering of nights at worst.

*

            Harry swore under his breath and hurled another book at the wall. It was useless. He had the greatest library about vampires in Great Britain, he was certain, and it was all so fucking useless.

            He dropped onto his couch and put his head in his hands. His breathing echoed back from every corner of the room, dark except for the single lamp he had turned on to read. He didn’t see any reason to spend a lot of time in the light since Ginny died. He trained and thought and moved best in the dark, where his prey lived.

            There’ll be a third murder soon, I know it. And the Ministry isn’t any closer to stopping it because they’re looking in the wrong bloody direction, and I’m not any closer to stopping it because I can’t tell how they get past the wards.

            He took a slow, deep breath, and then continued doing so, forced away the hopelessness clouding his mind beat by beat. There were things he could do. There were always things he could do. He’d trained himself out of simply giving up, or giving in, the night that Ginny died and he realized what kind of commitment would rule the rest of his life.

            He knew who fit the victim profile now: collectors of particularly pretty things, not greatly expensive but unique, who lived behind anti-vampire wards. He was certain that last was an important part of the cases, though Austin and Stone might not think so. The nest probably took a great deal of delight in killing the victims who believed they could relax, that no harm would ever come to them from rogue vampires. They were like that. Cruel, calculating predators. Like cats. Like Voldemort had been.

            He could discover people like that by looking through the Auror files and by interviewing McFadden’s and Gowan’s friends. It would take time, and there might be more murders in the meantime, which he would be unable to prevent, but he would do some good. And keeping blood in bodies was just as important as taking beating vampire hearts out of them.

            He would have to be careful. He would have to be watchful.

            Especially because, if he was right, he was dealing with no ordinary nest, any more than Malfoy’s nest had been ordinary. Vampires—didn’t conduct thefts like this. They delighted in leaving open traces of their passing, and challenging the authorities to discover them. But they were usually solicitous about leaving clues that the authorities could discover, if it came to that. They considered themselves the rightful dominant species on Earth, never mind their weakness to sunlight and all the rest of it, They would want to confront someone who was so arrogant as to hunt them down, and to destroy him, because of their own insuperable arrogance.

            To go to such lengths to hide their crimes didn’t match what Harry knew of them.

            Maybe the wizard working with them counseled caution, Harry thought wearily, and rubbed his forehead. He’d been up for almost forty-eight hours, now, since he’d spent last night researching vampires as well. But I don’t know any vampire who would follow such cautions. The wizard would practically have to be the leader of the nest, and that wouldn’t happen. Nest members would go on fighting until one of them was in charge. And anyway, if a vampire wasn’t already leading them, the control would break and the get would go off to become master vampires on their own. No nest to commit the murders in the first place, or for the wizard to command.

            It was possible that the thefts and murders were the work of a single rogue vampire and wizard, of course, which would dispense with the objections about nest behavior. But that still left the problem of the wards that McFadden and Gowan had put up themselves.

            Harry could, of course, use the same magic that had drawn Malfoy’s nest to hunt him, and these vampires would come seeking him, unaware of the call. But he hated to go into battle unprepared, particularly in this case, where his enemies were so unusual. He made every effort to keep his life when he fought. He needed the life to kill more vampires, after all.

            What can I do, other than search for victims and try my best to be first on the scene of any new murders, so as to study them for myself?

            A sharp clank rang through him then, and he started and sat up. There was a vampire leaning on his wards, near the white boulder that marked one edge of his territory.

            Hope surged through him, but Harry told himself brutally that it was unlikely to be one of the thieving nest, given that he had no collections to interest them. Still, it was a chance to act, he thought, as he reached for his throat medallion and the nearest group of convenient weapons on the table next to his chair.

            And, perhaps, a chance to kill.

*

            Draco straightened when he heard the crack of Apparition. Potter appeared not far from him, his eyes wide, his hair mussed, his right hand clutching his wand and his left hand at his throat, probably to trigger the same devastating weapon that he’d used to blind Draco two nights ago.

            And, to Draco’s delight, there were circles around those wide eyes that hinted he hadn’t been to bed yet.

            He stiffened like a sword when he saw Draco, and his left hand clenched around the thing at his throat. To Draco’s gratitude, though, he didn’t immediately aim the weapon. And after what he had read about vampires and their Long-Desired in the books at the Manor, Draco thought he even knew why.

            Not that it will do to tell him about that, of course.

            “What do you want, Malfoy?” Potter asked. His voice was a rush, like wind in leafless trees on a winter night. “I’ve already told you that I have no intention of yielding to you like a slave.”

            Is that still true? Draco wanted to ask, but he knew taunting and riddling, as much as he thought them appropriate when Potter didn’t have the advantages he had, would only get him blinded again. He conquered his instincts after a short, sharp battle, and said, “I have the information that you will need to defeat the vampires you hunt. The ones who killed McFadden and Gowan. How they got past the wards, and why they’re using wizarding magic instead of their own.”

            Potter went silent. Had Draco been mortal, the deadly calm of his posture would have been impressive. But Draco was superior to mortals now, and he could hear the wildly beating heart and the gradually quickening breath. He licked his fangs.

            “How did you know I’m hunting them?” Potter hissed almost under his breath. He seemed confident Draco would hear him. Really, then, it was careless of him to forget how his body would reveal his mood, Draco thought.

            Draco couldn’t hold back the urge to taunt any longer. “Because I have ears, Potter, and I listen, and the wards on the Ministry are pitiful.”

            Potter, with a snarl, started to tilt his left hand. But Draco had been watching, and this time he was thinking about something else than the satisfaction of his hunger, and Potter was tired and thus a hair slower.

            Not much slower. But it was enough.

            Draco sprang, going twenty feet straight up in the air and coming down again effortlessly. He landed beside Potter when he descended and grabbed his wrist, ducking his head and hiding his eyes against Potter’s back as the flash went off. The next moment, he wrapped one arm around Potter’s waist, pinning his right hand in place, and the other arm around his throat, holding the left.

            And, incidentally, tilting his head to the side so that the place where he’d bitten Potter the last time was exposed.

            The scent of blood came up like the steam off a meat pie.

            Draco struggled madly not to simply bite and have done. It would win him the blood, but it would not win him the power. And neither would he have the control of Potter that he was coming to need, in the way that the books had said he would. The need for the Long-Desired was a potential weakness, which was why many vampires did not have them; they would proudly reject the notion of leaning on a mortal. But meet the right one, said the books, and pride did not matter. Or rather, the vampires had to satisfy their pride by establishing ownership over that one particular mortal.

            Potter managed to shift his right wrist. Indulgently, Draco allowed it, knowing that Potter still could not escape. He had discovered in the books at the Manor how to rearrange his flesh and muscle so that the finger Potter had taken would grow back; he was still the more powerful and knowledgeable one in this situation.

            And then he shrieked as something like a snake of fire ran across his hand and up his wrist to his shoulder, horribly hot and horribly quick. He tried to pull back, but his fingers stayed in place, unwilling to release their prize when he had gone through so much effort to capture Potter.

            So the snake seared him again, and again, and again. Draco shrieked again, but this time turned so that his voice traveled directly into Potter’s ear. At least he would share some of the misery. Potter flinched and jerked in Draco’s arms.

            The pain faded quickly. Draco decided it had been meant to make him back away, so Potter could reach a stronger weapon, and so was not very powerful. He lowered his mouth back to Potter’s ear and shot out his tongue to lick the lobe. The way Potter flinched did his pride no good at all. He wanted Potter to loll his head back and groan.

            “Listen to me,” he whispered. “I have the information. I will give it to you, and I will assist you in the hunt. In return, I will have your blood—” He wanted to continue the sentence, And your body, as he’d planned, but his pride went into a violent clash with the instincts that made him keep the Long-Desired, then, and he had to pause. Demanding too much at once would only cause Potter to reject him.

            “One drink of blood,” he finished at last. “That’s all I want.”

*

            Harry trembled with the need to fight. He wanted to break out of Malfoy’s arms, turn, and destroy him. The bracelet of garlic-infused rope around his wrist hadn’t worked, but it had hurt him. Malfoy was still young, unprotected by age-hardened skin the way that some of the master vampires were later in unlife. Harry knew that the medallion could kill him if used long enough, or the medallion and the spear in combination.

            But Malfoy had said he could lead Harry to the nest.

            He hated the feel of the cold tongue touching him, and the cold lips behind that. So far, Malfoy hadn’t laid a fang on him, but Harry knew they weren’t far away. He could feel Malfoy’s trembling eagerness to bite down and drain. Of course, he would have a nasty surprise if he tried, since Harry, immune to the thrall, could fight in a way normal victims couldn’t, but the very notion of his trying and succeeding made Harry shake with revulsion.

            But if he gave in mindlessly to such emotions and did only what his body wanted him to, he was no better than a vampire surrendering to its instincts because it felt right, and good, and never matter what was right and good.

            Malfoy wanted to court him. Malfoy wanted him to agree to a deeper partnership of his own free will. That gave Harry a unique hold over him that he couldn’t have over any other vampire. And certainly no other vampire would seek so eagerly to betray its own kind for a mortal.

            Harry could trust Malfoy as far as the blood would hold him. That meant he could taunt and tease and tempt, too. And that was a tactic he had used before with nest leaders, like Caspar, to convince them he was under their thrall, and with great success.

            Malfoy would know that he wasn’t under the thrall, of course, unlike Caspar, but that shouldn’t matter. In the end, he was a vampire, and arrogance was his downfall.

            And Harry’s own disgust about what he had to do mattered less than a speck of dust next to the chance to save innocent lives.

            “Very well,” he said. “You can have your drink when we face the nest.”

            “No,” Malfoy whispered, and his voice was the grave’s voice. His arms tightened suggestively around Harry, as if he would either spill him to his back or break his neck. More arrogance, Harry thought. None of them can resist the chance to remind you of their power, even when it would be more to their advantage to keep it concealed. “Now.” And this time the point of a fang pressed like a needle against Harry’s neck.

            “Later, or I give up the bargain,” Harry said flatly. “You’re more likely to need it when we’re hunting the nest, given how powerful it seems they are. And you don’t get more than one.”

            Malfoy paused. Then the hold around him slackened. Harry stepped away at once, wrapped his fingers around the sun medallion, and turned about, more than ready this time to use it if Malfoy should prove uncooperative.

            “Tell me why they’re so strong,” he said.

            Malfoy stared at him in silence, face inhumanly still. Then he smiled, and, given that his fangs had folded down from the roof of his mouth, that was worse. It looked as though a lash had split his face, and the fangs shone in the moonlight like blood dripping down from the cut.

            “The books I read agree that only one explanation is possible,” Malfoy said calmly. “A master vampire and his or her fully tamed Long-Desired are working together, and they must have a bond of mutual love and trust. Doing that, they can shatter the strongest spells and batter down any magical protection.” He flashed his fangs and waited for Harry to draw the obvious conclusion.

            And Harry did draw it.

            I have no choice but to give him my blood and my power, if we’re to defeat them.

*

            Draco was glad that Potter had turned around, despite the possible danger from his weapons, if only so that Draco could laugh aloud at the look of mingled disgust, horror, and self-loathing on his face.

            He could wait for Potter’s blood, even more, even now. He was hungry, yes, but Potter would have to give in, and that would give Draco the chance to establish dominion over him as the books had said he could once he had one willing surrender, and then…

            And then I shall never go hungry again.

*

            SP777: There’s at least one more part after this one, so I didn’t want to wait until October.

            And yes, you’re right. Harry is not going to ‘surrender’ no matter how much Draco wants him to and thinks he should.

            This will probably be eight or nine parts.

            acr: Thanks! And yes, I see what you mean. This is deliberately more action-oriented; Harry and Draco won’t come together in any typical pattern of romance. Harry is too dedicated to hunting vampires to give that up and let Draco woo him, even if he was all right with having a vampire lover in the first place.

            Thrnbrooke: Thanks!
- 1
- 2
- 3
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

Viper