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Night Flight	By : Massanie Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 77567 -:- Recommendations : 6 -:- Currently Reading : 30
Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me and I'm not making any money with this story

Chapter List
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CHAPTER 2: Midnight Call

CHAPTER NOTES:

Thank you very, very much for all the nice reviews, I really enjoyed reading them!

And I dearly hope you won't be confused for long, all will be explained in due time...

Malfoy Manor was currently the place of another, not necessarily less important although certainly less dramatic event: the engagement party of Draco Lucius Malfoy and Blaise Alain Zabini.

The news had come as quite a shocking surprise to Britain’s wizarding society, after all it had been merely a week prior that Draco Malfoy and his mother had been acquitted from their charges. Even more surprising for their closer friends and relatives was that it had been Blaise who had proposed to his long-time friend and lover. Equally as beautiful as his mother, he was just as reserved as she was – at least around most people – and it had been the general opinion that if one of them would dare to take that next step, it would be Draco and not Blaise.

When it was rumoured that the attractive Italian had taken the Malfoy heir to one of his family’s estates in Italy immediately after the trial, obviously having correctly anticipated the results, most of their pureblood relatives and friends were therefore rightfully surprised; more so when Narcissa Malfoy began – just the following day – to extend invitations for her son’s engagement party, to be held in Malfoy Manor.

But then again, it was the second full moon after both of their 222nd and therefore the perfect date for such an occasion; even if Lucius Malfoy himself was not yet released from all of his charges. But really, that was just a matter of time anyway and as long as the Malfoy patron was able to attend – and he could, being conveniently under house arrest by force of an Unbreakable Vow until his own trial someday at the end of the month – one could ignore that unfortunate circumstance.

It was already past midnight and the circle of friends and family members had long since withdrawn to one of the manor’s larger and more festive parlours, a large, brightly illuminated room that reached out into the gardens behind the manor, visible through the impressive window front.

That particular parlour was one of Narcissa’s masterpieces, one she had completely redesigned in a neoclassical style after she had wedded into the Malfoy family. Richly decorated, white pillars separated the tall windows that reached up to the high ceiling that in itself was covered by delicately chiselled mouldings. The aesthetic wallpaper, the curtains and the furniture’s upholstery were of different soft shades of green, blending together beautifully and the settees, arm chairs, the tea tables and other more decorative pieces of furniture were made of a pale wood with intricate carvings.

It was what Narcissa privately called ‘her arena’, the place where she could show just how gifted a social tactician she was. And indeed, mostly thanks to her the evening had so far been a full success: Narcissa was seemingly everywhere at once, steering conversations away from critical topics while ostensibly by chance highlighting aspects of her guests that other’s would find interesting (which normally meant profitable) enough to be polite, as well as ensuring that the more difficult personalities did not come in too direct contact with each other. That, coupled with the fact that both families were highly influential in and on themselves and very much interested in improving their own political and societal standing through each other made the evening quite productive and enjoyable and both Blaise and Draco were very much relieved that their respective families seemed to get along just fine.

The evening, however, was drawing to a close and the newly engaged couple was just returning from seeing off the first of their guests – a great-aunt of Blaise’s and her husband – when Draco saw a house elf levitating a salver with a missive lying on the shining surface towards his father, the elf itself standing unobtrusively at one side of the large parlour and his interest peaked. The house elves had been directed to not disturb the party with any matter that could not be resolved in the morning, and that meant, it was something pressing.

Attentively, Draco watched as his father excused himself from the conversation with Blaise’s mother, Amalyne Zabini, and stepped aside to unfold the small piece of parchment, his mouth tightening in irritation as his eyes scanned the content. Then a moment later he glanced around the room and Draco followed his movements with narrowed eyes as his father strode over to his mother, gracefully manoeuvring around their guests.

Gently, he touched her at the elbow to draw her attention and whispered something in her ear. Narcissa drew back, watching her pale blonde husband intently for a few moments before inclining her head.

And with that, Lucius Malfoy turned and left the room.

Draco frowned, his curiosity getting the better of him. But he was very much aware of Blaise’s presence next to him and why they were both here. This was their engagement party, one he couldn’t just leave.

Supressing a sigh, Draco turned just to find his boyfriend smirking at him with barely concealed amusement. No, his fiancé, he reminded himself with a smile; after three years of calling him the former, that would take some readjusting.

His smile widened as Blaise pulled him closer, locking his arms around his waist, and leaned forwards to murmur lowly against his ear “Go on if you’d like.”

Draco merely cocked his head at his lover in mock offence, evading the other’s heady closeness. “I’m not in the habit of following or sneaking after my father…”

“Then let us go together.” Blaise said softly, knowing that his lover didn’t want anyone to hear of his concern for his father that he himself perceived as weakness and his warm eyes searched Draco’s pale, grey ones. “He seemed a little bit tense and I know you will be, too, until you’ve assured yourself that it’s nothing.”

“I don’t…”

“Come on, it’s not as if they would miss us.”

“Not yet." Draco relented. "But the first are about to leave and we have to see them off. It’s fine, really!” he added, when Blaise began to object.

“This is our engagement party, Blaise, come and let’s enjoy it.” And with that he steered his fiancé back towards their guests.

Lucius Malfoy stepped into his study and almost sneered in irritation at seeing the head of a young wizard in the fire place. An unremarkable man with straggly, dirty-blond hair and a nervous flicker in his eyes that showed how uncomfortable he was in the presence of the former Death Eater in front of him. ’As he should be’ Lucius thought indignantly.

“Healer McAuley I believe?” He asked, forcing indifference into his voice or else it might drip with disgust. He inclined his head slightly as he crossed the room and sat down in the leather-upholstered armchair in front of the fire place.

“Mediwizard, Mr Malfoy." The young man corrected. "I am very sorry to disturb you.”

He almost stuttered and it was so painfully obvious that he couldn’t bring himself to meet the Malfoy patriarch’s steely gaze that Lucius felt his lips tighten again and quite impatiently, he waved for the other to continue. “I’m afraid I do not have much time, mediwizard McAuley, we have guests.”

“Yes, of course, I’m sorry. Your son’s engagement party, isn’t it? I read it in the announcement you made in the Daily Prophet…”

“Indeed,” Lucius drawled. “So, how may I be of assistance?”

The way the brunet took a deep breath told Lucius that this was going to be a long monologue full of evasions and unsatisfactory excuses. He almost sighed at the prospect.

“As a matter of fact I contact you because of your position as representative of the Vykélari community in Britain…”

Lucius allowed himself to raise an eyebrow in surprise and leaned forward ever so slightly. Well, now that brat had his undivided attention.

“… you see, this evening we had an emergency. A young man. Showed signs of magical exhaustion, his senses had shut down: vision, hearing, smell, tactile sense; taste might have, too, we're not sure yet. Tested for curses, but negative. That lasted for about ha…”

“If you would come straight to the point.” Lucius interrupted, but he knew already where this was heading. A new Vykélari had come into his inheritance; one who hadn’t known beforehand that he even bore the genes. And it made him furious that those imbeciles of St Mungo’s hadn’t alerted him earlier when the youth had come in. Now that boy had been locked in his own body with no means of communication or knowing what went on for almost four hours – since the moon had risen.

That one was one of his own kind, an endangered race, for Merlin’s sake!

But that irritation paled in contrast to his curiosity. For centuries all Vykélari lines had carefully been tracked, every new-born registered. Either a grave mistake had been made or one of the lost lines had been reactivated. And so he found himself quickly intrigued by the initially unwelcome interruption to his son’s engagement party.

“Yes, yes of course. I’m sorry Mr Malfoy…” If that impertinent fool would stop apologizing so much, he might be faster in getting his point across, Lucius thought impatiently; he needed more information...

“He shows many signs of a Vykélari transformation, but not all of them, so w-we, we were unsure, and the change is too slow, and he has not grown at all, so we thought it was a curse, b-but he started growing wings and, and Healer Cowan still thinks he is not a fledging Vykélari, because his claws and canines are much too small and the markings on his forehead and around his eyes and on his body in general are somehow wrong, but I still think we shouldn’t rule the possibility out without any proof and I finally decided to go against his…”

“McAuley!” Lucius interrupted the flood of words, his voice harsh and firm, his eyes cold and hard and so utterly piercing. The brunet mediwizard fell silent.

“At the moment I cannot leave the manor, as you might be aware of.” He smoothly said as if the matter of his trial at the end of the month was just a minor interruption to his every day routine. ”But the fledgeling must be in the company of other Vykélari to survive his transformation. You have to bring him here to Malfoy Manor.”

“We cannot do that, Mr Malfoy” McAuley murmured, hesitating to look into the blonde’s grey eyes.

“And why is that?” Lucius growled inauspiciously.

“He is violent and completely throws off any charms at the moment. His magic keeps lashing out at anyone coming too close and his claws, they … Mr Malfoy they are poisonous. He struck one of the other mediwizards before we managed to constrain him. The poison affected the blood coagulation. We’re still pouring blood replenishing potions into him, but the wounds just won’t stop bleeding and …”

“Then he can’t be a Vykélari. Our claws are not poisonous.”

“Couldn’t you send someone? He is growing weaker by the minute. At this rate he won’t last the night… ”

Idly, Lucius wondered why people still tried to play on his non-existent compassionate side. One might think the lack of success would deter people from making the effort. And yet, he might have given in in this case; with his trial so close at hand he could have used some positive publicity to his advantage, but as it stood now…

“I’m afraid I can’t help you, as your superior seems to be right: he can’t be one of my kind.”

“But I know I read about a Vykélari once that poisoned his enemies…” the young wizard insisted.

Lucius almost smirked, a hint of respect glinting in his silver eyes. It seemed the boy was not as stupid as he appeared to be; few knew about that long-lost trait.

“You are right, submissive ones did indeed have that ability. But the last active line became extinct over 200 years ago, only having brought forth female descendants.” It was a pity, really, that the Vykélari genes were Y-linked and therefore could only be given to a male. No daughter could inherit them and therefore become a Vykélari or even transmit the genes to the next generation. Both submissive and dominant Vykélari were therefore essentially male in appearance, even though the submissive ones were able to bear children themselves.

“There have been other inactive lines bearing the submissive traits that brought forth a line of male descendants who were however not powerful enough to induce the submissive inheritance.” Lucius continued his explanation in a haughty tone of voice. The transformation on the 222nd full moon of a young fledgeling was a highly precarious and straining event that only the magical powerful would be able to survive. And therefore the body of someone with the necessary Vykélari genes would only allow the genes’ activation and therefore the induction of the transformation if there was a possibility of survival. That Lucius himself was an active Vykélari was proof of his outstanding magical strength – even before his transformation; He had lesser features that he was proud of, this was simply something that made him distinctly superior to others, something that should be acknowledged.

”But we only follow those inactive lines into the 7th generation. If the trait has not come forth until then, the line is declared extinct. I think one of the last families whose blood was weakened enough for that was the Potter line, three generations ago we finally declared the line lost.” A small smile played over Lucius’ thin lips. It never failed to amuse him that the one to kill the Dark Lord – one of the most powerful wizards of his time – was someone whose family had grown so weak that it had lost the ability to reap the fruits of their pure blood.

‘Who would have thought that the boy would win the war in the end?’ Lucius thought somewhat wistfully; had he suspected that highly unlikely possibility he might have reconsidered his allegiances.

He was drawn from his thoughts however, as that insufferable mediwizard licked over his lips nervously and all but breathed his name almost reverently “Mr Malfoy…”

Lucius raised an eyebrow, reconsidering his earlier assessment. Maybe the youth was as stupid as he seemed.

“This is about a Potter, Mr Malfoy, Harry Potter.”

It was a good thing that Lucius was already sitting.

“I’m sending someone over. For now keep away from him and don’t agitate him further…”

When Lucius Malfoy returned to the parlour, most of the guests had luckily already made their farewells. Thank Merlin that this was not a formal dinner party crowded with untrustworthy cadgers and leeches. These were family members and trusted friends.

But then again, this might be even worse in the current situation. Some of them were Vykélari dominants themselves, or were in contact with others of their kind. The news of a submissive fledging at that very moment might be disastrous for his plans.

The fledgeling. It was easier to think of the boy as that, instead of thinking of ‘Harry Potter’ the Brat-With-The-Audacity-To-Live. As always where that nuisance was concerned, fate was there to taunt him. It would have been so much easier if he had just had the grace to die that first time the Dark Lord came after him, but then again, the Potter line would not have been reactivated. Nonetheless, there were other lost lines, why by Salazar Slytherin, couldn’t it have been someone else?

Well, it couldn’t be helped, he guessed, and he would be damned if the boy would strengthen another family but his own. It was after all the first time that Mr Potter proved to be useful for something, Lucius mused with a small smirk, he shouldn’t take that chance from him now, should he?

Intently, with a quite pleasant thrill of anticipation in his silver eyes, he scanned the room for another head of hair as pale as his own. There.

Draco and Blaise stood together with both of their mothers, perfect. He couldn’t wait to break the news and it was actually a pity that they had guests and he wouldn’t be able to witness their more unguarded, open reactions. Whatever he told them would not shake the masks of indifference on their faces, that perfect emotional control. They were Malfoys, after all, and Zabinis of course. But that couldn’t be helped either as time was of the essence right now, after all he didn't want the submissive to take actual harm.

All four of them looked up as he strode over to them, a sly smirk on his narrow lips. Once or twice he had to excuse himself as other guests tried to engage him in conversation until he came to stand next to the formidable quartet.

Both Draco and Blaise had an undeniable resemblance to their mothers, even after their inheritance which had left them three inches taller and the muscles on their arms and torso more defined if still lean. Their features which had always been finely chiselled in a way, seemed harder now, not as delicate but more exotic with high cheekbones and square jaws, Blaise maybe a little bit more so than Draco.

No, the resemblance to their mothers was more due to a certain dangerous, natural elegance and grace in their posture and every movement. They were predators, just like Lucius himself.

A fine son-in-law, an even finer son (in his opinion). If anyone should get the power-boost of mating a submissive, it was them. Alas, if he wasn’t happily married himself… but then he remembered that the submissive in question was Harry Potter; and really the boy couldn’t compare to Narcissa’s ruthless beauty and her cruel wit that he loved so much. He probably wouldn’t be able to suffer that saviour-complex all the time and that might lead to a massacre. No, Narcissa was perfect for him, he thought, grazing her with his eyes.

Lucius’ smirk widened almost unnoticeable as he saw the unvoiced questions behind his wife’s piercing eyes, knowing she was too proud to give in and word them. Hmm, but there was no time for teasing at the moment. What a pity.

“I just got very interesting news from St Mungo’s. As it seems a new Vykélari from one of the lost lines has just come into his inheritance.”

Four sets of eyes watched him carefully, trying to gauge him but unable to and that knowledge was almost as good as seeing the unhidden surprise on their faces would they have been without company.

“Which line?” Draco asked, his lips barely moving.

“A submissive.” Lucius answered, looking out for the brief flash of surprise that he knew he would see in his son’s eyes and hiding his smugness as he did.

”The poor thing is unaware of that fact, not having regained his senses as of yet. He will need to be brought to the Manor, of course. I would ask the two of you to get him, seeing as that is impossible for me.”

Draco and Blaise briefly locked gazes. They knew what a mating would entail of course and it was obvious that the Malfoy patron intended for them to make the submissive theirs, but the time was extremely inconvenient. Even knowing that a submissive would ultimately allow a deeper bond to form between themselves and increase their magical power many times over, even though the submissive would ensure a maintenance of their family line without having to adopt, did they want to put their engagement under the stress of forcing someone into their life, into their bed?

They were blessed enough to have escaped an arranged marriage and be allowed to be with the one they loved. Their relationship had not always been easy as Blaise and Draco were naturally dominant because of their heritage but they had been fine. Forcing an unwilling third partner into a mating bond might destroy all the peace they had fought for and they were not too keen on the strife that was bound to erupt if they didn’t keep a tight control on the submissive, which was not what they wanted.

Lucius might have enjoyed dominating someone or using his instincts against him to subdue him, but Draco did not and neither did Blaise, at least not someone meant to be a spouse.

“Who is it?” Blaise asked, his arm coming to rest around Draco’s waist in a search for closeness, with the other hand he brought his glass to his lips, sipping the exquisite wine.

“Harry Potter.”

Blaise cursed the Malfoy patriarch’ sadistic streak with the little breath he had as he choked on his wine and felt his shock and surprise echoed in the small flinch of his fiancé’s shoulders, before he managed to disentangle his arm and cover his mouth as he coughed.

Next to him, Draco leaned forward abruptly and hissed. “We cannot do that. I can’t.”

“And why is that?” His father asked, one eyebrow raised curiously.

“I owe him a life-debt! I cannot possibly repay that by forcing him to mate!”

“I didn’t say anything about that, Draco.” His father drawled in a pointless, futile attempt of appearing innocent.

Draco merely sneered back “Of course not…”

“The words you always put into my mouth…” Lucius smirked.

“Besides,” Narcissa spoke up, her tone soft and complacent, “he owes me one as well.”

“Be that as it may,” Lucius said, taking over the conversation again, ”at the moment he is using up his magic for his transformation and it seems he wasn’t as well-rested as a Vykélari fledgeling should be before it started. That and the fact that those imbeciles of healers and mediwizards have agitated him enough to make his magic turn its focus from the transformation and retaliate, well, … he is more weakened than he should be.

The healers fear he won’t survive the night. You can repay your debt by bringing him here: between you and Blaise you should be able to control and guide his raging magic and keep it from lashing out against everyone else.”

“Why don’t you bring him here and I organize a portkey to our mansion in Italy?” Amalyne spoke up, her voice deep and calm and almost purring. ”You know the uncle of Blaise’s father is a healer with some experience on Vykélari.”

Of course he would be, seeing as Blaise’s father had been a Vykélari himself; It had been a surprise initially that they wanted to stay in contact after his sudden and very tragic death, but for Blaise’s sake, of course, they had.

It would be perfect: a beautiful, large villa with a spacious park, including a large pool and access to the beach all of which were guarded by a dizzying amount of privacy spells and actually belonged to Blaise as a part of his father’s heritage. It was perfect in every way. And after a few days, Amalyne was certain that nature and instincts would do their part to resolve the issue. Such power … it had to belong to her family. Not to mention the improvement in reputation it might entail. The Boy-Who-Lived forever bound to her family.

It was a sentiment that Lucius and Narcissa obviously shared as they smiled at Amalyne in a way that would make a shark go green with envy.

“What a wonderful idea!” Narcissa cooed dangerously, her eyes glinting.

“Now, you really should go.” Lucius said with a smirk. “I told them to leave the boy alone but still…”

Glaring at his mother and future parents-in-law, Blaise tapped his wine glass with his wand lightly, a bell-like sound filling the room. “May I have your attention for a few moments, please? Thank you. It was a wonderful evening, thank you all for coming and celebrating the news of our engagement with us. Unfortunately at the moment a new Vykélari is unexpectedly fledging without elder supervision and both Draco and I are required to help him through the transition as Lucius’ substitutes. We therefore bid you all farewell and a good homeward journey. Again, thank you all for coming and for your gracious gifts.”

Just letting Blaise finish his little speech, Draco took his hand and, with a last glare at his parents and Blaise’s mother, he tugged his olive-skinned fiancé into the direction of the reception room and the fire-place there, without so much as a glance back at their guests. He was positively seething.

CHAPTER END NOTES:

Again thank you very much for reading. I hope you liked this chapter, at least it was much longer than the first...
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Night Flight