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Intangible	By : ChimaeraChan Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 9795 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-CH1
- 2-CH2
- 3-CH3
- 4-CH4
- 5-CH5
- 6-CH6
- 7-CH7
- 8-CH8
- 9-CH9
- 10-CH10
- 11-CH11
- 12-CH12
- 13-CH13
- 14-CH14
- 15-CH15
- 16-CH16
- 17-CH17
- 18-CH18
- 19-CH19
- 20-CH20
- 21-CH21
- 22-CH22
- 23-CH23
- 24-CH24
- 25-Ch25
- 21
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Chapter Twenty-Two

Hermione had found what she presumed was the resting place of the sleeping Kalistar. The Vesper did not guard the room the way she had assumed they would, but she had been right in her guess that they did keep the creature safe. The Kalistar rested in the center of the village, in the unique building set up to house their new halfling. Deep in a hand carved underground basement there was a tomb. Hermione could only assume what dwelled, hopefully asleep, in that tomb, because she could not find a way to get inside.
“I just want to see the creature,” Hermione said reasonably, downstairs in the large entrance chamber that led out into the village, the afternoon air warm as it flowed in on the breeze. Haille's expression did not agree with her tone. She rolled her eyes but would not seek any of the other shifters out. Haille had been the most agreeable to her. He barely even referred to her as human anymore. He was her best bet in getting what she wanted, she just needed to wear him down a bit. Hopefully with help from Malfoy.
“It is dangerous,” Haille warned, huffing when Hermione snorted derisively. “The Kalistar is a powerful force and has been known to respond to human energy. I just don't feel it is wise.”
“Have you woken it up before, then? Or... has it woken up on its own?” Hermione asked, her curiosity peaking. Maybe if she just hung out enough in the basement the Kalistar would just wake up from her presence...
“Not in our village, no,” Haille said gruffly, glaring at the girl as if he could read her thoughts. “But incidences have happened. Usually when humans have encroached on a village. The Kalistar are so intent on protecting the foolish mortals.”
“Foolish?” Hermione scoffed. “You do realize you all look like a bunch of beautiful, if not a bit battle-scarred, men, right?”
“Yes, and we hold our tribes in the middle of extremely dangerous, monster riddled magical forests,” Haille shot back. “Any human that would approach our village is either here to attack us or are just complete imbeciles that deserve the painful deaths they receive.”
Hermione sighed, raising her eyebrows and shrugging. She could hardly disagree with the logic of it. “Your Kalistar doesn't seem to agree.”
“Yes, well there was an entire village that did, and we won.” Done with the conversation, Haille stepped out into the village, the canopy of sheets above turning the center into a carnival of colors. Hermione followed, not even remotely ready to give up. She would see the Kalistar. She had grown to like the Vesper these last few days and the more the dragons returned home, freshly wounded, the more she knew something had to be done.
Malfoy agreed, but in a distracted manner. He didn't want to tell the Vesper what to do, he was just happy to be there. Hermione had a sinking suspicion that Draco would not want to return to Hogwarts once the tour was over. She would do her best to persuade him, but seeing the boy among the Vesper each day, she knew he had found a home. Even now, approaching as Kore taught him how to balance a spear, the boy looked more relaxed and happy than Hermione could ever remember seeing him. He'd have to be, because Hermione was fairly certain Malfoys did not hunt with spears.
“Malfoy, I need your help with something,” Hermione said before Haille could even open his mouth. The shifter narrowed his pretty violet eyes at her but that was it. The man was a damn pussy cat, scars and all.
Draco brightened at her arrival, pointing down the way where a target was set up, two spears already piercing the cloth covered blocks of hay. “Not quite the side of a barn but I did manage to hit it. Twice.”
Hermione shook her head at another show of manly display that only seemed to get worse the more the Vesper insisted on hugging Draco. Draco was even dressing like them, wearing a pair of loose fitting pants and just a light vest to cover his chest, his feet bare. The boy had even managed to get himself a nice gash on his stomach, although Hermione didn't think it was to match, so much as, Draco just kept getting distracted by pawing shifters. As if to prove her point, Haille suddenly swooped down, wrapping the boy tight in his embrace, Draco only making the slightest of squawks in protest as he nearly dropped the spear on his foot.
“You're learning very fast, lovely halfling. Soon you will be skilled enough to travel the forest with us. There is so much to see out here.”
Draco nodded, blushing slightly when Haille kissed his cheek. “Yes... well... I don't want to be stuck in the village all the time...” He lifted his head, questioning look turned to Hermione. “What did you need help with?”
Hermione watched Haille settle behind Draco, the man's arms wrapped around the boy's waist. If he thought that was going to keep her from getting Draco to help, he had another thing coming. “I found the Kalistar. The sleeping one. It's actually right under the halfling house.”
“Oh,” Draco blinked, his mind turning. “I'd like to meet it.”
Hermione grinned triumphant but Haille only shrugged when Draco looked back imploringly. “Sorry, little one. None of us have the power alone to wake the creature. It must be a unified decision, the same as putting it to sleep. And seeing as you have gotten your call under control, there is little reason for it.”
“Even if it would stop all the fighting?” Hermione asked in frustration. “How can you just sit back and let your dragons keep getting injured?”
“We are not letting them,” Kore broke in, the man extremely tall and broad shouldered. “We fight back as good as we get.”
“Yes, because that's helping things,” Hermione muttered. “If I have kids and they start getting brutally wounded, I'm totally going to care that at least they managed to equally maim their attackers. You need to talk to these people. Negotiate. Let them see that you're, well, people. Reasonable people—except when it comes to humans, yes, I've gathered that,” Hermione added with a frustrated sigh.
“You need to give them some time,” Draco said after a moment. “You can't expect them to change everything overnight. They're just getting used to me. They know I want to interact with humans and have promised to make that possible.”
“Eventually,” Haille added. “We will need to set up defenses to protect us all; humans and Vesper.”
“Wouldn't it just be easier to let the Kalistar do that?” Hermione asked. “Isn't that part of its job?”
Kore and Haille exchanged uneasy glances. “The Kalistar are not... forgiving creatures, human,” Kore explained. “They are dominant, aggressive and difficult to control. There is a reason each village only has one. They will war with each other, sometimes divide entire villages while fighting for control. Most young Kalistar are cast out by their own when they are born, just to prevent this. They are difficult.”
Draco inhaled sharply, pulling away from Haille to stare at the two shifters in disbelief. “You exile them? You throw them away like... like something less than garbage?”
“The Kalistar used to, yes,” Haille said, a pained expression on his face. “Now we have them sleep. It has been the kindest compromise we could make.”
“I don't understand,” Hermione broke in. “I was told the Kalistar protected humans. That they protected the halflings and helped control them. How could the same creature—the one that supposedly tried to get humans and Vesper to stop fighting, be also so dangerous and terrible? It doesn't make sense.”
“We are creatures of duality,” Kore said flatly. “We fight our beast nature when it suits us. The Kalistar... when that creature loses to the beast, its power is too great to fight. It can pull us so much that we become nothing more than raving, howling madness.”
Haille nodded, gently grabbing Draco's hand. “You have seen it, halfling, with your own call. Think if you had done that intentionally to Matten and the young ones? Because you wanted something so great you didn't care who had to bend. Without someone to balance the Kalistar, the creature is just too powerful to be trusted.”
Draco nodded, not fully understanding. Because Matten had told him the halflings balanced the Kalistar, and with Draco here that should have been enough. But the shifters didn't seem to want to wake the creature even then. Maybe they didn't think Draco was staying...
Draco wanted to finish school. It was just a few more months. Then he'd figure out what he was going to do with the Vesper. Matten had mentioned again about Draco being an ambassador. He didn't know if that's what he wanted—Just that he was tired of worrying about the Vesper being hurt. His week was nearly over, and twice the dragons had returned, bloody and crying in pain. At least Draco and Hermione had been able to heal them. But he would rather that they were never hurt in the first place.
“With Malfoy here, wouldn't it be safe to wake up the Kalistar?” Hermione asked, having wondered the same thing Draco had.
Again the shifters exchanged unreadable looks. Kore spoke, his voice a low growl. “They are not forgiving.”
Hermione was not one for theatrics. “Can you at least let me in the tomb? Just to see it?”
Haille snorted, the girl's persistence amusing, if not appealing. “Take her to Matten, halfling. He can let her in the chamber.”
Triumphant, Hermione quickly dragged a grumpy Draco down towards the huts where she had last seen Matten heading.

Hermione was brimming with desire to get back down to the tomb of the Kalistar. Draco watched her out of the corner of his eye as they all sat on the dais, her leg twitching as she shoveled dinner and wrote scratchy notes into her notebook. The girl had lost all fear of the Vesper and he was grateful that the villagers had only goodwill towards her. It gave him hope that things could change for the pack with a little work.
He had gone down to the chamber to see the Kalistar and had refused to go back again. The creature was a larger version of Karia, his pet when he was young. He had never seen one, but with his eyes closed, fingers hovering over the golden dragon with wide antlers and long legs, he had known the truth. Karia had been one of the exiled Vesper, thrown away by her pack because there had already been a Kalistar ruling. She had sought Draco out because she hadn't wanted to be alone and he was a halfling. She had protected him even before he had known he needed protecting. And then she had grown ill from the sparking, and without a pack to help her, she had died while Draco was at school. Alone.
Things had to change. Draco didn't know how, but he knew it couldn't stay this way. Karia had been sweet, gentle and kind. The Vesper had said the Kalistar grew fierce once puberty hit, especially the males, but Draco just couldn't believe it. There had to be a better solution than having the creatures sleep their entire life away.
“You are sad, Draco,” Matten observed, Draco only nodding in reply. He had finished eating ages ago, staring into the flames instead, hoping to make sense of it all. Karia had been this faint, special memory in Draco's mind. She had been his one true companion so very long ago. He had never known she had suffered so much in such a short lifetime. He had understood so little back then.
Matten shifted closer, pulling Draco into his embrace and holding the boy in his lap. Draco closed his eyes as Matten hummed to him, a few of the shifters on the dais joining in while they lounged in the summer night air on pillows and furs. Nights were easier now that Draco's call was under control. It was even safe for him to visit the others under the canopy, listening to some of their stories. With a lot of farmers in the village, Draco heard the best stories. There was something about rooting in the dirt all day that gave you time to think of fanciful things, or so, that was how Seles had explained it.
“Hmm... you're glowing again, sweet halfling... Is it already so late in the evening?” Matten teased, fingers caressing up and down Draco's arms.
“I am not the moon, Matten,” Draco grumbled, head falling back against the man's chest. “For all I know, I'm actually quite ugly and tanned in my other form.”
“For all you know, perhaps. But certainly not the case. You are glowing because you are content.” He brushed his lips to Draco's ear. “You are comfortable with us. Happy for so much touch. And when you are happy, we cannot help but be happy too.”
Draco nodded lightly in agreement, staring up at Matten's chin. The man had the faintest nick right where his chin turned towards his throat, just visible in the low lighting. Draco let his eyes flicker to the side, the shifters on the dais sliding smooth skinned to the ground, silvery hair shimmering waterfalls of silk. Draco glowing meant shifters touching. Something Draco was growing used to. Even anticipating.
“Do you wish to retreat inside?” Matten asked, chin resting on the top of Draco's head.
Draco shrugged. He was comfortable enough. “Only if you want. I'm sure you must feel left out, babysitting me every night.”
“It is an honor.”
“It's a chore. I'm not a fool, Matten,” Draco muttered with a huff, sick and tired of everyone trying to act like everything he did was so bloody brilliant. Matten purred softly, Draco's irritation fading as quickly as it had come. He closed his eyes again, feeling the man's chest rumble ever so lightly beneath him. He could hear the others, soft, heated moans in the darkness of his eyelids. He smiled, more warm, tingling tendrils flowing over his skin.
“It is an honor to watch you, Draco,” Matten whispered, brushing the boy's hair from his face. “It is a gift to be able to touch you, even just to hold you.”
“Stop flattering me...” Draco murmured, smiling wider as fingers began to touch tentatively down his neck. “Haille, I have warned you of what I will do if you insist on touching me there.”
Haille gave a soft snort from the right of him, touching Draco's neck more boldly. “Sink your little dull teeth into me, halfling. See if I care. You make the nicest noises when I touch here and that is what I want.”
“You say that now... but wait till Granger hears...” Draco warned weakly, fire slowly rising up his skin. God, he missed sex. He missed Harry, he missed hard, wild touch, and he missed being fucked.
“Oh, lovely one, the little witch ran off to see our sleeping friend. There is no one to protect you from the big, bad Vesper...” Hearing snickering at Haille's taunting words, Draco opened his eyes up, blinking as he looked around in the firelight. Hermione had left, likely to study the Kalistar deep in the basement, the ditzy Gryffindor. Staring back at him were a dozen hungry shifters, most twisting on the dais as they chuckled at Draco's expression. Three very familiar and wickedly smiling faces leaned right beside him. Draco glanced from Matten, Haille and Zyan, his smile fading.
“Well crap,” he whispered hoarsely. He peered up where Matten was smiling down, the man's hands holding Draco lightly but firmly in place. “I thought hugging was all this was about. Didn't we decide...?”
“We decided that you needed to have the things that made you call, so that you would not drive us all mad,” Matten said carefully. “You have been getting so bright these last few nights. It has been difficult... very difficult...”
Draco closed his eyes again, wishing he could deny it. He hadn't dared touch himself after the fiasco the last time. His body had become near aching with want. Especially at night, the Vesper's scent so strong in the air. Ever since Harry had returned, Draco had become this strange, sexual being that just couldn't get enough. He had allowed himself to linger outside with the Vesper, indulging in as much of the noises and scents he had liked, sometimes even sights when he was feeling brave. But that was the furtherest Draco had thought he was willing to go with this particular theme.
“Will it get as bad as... as the last time?” Draco asked, already knowing the answer if they had felt the need to swarm him so.
“It is just a touch... Just skin touching skin...” Matten said soothingly, fingers moving over Draco's arms again. “No one will have you... I give you my word.”
Draco sighed internally. Even with the boy near dead, the Vesper were terrified of Harry and his claim on Draco. It was a wonder they hadn't killed Potter, now that Draco understood how dangerous halflings were to the Vesper if not properly contained. Draco was lucky Matten had been so upstanding... Even in this, Draco knew he could trust the man.
Eyes held shut, Draco did not flinch the next time Haille touched his neck, fingers lighting over him in soft strokes. He allowed himself to sink, Matten relaxing around him, pulling him close while gently humming in his ear. Zyan, hands firm and sure, pressed into Draco's sides, dragging down slowly, the boy's hips rising up to meet the touch.
“Oh god... okay... just... ha... Oh hell...” Draco mumbled, whimpering as he lost track of just who was touching where. It was a lot of hands, and now, oh, mouths... Harry was not the only one with a tongue like that and— “Fuck... fucking hell...” Draco groaned, sharp teeth nipping into his hip and making him jerk.
Matten renewed his purr, lips brushing gently to Draco's neck as the boy gasped for air. Draco could feel Matten's erection nuzzling against his ass cheek, but the man seemed content to only hold his squirming form. Zyan and Haille were moving down his body, a steamy wave of heat and wet. Draco gave a weak laugh when his pants were suddenly pulled from him, his eyes still resolutely closed so he could not guess just who's tongue was dipping lower to...
“Holy fuck!”
“My god, the boy howls so,” Haille chuckled against his nipple, and Draco was forced to accept that it was Zyan's lips wrapped so unbelievably tight around his cock. Draco opened his eyes, hands seeking out the shifter's silky tangle of hair. Stormy gray eyes blinked up at him briefly, Zyan smiling wickedly around his prize before pulling Draco deeper into his hot mouth, the boy gaping.
“He is very good at that,” Matten whispered in Draco's ear, smirking when the boy nodded mutely. “He enjoys giving pleasure. We all want you to have pleasure, Draco.”
Draco was suddenly very glad that the Vesper were terrified of Harry. Draco apparently was not terrified enough. He was realizing he didn't give a crap what Harry thought about him in the arms of another man—or many, in this case. That was probably a bad thing.
The Vesper weren't people or students or even competition, they were these beings half like Draco that just understood the world a little different. Part of that understanding was when you were being suffocated by silvery hair and strong pale bodies, you enjoyed it. As Draco watched Haille lick over his body and Zyan bob his head, he tried to remember why he had been afraid of this. It was good... very good... very right. Moans rose up around him, and in the distance Draco could hear a howl from one of the dragons, quickly answered by more.
Haille gave a gasp. “Matten, he's...”
“I feel it,” Matten muttered, his hum rising louder. Draco blinked back at the man, eyes sliding across the scar on his face and his pale blue eyes. Matten looked strained, expression intense as he glared back at Draco. Draco wanted to smile, to reassure him that everything was fine, but he couldn't. Draco was hungry, his body aching, and there were a hundred plus bodies that were there to help.
“Halfling... lovely... you need to calm...” Haille pleaded, turning Draco's face. Confused, Draco couldn't help but notice that Zyan was lying on the ground, panting madly and moaning. Haille seemed about ready to fall with him, sweat dripping down his body while he swayed. Draco watched, motionless, Haille's breath quickening as he stared back, his long hair shimmering when the man's body shuddered again.
“Draco, please,” Matten tried, his voice a low guttural growl. “Your call... it is too strong...” Haille was on his hands now, gasping on the ground. Zyan's arm slipped over, pulling the man to him. Haille didn't resist, seeming almost relieved to not be suffering alone as he tore the taller man's clothes off. Draco watched, wondering who was going to win the struggle. They could have been fighting, except they were pulling close, not pushing away. Each frantic bite was for pleasure, not to hurt, no matter how wild the noises they made sounded.
Draco groaned, Haille the victor, pushing Zyan down onto his stomach, draping over the man like a glittering curtain of silk and flesh. Zyan's cries where muffled as more howls rang out, closer this time. Draco sat up to watch, Matten's hands keeping him from going too far. Draco pulled against them, wanting to see more, wanting to see Zyan's face as he gasped so desperately beneath Haille. Only Matten pulled him back forcefully, Draco exhaling sharply as he felt the man's erection again, hard and eager through his pants.
Eyes half closing, Draco reached a hand up, tangling his fingers into Matten's shoulder length hair while the shifter kissed down his neck with hard, needy motions. His tongue came next, Draco whimpering at the sensation, loving when his neck was touched and bit and sucked. “Yes... oh hell...” Draco moaned, Matten's hands moving down his bare torso, Draco feeling the absolute strength in his thick arms.
“What do you want, Draco?” Matten growled, sinking his teeth into Draco's neck, the boy hissing and rocking back for more.
“You know—You can't not know,” Draco gasped out, large hands now on his thighs, moving under his legs and raising his knees.
“I need you... to say it... I need to know it's true...” Matten ran his hands back down Draco's long legs, caressing his inner thighs and spreading them wide. “I am on the brink... do not wish to take...”
Draco laughed, howls rising up with the sound. “Fuck me, Matten. Before I lose my fucking mind... and take you all with me...” He was with his pack, he wanted sex, and he was going to have some fucking amazing sex.
“Your Kalistar...”
“Will be very upset he missed it,” Draco said with another sharp chuckle. Shit, they were all so afraid of Potter. Draco pressed back against Matten, rubbing over the man, loving the hard muscles and each small, barely contained gasp. Matten gave a final, breaking groan, questing fingers sliding down between Draco's cheeks and pushing in, stretching deep.
Draco gaped, slamming his head back against Matten's chest, his entire body tense and fiery. “Oh fuck... fuck yes... fucking need it...” Draco had known the shifters did wandless magic, just hadn't realized it involved lubing and stretching like a pro—He should have. They were very fucking sexual. Which Draco was glad for, because it explained why he was pulling away and getting to his knees like some desperate animal begging for it.
Matten curled around him, mouth running over his ear. Anticipation built in Draco, his body dripping in need. He could feel his wings and tail, feathers slightly crushed by the larger man. Draco spread his legs wider, whimpering at the first hot touch of Matten's cock, pushing against his entrance, unrelenting, driving forward and sheathing deep inside his clenching flesh. Draco sobbed in agonizing joy, the howls all around them now, the dragons having reached the center on the other side of the fire.
Draco lost track of things shortly after that, the heat and scent and madness too great to fight any longer. When Matten grew tired, Zyan wasn't, and then Kore and eventually Haille, the man covered in sharp bites and shallow wounds by the time he fucked Draco. Draco didn't grow tired, not for hours, and he knew that was the way of what he was. Even with the ring on.
At some point the red haze of lust finally let up, and they were all able to finally sleep, curled up on the furs and pillows, Draco sprawled between a dozen long, hard bodies and soft hair. When Draco woke up, he was not lost. No, he knew exactly where he was. Home, with his pack, in the middle of a terrible forest that would never be able to harm him. He was home and he was content.
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Intangible