Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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
- 4
- 5
- 6
CHAPTER 5: Lanai Manor

CHAPTER NOTES:

Hey, thanks for the wonderful reviews!

Okay, now to the next chapter, enjoy!

Disoriented and still drowsy with sleep, Harry let his eyes flutter open and blinked against the bright sunlight falling directly on his face. With a tormented groan he squeezed them shut again and turned his head away from the cruel light into the soft cushion cradling his head, searching the darkness that would allow him a little bit more sleep. God, he felt so knackered…

It didn't work though, and soon Harry blinked his eyes open again to a bright lit room, stretching his sore muscles out on the wonderfully soft bed that just seemed to cradle his body as if suffused with cushioning charms. It soothed his aching muscles well enough and soon he slid back into sleepiness, feeling as comfortable, warm and relaxed as the soreness in his body would allow him to; too relaxed and too drowsy to spend time on pondering why there was a beautifully painted fresco adorning the ceiling above his head.

It was framed by dark, richly carved wood, looking like an oval window that opened to the sky outside, showing a sea of blue, streaked with white, drifting cotton-wool clouds and partly veiled by the large leaves of vine grapes that were twined around a wooden trellis framing the view of the painted window. Ripe, black grapes hung heavily from the vines, begging to be plucked and songbirds sat amidst the leaves and flew over the sky.

Harry would have probably found it rather tacky under normal conditions, but the pale coloured fresco was enchanted like the portraits Harry had seen so often, and for some moments his drowsy mind was content to watch the birds flutter from one vine stock to the other, coming to sit right above the grapes, picking at them now and then.

But slowly it registered with him what exactly he was not seeing and that was the white, unadorned ceiling in his room at his aunt's and uncle's, or the dark dreariness at the Black Manor or even the piles of packages in Fred and George's room at the Burrow he had slept in lately…

And with that realisation the memories came crashing down on him like an avalanche. Panic and white hot agony searing through his veins. The fear of losing his magic, of being blind and deaf, the numbness.

Feeling dead.

Harry sat up, unable to not run from the memory of that sensation and he scrambled out of the bed, tried to, but his damn new appendages crushed painfully into the bedposts that were rather tall, even though they did not end in the ceiling of a canopy bed. He cried out and flinched once again as the sound came out as a full-blown, high-pitched eagle screech.

Agitatedly his wings fluttered and they folded around him in a protective barrier of dark greens, making him stumble in his attempts to get out of the king size bed and he fell forwards, landing on the hard stone floor with a sudden, dull thud and a surprised outcry.

For long moments he just laid there unmoving, staring wide-eyed at the gleaming, soft feathers that cocooned his huddled form; feathers of emerald and bottle-green and fresh young spring-green, suffused by sunlight, and he tried to shake off the remembered dread and pain that made his shoulders shake with the force of it all.

He breathed, concentrated on that, and slowly the flood of memories abated, gentled. He remembered soothing magic, calming touches, cool explanations, even if two Slytherins had been the bearers. But that didn't matter so much as the fact that his transformation was over and that he was able to see and feel and listen again.

Minutes passed, Harry didn't know how many, while he kept on staring at that silky green texture that taunted him with the knowledge that he was not human any more. He was a creature.

But that was okay; if Malfoy could live with it, it couldn't be too hard a change to adapt to. He just needed to find out what this bloody inheritance entailed!

Licking over his lips, Harry reached out with one shivering hand, captivated by the clarity with which he could make out the delicate texture of each shiny feather, until his overtaxed mind was distracted by the fact that all five of his fingers ended in dark greyish, almost one and a half inch long talons that were slightly curved towards his palm and ended in dangerously sharp tips.

More clearly than he cared to, Harry remembered how he had scratched himself with those and how … how Malfoy had touched him.

Harry closed his eyes as he felt the dizzying embarrassment of that specific memory rush to his cheeks and huddled closer into the warm comfort of his feathers, feeling them brush softly against his bare torso. How could he have let it happen? how could he have been so helpless? Letting two Slytherins care for him, hold him, direct his magic!

'If you tell Ron, you'll never live this down.' Harry chuckled dryly and that thought helped, gave him something to focus on aside from the insanity of his current situation. He had to get back to the Burrow, to his friends, to Ginny… and he would!

Malfoy had said he had come into some inheritance or another, that he was a Vykeli or something. But he had also said that Harry would be able to transform back again, given time and rest. So the weird changes of his body could wait, what had happened in the hospital could wait.

What could not wait was the fact that Harry had been kidnapped. And though he probably knew who it was, he couldn't be sure. Someone else could have taken advantage of his weakened state and helplessness; after all it was not as if he had only the one enemy... He needed to find out where he was, who had brought him here and how the hell to get home again.

Carefully he pushed at the soft, downy feathers of his wings, forcing them to open and give his body free, and to his surprise they fluttered a little bit before pulling themselves right into the skin of his back. For a moment it felt as if something warm pressed gently but insistently against the places where his wings had sprouted from his torso and then that, too, was gone, leaving him feeling a little bit exhausted, but endlessly relieved.

Without those things he definitely felt better, or at least more familiar, more like himself and he was able to relax a little bit; it seemed that Malfoy and Zabini had not lied to him: he could change back.

He decided to take that as a good sign.

Standing up, Harry quickly scanned his surroundings but it seemed that at least he was alone in the ridiculously large room. How much time did one have to spend in a bedroom to require so much space anyway? And wide, pillar-framed archways to the right and opposite of the king size bed seemed to lead to even more rooms. What laid behind them, however, was veiled by long, flowing curtains and that made Harry quite nervous. He couldn't be sure that he was alone…

Intently he listened for some moments but there was nothing aside from a distant rushing that spoke of a large body of water close by.

He inched towards the wide windows through which sun flooded the room, careful to keep low and not let himself be seen from outside as he came to stand beside one of the windows, peeking out from behind the light, flowing curtains that hang to both sides of it.

Harry had to admit that it was a breathtaking view that unfurled before him: beneath the window a large, beautiful garden spread in five terraces over a shallow acclivity towards the deep blue sea, the smallest of them being a dozen meters wide at least, the largest was the nethermost one that seemed to be a park in and on itself. It vaguely reminded Harry of a castle's pleasure ground, just with more exotic plants and not as strictly geometric in the shape of the beds and greens.

Throughout the different terraces several patios were nestled in between rocks and exotic plants, belted with flat stone walls, shadowed by trees of various kinds that Harry had never even seen before - and he doubted seriously that any muggle had, either.

The nearest of these patios was on the first terrace: a table with a complex tessellation of blues and greens was being set up by House elves with bowls of fruit, carafes of some golden liquid and three place settings.

Right next to it an artificial, probably magical well fed a small, stone-edged rivulet running downwards to the second terrace and into an impressively large pool, the water glittering in the sunlight so brightly that it almost blinded him. From there the little stream fled towards the sea, building small ponds where the water cascaded from one terrace to the other.

And there were colours; so many unnamed colours, so many unexpected patterns on the leaves and petals of these plants and he was vaguely aware that he really shouldn't be seeing so many details from so far a distance…

It was a beautiful view, but it didn't help him decipher what he needed to know, aside from the fact that he obviously was not anyway near the British Islands anymore. Whoever had taken him had enough influence to get a portkey to wherever he was now…

"Enjoying the view once again, Potter?"

Harry whipped around at hearing that lilting, teasing drawl and he snarled, knowing that whatever he said now would be unintelligible anyway. There right in front of the curtain veiled archway opposite of the king size bed stood Malfoy and Zabini, as poised and arrogant as ever but somehow stronger and more truly self-assured than ever before, too. Confident enough to answer Harry's defensive stance with barely concealed amusement as they stepped into the room.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Potter, does this seem as if we tried to harm you in any way?" Malfoy asked with his telltale smirk, pointing to the room's luxurious interior with an indefinite sweeping gesture that seemed to include everything and nothing as if he wanted Harry to read into it whatever would be most beneficial for him.

Harry raised his chin defiantly but did not lower his guard any; in his humble opinion he had every right to any bout of undue paranoia he felt like having, especially after their shared enmity during their schooldays and the war combined with their molestation of his person during the past night.

But as he glanced at his surroundings once more, taking in the elegant, finely lathed furnishings of dark wood and flowing sand-coloured fabric, he had to admit that Malfoy was right: these were not the rooms of a prisoner.

He immediately turned his head back towards the two Slytherins though, who were still advancing on him and slowly Harry pressed himself against the room's outer wall just to get a little bit further away from them, and bared his teeth in a silent warning.

"Why so hostile, Potter?" The darker of the two murmured, his low voice like a caress. "And so silent. Still unable to speak?"

Harry really considered not answering: having helped him during the transformation and keeping from openly antagonizing him didn't give them the right to kidnap him! But he really needed to find out how to change back, he had done it only by chance with his wings after all; and furthermore something about the way Zabini was looking at him was utterly distracting … like a starved vampire, maybe.

"You retreated those gorgeous wings and couldn't change back your voice box?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow at Harry, his lips curled into a sneer. "Mordred, Potter, your priorities!"

Zabini reached over towards the blonde, a small gesture since they stood so close to each other, his hand brushing against the other's lower arm for but a moment. Harry could see Malfoy's lips tightening scarcely perceptibly before his expression relaxed, softened almost and he continued with a milder tone of voice.

"Just concentrate on your speech, on what you want to say and how to voice it; how it might feel to voice it. Your magic learned and memorized the change yesterday night, you don't need to direct it in any way. But do not overdo it: you are still magically exhausted and transformations are tiring after all."

Harry stared, he knew he did, but he really couldn't stop himself. Draco Malfoy, the top dog of Slytherin House being … if not reproved then at least reminded to act polite by another Slytherin. It was … grotesque. But Harry remembered the way Zabini had threatened him the last night when he had bitten the blonde and his suspicion that their relationship was somewhat deeper than that of the Ice Prince to one of his cronies. It seemed he was more than right.

Still a little bit stunned he followed Malfoy's advice and thought of the sound of his voice as he heard it, the small vibrations that one felt during speaking but only when one concentrated on them. Something shifted in his throat. Not painfully, just oddly and he reached up, feeling the tendons and the hard knob that was his voice box.

"We'll have a late noon meal in the garden." Zabini said as he stepped past Harry towards the large window he had been looking out of. Then he turned suddenly, his eyes glinting as they travelled from the thin pyjama bottoms that the Gryffindor wore to his bare chest. For a short moment he locked eyes with Malfoy, then he smirked back at Harry.

"You might want to dress, but if you don't like what we laid out for you earlier," and without taking his eyes off Harry, he gestured towards the end of the large king-size bed with the now rumpled summer coat. Right at it's foot stood an elegantly curved foot bench made of a dark wood, with a velvety, sand-coloured upholstering; and on it was a neat pile of black and blue clothing.

"…you are welcome to further show off those markings of yours."

"Markings?" Harry exclaimed, looking down at his body. Indeed, there were dark emerald lines travelling down the sides of his ribcage in a swirling pattern of curves and curls, some thicker, some thinner. They ran over his waist along his hipbones and vanished under the waistband of the black pyjama bottoms.

'Oh, Merlin, please don't tell me they disrobed me…'

His eyes must have widened comically because both of the Slytherins started to chuckle at him; well, Zabini did, Malfoy's answer was more along the lines of a derisive snort.

"Shut up!" Harry growled, feeling uncomfortably naked all of a sudden. Self-consciously he drew his arms around his chest and glared fiercely at the other two men. Trust Slytherins to find something to ridicule when there were much more pressing matters at hand. And there were so many …

"Where am I?" He asked the first question that sprung to his mind and it seemed to trigger more and more and like an avalanche they gained in force and anger as they came rushing from his lips.

"Why have you brought me here? And what the hell happened? Why do I have fucking wings and claws and I don't know what else? Why were you there? Huh? In the hospital, why were you there? And why the hell did you bloody bastards fucking kidnap me?"

Angrily Harry glared at the two stunned Slytherins. "Never mind!" he snarled. "Give me back my wand and my clothes and then take me back to … to London!"

"I liked him better when he was unable to talk…" Malfoy sighed almost wistfully.

"Potter - Harry." Zabini said, his lilting voice calm and low. "Please dress and join us in the garden. We will explain everything then."

"My wand first!" Harry ground out. Really he didn't want to stay defenceless a minute longer than necessary, especially in the company of someone who had been the bane of his existence throughout his days at Hogwarts.

"We don't have it." Malfoy replied with a slight frown. "You didn't have it with you when you were brought to St. Mungo's."

"You took me from there?"

"Of course."

"And the Weasley's?" Harry asked, knowing that they must have been the ones to bring him to the wizard hospital. He couldn't for one moment believe that they had just allowed the two Slytherins to just levitate him out like a trunk.

Malfoy cocked his head, his gaze boring into Harry. "They are not related to you."

Harry waited, but the unnerving bastard didn't elaborate further and after a few moments of taut silence he ground his teeth and snapped "Duh! Of course they aren't! What the fuck do you mean, Malfoy?"

The git only stared at him blankly for a little while; then he sighed dramatically as if Harry made him life through the epitome of martyrdom and recited with exaggerated patience. "Only relatives are allowed close to a patient without the patient's express permission which you were unable to give at the time. I know that many healers before were willing to bend the rules a little bit for their ever so noble 'Chosen One', but Healer Cowan was not... he seemed a little bit uptight if you ask me, and I am certain that my father will be having a nice little chat with him soon concerning his enthusiasm for his work. And bondage." He added as an afterthought but waved the comment away with a beautific smile.

"They don't know what happened?" Harry exclaimed and the thought made him shiver. Not only would his surrogate family worry endlessly over him, frantically - they were a little bit overprotective lately what with the end of the war and Voldemort's vengeful supporters still scattered over Britain and bloodthirsty reporters on his heels - but more importantly no one knew where he was. He was at the mercy of his captors and no one might ever find out what happened to him. Oh, he knew his friends would search for him and if anyone would be able to find him, then Hermione and Ron, but what if they came too late … too late to stop whatever Malfoy and Zabini wanted to do with him?

"My mother will probably have told them, I don't imagine your little sidekicks will be happy to find out that you're no longer within the wards of St. Mungo's and as they saw me and Blaise there, they will know whom to ask."

"And why would she tell them?" Harry sneered, because he felt so damn out of his element.

"Because there is no reason not to: we did nothing illegal by bringing you here." Blaise said in that kind of patiently indulgent tone of voice with which one would answer the questions of a small child. It made Harry's blood boil.

"You kidnapped me!" He all but shouted and took an aggressive step forward before stopping himself. God, how he wanted to smash that bastard's face in, but he didn't have a wand and they did and he suffered from magical exhaustion whereas they looked as well-rested as one could possibly get. So he restrained himself, balling his hands into fists and concentrated on the distractingly painful feeling of his nails cutting into his palms.

"Not according to Vykélari laws; no we didn't." Malfoy said, all humour vanished from his face and voice and his expression was so hard and grave that Harry had to swallow, suddenly unsure. What if it was true? What if they really had the right to kidnap him?

His head was still reeling from the implication of that thought when Zabini stepped forward and laid his right hand on Malfoy's shoulder, squeezing slightly. "Listen, Potter, you really need to know about your inheritance, about the laws of our kind. Laws that overrule the laws of the ministry whenever in conflict. And you need to learn how to control your abilities and how to curb your magic. We can show you how."

Harry shook his head. "Why would I trust you?"

"We didn't harm you despite of having the chance multiple times now, and I owe you a life debt. Why would we harm you now?" Malfoy asked in turn, his head cocked to one side and his face blazing in a flash of sunlight that made his eyes pale so much that Harry thought he might have been looking at a demon who had no iris but only two contracted little points of deepest black that seemed to pierce him right through.

Without really wanting to, Harry found himself complying reluctantly. But really, he didn't have much of a choice: without a wand he was pretty much at Malfoy's and Zabini's mercy and he should probably be more affable at least until he found a way to escape.

Minutes later the two Slytherins led the way down a wide, elegantly curved staircase, along a short sand-coloured corridor and into the garden. Harry trailed behind them thoughtfully as he considered the tall figures before him.

In retrospect, they didn't seem much different from when he had seen them at Malfoy's trial not so long ago; but he hadn't really taken note of their appearance then and now in the middle of the sunlit, beautiful garden with no other people around them, no task like the awkward returning of a wand to distract him, Harry couldn't help but notice how different they looked from when all three of them had still been at Hogwarts.

They were no longer the irritating, easy-to-rile schoolboys he had known, Harry thought as he studied them, even though they were still irritating enough, or maybe even more so now that he was at their mercy and had to take them seriously for once.

They were both elegantly dressed and Harry would have thought that they had been out or were about to depart to some fancy restaurant or something, but the two snobbish Slytherins probably thought their attire to be 'casual'.

Malfoy wore jet black trousers and a dark blue-grey, tapered vest above a white, simple but elegant shirt. It might have been silk or something else, Harry really couldn't tell; it looked as if Harry would have found the price too ridiculous to pay for a bit of clothing, though. Not that it didn't look stunning on Malfoy's pale, lean muscled form, it really did: tall and proud he seemed and like someone you really didn't want to mess with.

Zabini on the other hand was the image of darkness with his dark olive tan, and the black tight fitting dress shirt and charcoal jeans that hugged his muscular form in such a way they just had to be tailored. He had left the first buttons of his shirt open and all in all he looked striking with the simplicity and elegance of his outfit. And from the look on his face he knew it, too.

That was when he noticed that the Slytherins had both turned and regarded him with almost identical smirks and Harry flushed. God, when had Zabini and Malfoy started to be able to make Harry lose himself in his thoughts? The war should have taught him better, had taught him better than that in fact.

"Sorry. Sorry, I just…" Harry muttered and then broke off with a shrug. There was no way that he would admit to having ogled them…

But then Malfoy took his hand and he must have used a small touch of his magic that made Harry's skin tingle pleasantly where the blonde's fingers stroked over the back of his hand, invigorating in a way that made his heart beat faster. As he looked up, Malfoy gave him a little half-smile, an honest smile, not those sneers and smirks he usually wore and Harry found himself staring again. He didn't really notice as the blonde led him towards the little patio he had seen earlier from the window in his room, too distracted by the surprisingly warm fingers touching his own so gently. He did notice when Zabini pulled out the chair for him and he was urged to sit. God had he ever felt so flustered?

"Uhm…" Harry started, scrambling for something to say even before his hosts had taken their seats (and when the hell had they transformed from enemies and kidnappers to hosts?).

Feeling extremely uncomfortable again, Harry cleared his throat. "So, where are we?"

Zabini chuckled warmly as he sat down to Harry's right. "In Lanai Manor. Well, my mother calls it Zabini Manor since I inherited it after my father's death, but the locals still call it Lanai Manor."

"That doesn't mean anything to me…" Harry admitted absent-mindedly with a slight frown, watching as Malfoy poured him a glass of that golden liquid.

"And what is that?" He asked suspiciously.

"Hesperides' Nectar. It is made of a variety of apples that my father's family are cultivating. A rather expensive treat since the trees themselves need magic to grow, which the farmers have to infuse them with - there are just so few places nowadays with natural magic and the ones that exist are protected and can't be used for farming." Zabini explained, watching Harry intently.

"But I digress: we are at the Costa tirrenica in Italy."

"A-huh." Harry murmured though he really had no idea where that was, he had never been good at geography. For a moment he busied himself by watching the liquid swirl around in his glass like molten gold. That was better than trying to hold the Slytherins' weird gazes; those were starting to really freak him out…

"So, what am I now? And what did you mean when you said you had the right to bring me here without my consent?" he tried to keep his voice calm, he really did, but it sounded tense and taut even to him.

For a moment silence spread over the small table and Harry looked up to see the two Slytherins sharing a glance as if they were holding a quiet conversation.

"Have some fruit salad, Potter, you must be hungry." Malfoy said at last as he turned to him once again, completely ignoring Harry's question and with a roguish smile he started piling the mixture of fruits on the crystalline dessert plate of his guest.

Harry merely gaped at him open-mouthed: they had promised to explain! But the git continued completely unperturbed.

"I'm afraid that your stomach will be easily upset for one or two days with animal products, thanks to your new features combined with some traces of magical exhaustion."

"Malfoy…" The feathers in Harry's hair raised themselves warningly as he growled at the blonde, making the Gryffindor look as if he wore a somewhat chaotic crest of emeralds. Both Malfoy and Zabini exchanged an amused glance over the table at that, wondering if Harry was aware of how his new body mirrored his emotions; probably not.

"Hush, I'm getting to your questions, alright? No need to be so uncouth." Malfoy clicked his tongue disapprovingly and raised his chin, a slight frown creasing his pale brow. Harry wondered absent-mindedly if that was something he had copied from Narcissa Malfoy or from his father.

"I already explained some of it during your transformation yesterday night."

"Yeah, I remember. I'm a Vykeli now?" Harry asked, frowning at the weird silver fork in his hand that only had two long, thin and very sharp prongs.

"A Vykélari, Potter." Zabini corrected with a raised eyebrow. "And that is a fruit fork, it won't attack you."

Glaring at the olive skinned male, Harry stabbed a slice of peach and brought it to his mouth. He just wanted them to get to the fucking point, but it didn't seem as if they would anytime soon if Harry didn't at least start eating some of that crap. As his lips closed over the soft slice, however, he almost choked on the rich, sweet taste that exploded in his mouth, at the thick juice that swirled over his tongue.

He had frozen in his movements for a few moments and only swallowed once he was sure he wouldn't get it into the wrong tube and he licked over his lips in search of that wonderful flavour before looking up again and flushing. Zabini was leaning back in his chair, watching him with an approving and oddly appreciative expression as if Harry had accomplished something he hadn't expected him to and as if that had raised his esteem in the tanned Italian's eyes. And then something flickered over his face, something blazing and burning but it was gone so fast that Harry was not even sure if he had imagined it.

With much unease he tore his gaze from the one and hefted it on the other, but that didn't help settle the fluttering in his stomach any as Malfoy refused to be the school-enemy Harry half-expected to see. Instead he sat upright in his chair, poised like a proper pureblood heir, Harry thought, but the sinews of his throat stood out as if he was fighting an inner, fierce battle and his eyes locked with Harry's and they seemed to devour him whole. If there was ever an albino-Nundu, Harry thought it had to look the way Malfoy was looking right now.

Feeling more than a little bit flustered and queasy, Harry averted his gaze and laid down his fork ostensibly carefully. "Uhm. The inheritance. Vykeli?"

"Vykélari, Potter."

"Yeah. Right. Uhm, why … why don't you … I mean I want, that is I'd like to know why I became … that and why you … how I came to be here?"

He heard a sigh from his right, where Zabini sat and that seemed to break the sudden tension but he didn't look up nonetheless.

"Vykélari have been an integral part of the wizarding society for many centuries now, Potter. Especially here in Britain. Many purebloods once had the genes before the blood thinned or the genes were lost during one generation of only female descendants. You see, what distinguishes us from normal wizards are a set of additional genes located on the Y chromosome, that is why only males can become Vykélari.

A wizard with those genes will not always transform however, although the genes themselves are dominant. That is because the transformation itself is very exhausting and a weak wizard would not survive the rebuilding of his magical core. The genes therefore only activate when the wizard has a chance to survive."

"So I was powerful enough to transform and therefore I did? Brilliant. Where does the gene come from in my family, do you know that?"

"Didn't you listen, Potter? It’s an Y-chromosomal succession. It's obviously from your pure-blooded paternal side, from the Potter line."

"Sorry." Harry exclaimed tartly. "But I didn't hear of anyone who was not … who became that in my family."

Malfoy clicked his tongue once again, making Harry wonder how many times he could make the git do that during a certain time span. "It's been over 200 years since the last Potter fledged. Your ancestors were not powerful enough."

Harry cringed. "Could you not use that word, please? It makes me sound like an animal."

And more to distract himself a little bit from the implications of that than anything else, Harry took the glass with the Hesperides' Nectar and sniffed carefully before taking a sip. And then he had to take another sip and another. It had a thick, velvety texture as it flowed over his tongue and it was cool and oh so very rich in its taste and sweet and utterly refreshing like cold spring water and it prickled gently on his tongue and throat as he swallowed. It was intoxicating and addicting and Harry had never tasted anything like it before…

Suddenly Zabini laughed and urged him to set the glass down with a gentle hand on his forearm. "really, Potter. This is something to be enjoyed; something to be relished! Try drinking it slowly and savour the taste." But his eyes sparkled as Malfoy and he shared a grin, maybe remembering the first time they had tasted this specific beverage.

Then Malfoy shook his head slightly and continued. "Not an animal. I also dislike the term creature. We are human magical beings and therefore allowed to use wands just like wizards and have the same laws, well except those for mating, there are some additional rules and some liberties we may presume because of Vykélari mating habits. Not that they were enacted during the last 200 years…"

"Only mating laws?" Harry whispered, but his tone had some cutting quality to it and Malfoy fell silent and nodded, fixing him with an inquisitive stare.

"But you said that the special laws of Vykélari were why you brought me here and why … why it was legal that you did. So, since that has nothing to do with mating… it hasn't, has it?"

'Oh, Merlin, please deny it!' Harry thought, looking from Zabini to Malfoy and back, feeling more horrified with every passing moment of silence. But his kidnappers only shared a carefully neutral glance before observing him once more. 'Oh god, it's true.'

All those stares, those hungry glances, the molestation in St. Mungo's. It all made sense in that horrible way. "Oh Merlin!" he groaned.

"Potter … Harry," Zabini started, but Harry didn't want to listen to what he had to say. He didn't know what mating entailed exactly but he was pretty sure that he wouldn't like it; not with his school nemesis and another he didn't even know, anyway. And damn it, they were male all three of them and … and he would not be part of a… of a threesome, especially not with those two!

He shot up from his chair, swaying a little bit as his battered cardiovascular system fought to keep up with him. But he managed to steady himself with the back of his chair and glared down at the two Slytherins.

"No! This madness has gone on long enough: I want to go now! Get me a portkey to London, I want home!"

"No Harry. You can't go home. You won't." Malfoy said gravely as he, too, stood and his perfect composure made Harry bristle.

"You cannot keep me here!"

"You have no idea what awaits you. There are about 180 Vykélari in Britain alone who are of the right age to seek someone to mate. You are the first submissive in over 200 years, Harry and by now they will know of your existence." He stepped closer to Harry, his shoulders squared and his face set in an expression of so inflexible determination and stubbornness that Harry involuntarily took a step back before he could stop himself. Never had he felt the few inches that separated them more than at that very moment.

"They will already be searching for you, Harry." Zabini said from his place at the table, never having stood. "We can protect you. We would never force a mating bond upon you. But if they find you, have no doubt that they will not care if you are willing or not."

They were mad! Utterly insane! He was no submissive whatever that meant, he couldn't be. And why the hell would other males try to mate with him anyway? Especially purebloods? There was no better way to end a bloodline than to marry someone who was unable to bear children. It didn't make sense that they would and even if they were: he had escaped Voldemort's supporters, he would always escape.

"I can protect myself well enough, thank you very much! I don't need your help!" Harry seethed, his hands shaking badly at his side. "And you won't come anywhere near me; I'll go back to England with or without your help!" And then he would get Hermione to find out what all of this fucking meant!

He turned to leave just as he heard a clapping sound and then a cacophony of pops all around him, precursors of the almost two dozen house-elves that appeared out of the thin air. Curiously they stared at him, but their main focus was on Zabini.

"Mr. Potter is not allowed to leave the grounds." He heard Zabini's imperious voice and stiffly and very slowly he turned. Zabini had stood finally, bracing himself against the tessellated table with both hands, leaning forward menacingly. His hard gaze bore into Harry as he addressed his servants without even sparing them one glance. Next to him Malfoy watched him with a carefully neutral expression but Harry thought he saw the corner of his mouth twitch suspiciously and that made him want to scream and rant and shout at them.

But at the same time he felt as if he had been hit with a Body-Bind and he found himself too stunned to move.

"If he gets within thirty feet of the wards he is to be stunned and apparated into my study to await my or Master Draco's arrival. For now he is not to wear a wand. Apart from that you will serve his every wish like you would serve a Zabini. That is all."

And as if that dismissal was meant for him, Harry turned with a furious snarl and stormed towards the manor to flee the Slytherins' company and retreat into his rooms. He would find a way to escape and if it was the last thing he would do!

CHAPTER END NOTES:

I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

And reviews are always appreciated and feed the muses...
- 4
- 5
- 6
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

Night Flight