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For the Want of a Nail	By : thewickednix Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4934 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. This is made for fun, not profit.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Chapter 8. Sticks and Stones

When I come to, I find myself lying on the hard dusty floor, another body on top of mine. I feel strong hands gripping my wrists, placed above my head, and I open my eyes to find a familiar face looking down at me.
A very shocked Malfoy is staring down at me. An yet, it is not. Malfoy.
I see something buried beneath the surface of his pale features, and suddenly I realise it is not me he's staring at, but my throat. Instinctively, I gulp, and I see Malfoy's eyes widening further. His grey eyes are glowing almost silver in the light of lamps on the wall, his chest rising and falling heavily. A pink tongue darts out to grace his teeth.
Panic takes over as I see Malfoy trying to fight the vampire. I squirm beneath his grip, but in vain. Suddenly I see his nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath, and I know he has lost the struggle with himself.
A croaked "I'm sorry" echoes in the hallway, followed by my gasp as the sharp teeth pierce my skin. The burn on my throat is fierce, and I cannot but to kick my legs in a pointless struggle. In the moment I feels as though I'm dying, and I can but wonder at how it all could end like this. Of all that I have survived, Grimmauld Place will be my demise.
I'm not afraid of death. But I'm afraid that people won't remember me. They'll only remember what I didn't do while I was alive. Like killing Voldemort. Or at least coming as far as trying.
And then, Malfoy then settles his whole body on top of mine to keep me still, and suddenly all such thoughts are caught off. With the sting in my throat slowly fading into a pulsing burn, and Malfoy's thigh digging in between mine, my breath catches in my throat. I suddenly realise I am enjoying death far more than I should.
Death is a wonderful thing.
Malfoy's tongue darts out to lap once at the pulsing wound, and reflexively I gasp and thrust up at him. Malfoy stiffens for a second, but suddenly he bites his teeth deeper into my neck. He groans and ruts his hips hard against mine for me to feel his arousal.
"Oh God--" I gasp, closing my eyes and throwing my head back, rolling my hips frantically to get as much friction as possible. Malfoy responds with a throaty growl that feeds my desire even more, as he begins rutting me into the floor in a frantic pace. The floor is dirty and uncomfortable, and I'm positive I will have dark bruises on my back tomorrow. And for all I try, I can't seem to care, my own raspy groans overshadowing any voice of reason. It's all a glorious blur; Malfoy's cool hands wrapped around my wrists. Malfoy's body against mine. Malfoy's shallow breathing in my ear...

Malfoy.

Then I am coming, and he is too, grunting loudly but never letting go of my throat. I feel my body go weak, my sight darkening. Just as I believe I am about to black out, the already too familiar weight on my throat disappears.
I open my eyes to find Malfoy staring down at me, clouded eyes wide as saucers. A trail of blood, my blood, escapes the side of his mouth.
"Potter." he rasps, and I can only snort at the sound of my name. Way to state the obvious, no? He breaks the eye contact, looking around in the hallway. At my cloak on a hanger, my broom in the corner of the hall and my suitcase abandoned on the floor. Then Malfoy turns his face to the two gas lamps on the wall that I lit upon entering the house. I see him suddenly become self-aware.
He jumps off me as if burned, backing into the shadows further down the hallway. "Why are you here?" the pale shadow that once was Malfoy asks, wiping away the blood from his lips as he leans against the double doors of the dining room.
I stand up from the floor on shaky legs, very aware of the uncomfortable wetness in my trousers. "Things at Hogwarts got a little... complicated. Dumbledore sent me here." I mumble.
"You shouldn't have come." Malfoy mutters, maybe more to himself than to me. "He should've known you couldn't come here!" Looking almost afraid, Malfoy looks down at his hands, clenches and unclenches them experimentally. "You barely got through the door and look at what I did to you." He turns to look at me, furrow between his pale brows and guilt clouding his eyes like a veil.
I stare at him for a few minutes, silently cursing myself for being disappointed that what just happened meant nothing to Malfoy. Why should it mean anything to him?

Why does it mean something to me?

Quietly I turn to pick up my suitcase before turning back to the blonde. "I'm all right, aren't I? Besides..." I take a deep breath, wondering what the hell I am going to say. "...it's perfectly understandable that you'd attack anyone coming through that door. You haven't fed in a long time, have you?" I state hollowly, turning around and strolling up the stairs. All the while I am very conscious of Malfoy staring at me with an expression I cannot read.
He then takes a jump two meters up and over the railing, blocking my way as I am heading upstairs. "It's not supposed to happen!" he exclaims, seeming almost panicked. "I am trying so hard to convince everyone that I am not some kind of animal. That I can control myself. And what do I do the minute the Chosen One walks through the door?!" he screams, more near me than at me. Malfoy sighs and looks at me with desperation. "Do you really think even Dumbledore will forgive me for that?" He pants as he is through, piercing me with wide metallic eyes.
I stare in surprise at this unfamiliar, straightforward Malfoy. I could never imagine the old Malfoy expressing his worries to me, of all people, so freely. I give him a slight sneer and try to push past him and into the second floor hallway. "No one has to find out, do they?"
Suddenly I am pressed between the wall and Malfoy, his hands on either side of my head and his face only inches from mine. "What are you playing at?" he seethes disdainfully.
My blood pounds terribly loud in my ears. "Nothing," I croak, trying to calm myself.
"Liar." Malfoy hisses, so close now that our noses are almost touching. "What reason do you have to forgive me, be nice to me? I have never been anything but horrible to you. Why should you treat me any different?"
Staring into those deep silver pools, I dare to smile softly. "Because I'm different."
Pushing a stunned Malfoy of my way, I walk to one of the guest rooms at the end of the hall. I lock the door behind me and fall back against it, surprised tears rolling down my face.

What the fuck am I doing?

___________________________________________________________________

What the fuck am I doing?

After quickly putting out the candles in the entrance hall, I withdraw into the comforting darkness of the library. Sitting in a large plush armchair, I draw my knees to my chest in an effort to make myself as small as possible. I close my eyes and wish myself far away from here. Yet, as I open them again, I still see nothing but the dark shadows of the books around me and the small rays of light fighting to pierce the worn moth eaten curtains.
I hit my fists to my temples, trying to get the memory of what just occurred out of my head.

You attacked Potter. Thud. You practically ripped his throat out in your frenzy to drink him down. Thud thud. You drank him half dry, and then you practically raped him!

Thud.
"No." I tell myself, running my hands through my hair, nails digging into my scalp. He wanted it. He kept squirming and panting and gasping and- He wanted it!

My conscience snorts loudly. He wanted it? That's your excuse? Do you remember the night you became like this? Didn't you 'want it' then, too? But he wouldn't give it to you, would he? Because he knew that you would regret it. Just like Potter will.

I can't help but to laugh out loud, the hollow sound echoing in the empty room. Oh, how thoughtful of him! I'm sooo grateful of that vampire. To bad he didn't pay any mind to the fact that I maybe would regret being a fucking blood-thirsty monster, too!
Don't change the subject, you idiot, the nasty voice of truth continues. You know exactly what I'm talking about.

Before I have time to answer my inner voice fades away. I am left alone, my constant thoughts of guilt and regret my only company.
- 7
- 8
- 9
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For the Want of a Nail