Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Eyes That Can See in the Dark	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4287 -:- 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
- 2
- 3
- 4
Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Three—Outside the Wood

            “You don’t have anyone you want to visit? Anyone you want to see?”

            Draco ground his teeth and tried to concentrate on sweeping the twigs and dirt out of his house. Harry could talk all he liked about “natural surroundings” and how the wolf felt at home in them; Draco wasn’t out in the woods at the moment and he was at his most human, two weeks from the full moon, and the human hated dirt.

            “Even I have a relative who hasn’t abandoned me, and I committed murder.” Hyacinth made it sound like a cause for celebration instead of a crime as she leaned against the doorway of his house and watched him critically. Again, Draco fought not to reply to her. Murder wasn’t a crime if committed the way Harry had committed it, to save someone else, but he knew Hyacinth had been at the mercy of her beast. That wasn’t heroic. “You should have one.”

            Draco focused on herding the dirt out of two of the inaccessible corners where it tended to gather, just under the threshold.

            “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” Hyacinth was almost growling now, her voice low and throbbing throughout the room. She had extended her magic, too, so that it brushed across Draco’s skin and created a prickling sensation like dust in his nose.

            Draco leaned the broom against the wall and looked at her, carefully not focusing on her eyes but on her nose. Despite her demand, she would take a direct stare into the eyes as a challenge. “What did you want me to say? My father’s family was always distant from the main Malfoy branch, and I don’t have any close cousins. My father and grandfather were both only children.”

            Hyacinth laughed; Draco could see her tongue hanging out of her mouth from the corner of his gaze. “And your mother’s family? What about them?”

            Draco said nothing. He was remembering the story of Sirius Black that Harry had told him the other night, his voice low and passionate with pain. Draco’s aunt had killed his cousin, and from what little his mother had told him of the history of the Blacks, it often worked out that way.

            “I asked you a question.” Again the growl, but this time, Draco was much less impressed by it than he had been. Probably Hyacinth hadn’t noticed, since she was so busy demonstrating her strength and wrestling with her wolf to gain ever better control of it, but he had watched her fight. He was growing better at his play battles with Leila, the ones she gave him to oblige him more than anything else; Draco could tell that she expected to lose to him and expected Draco to lose to Hyacinth. But she still did it, and so Draco was closest to her of anyone in the pack except for Harry.

            Harry.

            It was the thought of his lover that had intruded on Draco now. Harry was closer to the remaining members of his mother’s family than Draco ever would be.

            On the other hand, perhaps that closeness meant that Draco could ask Harry to introduce him. If he would. If those members of his family, another aunt and another cousin, knew that Harry was a werewolf. Draco hadn’t asked because he was so busy from day to day with his own matters.

            “I have relatives,” Draco said. “My mother despised one for marrying a Muggleborn, and then her daughter married a werewolf, which gave my mother another reason to be distant from them.” He looked up with a bitter smile that he thought should fulfill Hyacinth’s quota of things to make him feel bad about for the day. “I’ve never met them.”

            “Then I reckon you are poor in relations,” Hyacinth said casually, and turned away. Draco watched her go, shaking his head. Harry had told Draco that he’d been insufferable for a short time after he started to gain control of his wolf, until the rest of the pack had mutually turned on him and snarled at him. Draco thought Hyacinth was going through the same thing as she became stronger and stronger, more certain of herself.

            Perhaps I should say something about her to Harry.

            But first, I want to ask about Andromeda Tonks and Teddy Lupin.

*

            Harry turned and glanced sideways at Draco with a smile. “Just be the same as you always are,” he said softly. “As you’ve been since coming to the pack. They know that I’m a werewolf, and if you make any little gesture that they might interpret strangely, they’ll be willing to forgive it.” He reached out and opened the door of the small house in front of them.

            Draco tried to swallow through a dry throat as he followed Harry inside. He wished he could tell Harry that he was more worried about the bad blood between Andromeda and his mother than the fact that he was a werewolf. From everything he’d heard about Mrs. Tonks, she wasn’t someone who would reject a relative based on what he was. She’d let a werewolf marry her daughter, after all.

            But for her sister not to speak to her for years, and now for the sister’s son to be crawling through the door timidly…

            Draco didn’t know how she would react, and that was what worried him.

            “Harry? Is that you?” Andromeda’s voice was soft and harried. “Teddy’s just gone down for a nap after playing all morning. I hope that you and your friend can excuse the mess.” She stepped around the corner of the front room, which was indeed a mess, covered with sheaves of colored-on parchment and scattered toys and cushions, and then stopped and stared when she saw Draco behind Harry.

            Draco felt a moment’s relief. At least Harry hadn’t told Andromeda who was coming any more than he’d let Draco have advance warning of where they were going when he seized his hand to Apparate. They were on equal footing for the moment.

            Then Andromeda’s eyes filled with tears, and she took a step forwards as if she was being compelled against her will. Draco held his breath. He wondered if she would slap him or turn around in a moment and run away.

            Instead, she whispered, “Oh, my poor child. Something horrible must have happened to you,” and then ran across the rest of the distance between them and wrapped Draco in her arms.

            Draco stood frozen. Her scent was heavy with grief and astonishment and compassion and so many other things that he couldn’t even return the hug at first. He had grown used to the scents of the rest of the pack. He had forgotten that people outside it would have much more complicated stories wrapped in the folds of their bodies. He wanted to look at Harry for help, but he’d been seven months with the pack now, almost eight, and he hoped that he was past relying on Harry for every little thing.

            Carefully, because Andromeda had startled him so much that he wasn’t sure what she would do next, he reached up and embraced her, too. Andromeda made a sighing sound and whispered, “I could see the marks of suffering in your face. Is it only because you became a werewolf, or are there other reasons?”

            “Other reasons,” Draco whispered. He had planned to hide most of the information about his suffering from his relatives—he even wore glamours to disguise his lack of earlobes—but in the face of Andromeda’s unexpected kindness and acceptance, he didn’t think he could. “So many others. Becoming a werewolf was my escape from suffering into a different kind of life.”

            “I can understand that.” Andromeda stepped back from him, wiping her eyes. “When Harry is involved, it’s usually an escape.” She turned around and smiled fondly at Harry, who gave her a gentle smile back, more human than Draco had seen him look in a long time. If Draco hadn’t known him for months now, he would never have known how much Harry was restraining his strength so that he wouldn’t hurt or frighten the human in front of him.

            “I knew that you would like each other,” Harry said in contentment, glancing back and forth between them. “You’re both good people at heart.”

            Draco gaped at him, while Andromeda simply looked pleased. She opened her mouth to say something else, but the wail of a child from a different room interrupted her. Draco sniffed without thinking and caught a scent of milk and irritation and anger, but no fear.

            “There’s Teddy,” said Andromeda, but she was smiling. “Would you like to meet him?” She turned to Draco, who was aware of how much depended on him answering in a way that she would find reassuring.

            “Very much,” he said. Nothing could have made his voice less hoarse.

            Andromeda hurried away to pick up the child. Draco sat down on the couch behind him; he had smelled the leather and cloth the second he came in the door, though he couldn’t remember seeing it. He put a hand over his eyes and tried to think of what his mother would say if she could see him sitting here with the sister she had despised and the baby she had despised all the more because a werewolf had fathered it.

            Then he gave a choked laugh. I wish she was alive to say anything, even though it would be an insult. Of course, she would probably also despise me for asking to be turned into a werewolf, so I would have lots of insults from her. That’s all right. I just want to hear her voice.

            “Draco? Are you all right?” Harry sat down beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. His magic washed over Draco, this time like a bird’s warm wings clasping a nestling. “I wouldn’t have brought you in without telling Andromeda who you were if I wasn’t certain you would get along.”

            “I know that.” Draco raised his head and took a deep breath. “Just—I was wishing my mother was still alive.” A sudden, horrible thought occurred to him, and he jerked around to look the way Andromeda had gone, which was a short dim corridor. “Does she know about my mother? Oh, God, if I have to—”

            Harry squeezed his elbow hard enough to hurt and shook his head. “No. I told her about that soon after we rescued you, though I didn’t tell her how I knew. She did her grieving and accepted it.”

            Draco sighed in relief and leaned back as they waited for Andromeda. Harry kept his hand on Draco’s elbow. Draco would have said something about it in front of the pack, because there were people there (Hyacinth) who might grow jealous too easily or decide that Draco was weak because of it, but here he could accept it as a simple gesture from one human to another, and soak up all the comfort he could from it.

            Andromeda came out at last. She gave a liquid, melting smile to the toddler in her arms, and Draco was stunned to realize how much she looked like Bellatrix—those heavy-lidded dark eyes, that long black hair. Nothing like his mother.

            That made his wound ache less rather than more, though he was not sure why it should be so. To keep from thinking any more about Narcissa, Draco turned to look more firmly at Teddy Lupin.

            And he lost his breath and his heart at the same time.

            Teddy was rubbing a small fist into his eye and screwing his face up as if he couldn’t decide whether he should be upset or not. His hair was purple, but as Draco watched, it turned a blue so bright that it hurt Draco’s eyes. His scent shifted rapidly among emotions, but the background, of baby warmth and fatness and softness, never varied.

            Then he looked up and saw Draco, and his currently brown eyes turned bright blue to match his hair. Draco had no idea what that meant, because he had never been around a Metamorphmagus long enough to know how hair and eye color matched to moods, but there was no fear in Teddy’s scent.

            He thought there must have been in his, because the hands he extended to Teddy shook slightly, and Harry squeezed his shoulder this time, in love and comfort.

            Teddy considered him for an instant that seemed endless to Draco, worse than when he woke up as human for the first time after his transformation, and then stretched out his arms in return. “Arry,” he said, with a nod at Harry as Draco took him from Andromeda. To Draco, the nod looked as practiced as the nod his mother would give people at society parties when they were meeting for the first time in months. Then Teddy glanced at him, and Draco swallowed. No, he hadn’t imagined it. Teddy’s nose and mouth looked like Narcissa’s.

            “You,” Teddy said, and then paused expectantly, obviously waiting for someone to introduce him to Draco.

            “That’s Draco,” Harry said, and leaned forwards so that Teddy could see both their faces at once. “You should try to say his name, but you won’t get it right the first time.”

            Teddy gave Harry a tolerant glance, as much to say that he didn’t know what Harry was babbling on about but he wished he would stop and let the real master of events, Teddy, get on with things, and then pulled Draco’s ear. His eyes changed to grey ones. It took Draco a moment to realize Teddy was mirroring him. “Aco,” Teddy said, sounding satisfied, and tugged hard enough on Draco’s ear to hurt. At least he wasn’t grasping the glamour of the earlobe. Draco wasn’t sure what he would have done if that had happened.

            “Teddy.” Andromeda sighed and rolled her eyes. “We’ve tried to get him to stop pulling on people’s ears, but he keeps doing it. Let me know if he’s hurting you. I can take him.” She hovered next to him, vigilant in the way that Draco imagined his mother must have been when she was letting strangers hold him.

            “No, that’s all right,” Draco said, and leaned back on the couch. He didn’t care about the small flashes of pain jolting through him from the point where the tiny hand gripped his ear. He found it difficult to care about anything but the brightness of Teddy’s eyes and the way he stuck his tongue between his lips, holding onto it with his teeth, as he studied Draco’s face. His own face melted and flowed into an approximate copy of Draco’s.

            Harry leaned further in, and Teddy glanced at him, gurgled, and changed his eyes to green.

            Draco caught a glimpse of a vision that he couldn’t have entertained even in his mind: what the world might have been like if he and Harry could have had children of their own.

            He shut his eyes tightly to stop the tears from falling, and sniffed scents instead. Teddy’s was pleased. Andromeda’s was slightly worried, but she was also confident that her nephew wouldn’t drop her grandson.

            Harry’s was full of wonder and longing and love, and the way he leaned down to snuffle at Draco’s neck a moment later confirmed it.

            Draco opened his eyes and enjoyed the impossible.

*

            In some ways, though he enjoyed much of his life with the pack, Draco liked the third week after a full moon best. The pack was beginning to feel the call of their wolves, but in a way that made them more indulgent of wolf-like behaviors, rather than angry and restless and challenging each other for dominance.

            Leila bit Draco on the back of the neck while he bent over the Wolfsbane Potion and dodged away.

            Draco serenely ignored her, only moving a bit to the left so that he could consult the recipe again. Wolfsbane was challenging even for someone who liked Potions and who had brewed it several times before. It increased his respect for Leila that she had managed it, no matter how much she deprecated her skills.

            Leila crept up behind him and nipped him on the elbow this time. Draco gritted his teeth, but still managed to ignore her. He tossed a clump of mint into the Wolfsbane and watched in satisfaction as the clear green color stabilized. Then he went through the process of adding the next three ingredients without fear. Leila knew the potion, and even in her playfulness she wouldn’t jostle or bite him at moments when it would seriously damage the outcome.

            Then Leila danced back again. Draco waited until she was near enough that he could almost see her, though she was a good enough hunter to keep in his blind spot as she came closer. He did hear the faint click of her jaws as she opened them to bite. He wasn’t sure if his hearing had sharpened over the last few months or if he simply paid attention to it more, but it was true that he heard better than he did when he had first been turned.

            He whirled to meet her just as she sprang. Leila had a moment for one breathless cry of surprise before Draco knocked her to the ground.

            His old wounds twinged as they rolled, but that was all right, because he was sure that her old wound was doing the same thing. She wouldn’t have started the game if she didn’t eventually expect payback. She thrashed beneath him now, pushing her magic against him like a hand against his chest, wielding teeth and nails as instinctive weapons.

            Draco let himself fall fully into the wolf mindset for a moment. He was still trying to figure out what would be instinctive a fight like this and what wouldn’t. One of his best advantages when fighting Hyacinth in the future—and they still struggled a bit every full moon—would be to do something that she didn’t expect, and he thought she relied far too much on the gifts her wolf gave her, not enough on her human intelligence.

            He arched his neck to the side and tried to clamp his teeth on Leila’s throat. That would be one of the ways to make her give up quickly, since she would struggle to breathe, and his wolf wanted the fight over quickly; it unsettled the beast when members of the same pack struggled.

            Draco would remember that. For now, he pulled back and hit Leila sharply in the ribs, which would do her less damage and keep the fight from becoming something so serious there was no going back from it.

            Leila gasped, the air driven out of her, and Draco leaped off her and dashed lightly into the woods. He knew she would chase him, and he was interested to see how fast she could run. For long minutes, her pounding feet weren’t more than a few meters behind him, and Draco chuckled and didn’t try to move faster.

            Then Leila sheared off, and someone else joined the chase.

            Draco knew who it was at once, of course. No one else had that scent, that heaviness of power that seemed to make noise in the forest even though his steps were completely silent, and that sheer presence at Draco’s back. No one else was so familiar from sleeping in the same bed for whole nights at a time.

            But Draco continued running without looking back, pretending that he didn’t notice the substitution, and spun around laughing when he reached another clearing like the one in which the pack made their home.

            Harry paused at the edge of the trees, then came towards him. His skin shone with sweat. His hair was matted with it. His arms gleamed with muscle, and Draco surged forwards to meet him, biting at his lips before they kissed.

            Harry laid him on the leaves, using his magic to cushion the ground so that it would be comfortable enough for Draco to lie on and not get distracted. Then he banished Draco’s clothes and looked at him with open lust. Draco didn’t know if it was Harry’s partnership with his wolf or simply the essential Harry nature of him that made him so comfortable with his lust, but either way, Draco wished to encourage him to continue.

            He arched his back and moved his hardening cock towards Harry, wondering if it would result in a pinch and an admonition to stay where he was.

            This time, Harry only bowed his head as if Draco’s movement had reminded him of how much hunger he felt at the moment. He licked and slurped at Draco’s cock as if he was starving. He kept his teeth well-covered, luckily; Draco had no desire to know what it was like to be literally devoured by a starving werewolf.

            This was enough, this demanding wetness, this warmth that made him feel as if his brain was turning inside out. Draco writhed and sobbed, and Harry pulled back at last and licked his lips thoughtfully.

            “Salty,” he said.

            Then he dived down again, and the curse forming on Draco’s lips died into gasps. He reached down and tried to touch Harry’s head, but Harry pushed him flat on his back again without looking up. Draco subsided and concentrating on keeping his gasps from becoming shameful.

            He wasn’t cold. He could never be cold in Harry’s presence, even with winter not far away, since Harry’s power flowing over him, sheltering him.

            Harry settled in for some serious sucking, his eyes closed, his hands clenched around Draco’s hips. Draco shivered as he watched him, neck craned at an uncomfortable angle so that he could continue lying flat the way Harry seemed to want him to do. Harry swallowed and hummed, and Draco’s legs thrashed.

            He held out for as long as he could, watching the expressions flicker and change on Harry’s face like shadows dancing across leaves. When Harry opened his eyes and stared at Draco, Draco lost the battle.

            He came down Harry’s throat as if he’d been doing it all his life, his whimpering howls rising into the air without a trace of the lupine. Harry kept his mouth in place for long minutes when Draco was done, not licking at his oversensitive flesh, simply holding Draco within him. Then he sat up and shook his shaggy hair back, already reaching for his own cock.

            Draco scrambled up this time and reached out eagerly. Harry watched him with half-lidded eyes and panted his way through the stroking, until he reached climax and tilted his head back like someone baring his throat in surrender. Draco couldn’t resist leaning in and tonguing Harry’s pulse as Harry’s orgasm spilled over his hands, over both their hands, and onto the forest floor.

            Harry opened his eyes and watched him without anger at the gesture, though it could be seen as Draco attempting to challenge him for pride of place at the head of the pack.

            “Yes, Draco,” he said, and those words encompassed a world of meaning.

*

            polka dot: All right.

            yaoiObsessed: Thank you! Leila is gaining in confidence now, and I think it would be right to describe her and Draco as friends. So both of them help each other fit more comfortably in the pack.

            Dezra: Thanks! Afraid I can’t say anything about that as it would spoil the last chapter.

            SP777: They will probably have to go back to society someday, but it’s hard when one of them is a convicted murderer and the society is so against werewolves. And I don’t think a few months is enough time to change those perceptions. And that’s not really the story I want this story to be.

            Yes, canon is followed in all ways except the epilogue.

            Thrnbrooke: Yes, there will be four chapters.
- 2
- 3
- 4
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

Eyes That Can See in the Dark