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Dance with the Devil	By : Sasunarufan13 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 1845 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor make any profit of it. J.K. Rowling owns it

Chapter List
- 1-Dance with the Devil
- 1
Author's note: This is part 2 of the Demon Dance series. Here the story takes a darker turn and threads the 'fucked up' area. Heed the warnings.
Warnings: a hint of slash; violence and description of wounds; slight gore; VampireHarry, IncubusDraco; AU; rather dark
I hope you'll like what my mind came up with. Happy belated Halloween!

Dance with the devil
Pain. Excruciating pain. The feeling of having his limbs torn off; his neck and veins ripped open; his fire hot blood spilling over torn clothes and rapidly cooling skin. Sounds of animalistic grunting and slurping reaching his ears while he made a futile attempt to struggle, to cling onto his consciousness, to fight off the bloodthirsty, deadly beautiful monster on top of him.
While razor sharp, pointy teeth bit through layers of skin, muscles and bones, he faintly scolded himself for letting his lust cloud his judgement.
In all those centuries of wandering across the continents, of surviving because his power had always been superior over others, he had finally come across that one being that was his equal. That one entity that had managed to cover his true nature to the extent that even he in close proximity hadn't noticed it until it was too late.
He cracked his eyes open and stared at the man, covered with his blood and looking magnificently in his hunger.
He should be furious; should be screeching in fury and change into his real form to attack and defend himself.
But he didn't. Instead of being furious or even horrified at the prospect of experiencing such a gruesome and painful death, all he felt was fascination for this particular being.
This man was his natural enemy – both of their species were at war since the moment they had come into existence. Both species hunted the same prey – if one wanted to survive, the other one had to die.
It was simply a rule of nature.
He smiled faintly and grew amused; his eyes following the white teeth that were creating a destructive path across his body.
Yes, the stronger one survived – a basic rule of nature. But their bodies were not natural in any sense.
So while his body would be destroyed now, he wouldn't die. He would come back, stronger than he was now and he would find this man again.
This vampire had sealed his fate by following him.
Their fates were intertwined forever now. There was no escape possible now and strangely he didn't mourn that particular fact.
No. This night was the start of something new, something dangerous, but fascinating at the same time.
They would be apart for an unknown period of time, but he would find him again. And when he did …
His smile grew wide and blood streamed out of his mouth when he parted his lips.
Emerald green switching to ruby red, onyx black and back to emerald clashed with his own grey ones and a snarl erupted from a heaving chest.
Raising his right arm, that was attached to his body by a thin strip of muscle only, he gripped slippery black hair and he bared his teeth.
"See you in hell, Harry," he rasped out and claws shot out, closed around the remaining chunk of skin and muscles that resembled his neck and pulled back.
The smile stayed on his face while the rest of his body got ripped apart.

He didn't possess any sense of time. He possessed no physical body either; what was left of him was floating through a black abyss.
His memories were unclear, blurred. He recalled that his name was Draco. Draco Malfoy, member of the oldest, ruling Incubus clan.
That was right; he was no snivelling weakling, but one of the strongest Incubus' the world had ever encountered. He was undefeatable.
Yet something had happened.
Something had occurred that left him in this strange world. What was it? What had caused him to lose his identity?
If he was still in possession of a face, he would have frowned.
An important fact was buried deep in his subconscious. He just had to bring it to the surface. Easier said than done.
While he kept aimlessly drifting between entities that were in a similar state as him, he slowly started to recall snatches of deeply buried memories.
Flashes of black, messy hair rose to the surface. The colour emerald green was uncovered as well, and it took a while before he realized that that particular colour belonged to a pair of burning eyes. Eyes that had stared at him in defiance, in fury and even in lust.
Had they shifted into black and red as well? He thought they had, but wasn't certain. He let the question pass with a mental shrug.
A scent was brought up again: sweet peaches mixed with the bitter smell of blood. Whose blood? His and someone else's, he decided eventually.
He recalled his hands gliding over strong, supple muscles; a smooth, sort of cool skin; a sleek torso. Narrow hips that had been pushed against his own; sharp hipbones; long, slender legs.
Sharp nails that had been used to shred his skin; white teeth buried in his neck and torso, tainted with red; plump, swollen, red lips pressed against his skin.
The sound of heavy breathing, punctuated by hungry, angry snarls. And with that sound came another scent: the scent of earth after heavy rain.
The scent unique to one creature of the night: the scent of a vampire.
A soundless chuckle escaped him. It figured.
He needed a name. He could remember gripping sweaty locks, staring straight into blood crazed eyes and uttering a promise.
A promise that had sealed both their fates; one that tied their fates together until the end of time.
There was no escape possible; they were bound forever.
Two entities as different as day and night, as fire and ice; enemies from the moment they had come into existence now bound together.
Mother Nature was probably having a blast.
Slowly, very slowly, he could feel his body becoming real again, solid; his time in this realm was over. He was deemed ready to return to roam across the earth once again.
Narcissa would mostly likely be pleased with his swift return.
Bones hardened, became solid and turned harder than diamond. Muscles, tendons, flesh, veins and organs followed swiftly, covered by a thick layer of soft, pale skin. His bald head was covered by white blond hair. Hands started to twitch; his chest rose up and down with each breath that filled his new lungs.
And as steel grey eyes were revealed, a grin – sharp as a blade – bloomed upon his restored face.
The name he had been seeking, had finally surfaced after being buried deep into his memory, like a treasure buried deep in the ground.
Let the hunt begin, Harry Potter.

Emerald green eyes, tinted with black, flew open; his breathing – not necessary, but handy when mingling between humans – louder than he wanted and harsh in the otherwise silent bedroom.
The man sat up slowly, a hand raking through his hair, gripping it tightly.
He swallowed and his throat felt parched, dry. He wondered whether Tom still had a storage; old blood was not as tasty as fresh blood, but it would have to do for now. It was still early, so he couldn't go hunting. A bottle from the storage would have to do for now.
Ignoring the wet patches on the bed, he slid out of the bed and stood up.
Only to fall down instantly; his left leg not able to support all his weight.
Teeth clenching down to keep the scream contained when a fiery bolt of pain shot through his nerves, Harry waited until he was certain the worst pain had passed.
When he opened his eyes and looked down, his breath was expelled in a big rush of air.
His leg was a bloody mess: the fabric of his pants was torn; bruises were blooming; bite marks littered his previous unmarred skin and through the bloody mess he could see hints of white: his bone.
A glance at his stomach showed red, long gashes; his blood dripping sluggishly from the wounds.
Taking a deep breath, his head fell back against the bed with a 'thump'. He would have to wait until his body started healing itself before he could attempt to stand up again.
"Tch," Harry uttered annoyed and glared at the opposite wall; his hands clenched next to his legs.
This was the seventh time that he had woken up to find himself wounded. First it had started out with simple bruising. While that had been weird, it could have been explained by the rough housing he did with the younger vampires. But then, those bruises were quickly followed by scratches, cuts, gashes that marked his skin like it was a macabre piece of art.
And now this: his leg shredded apart. He supposed he should be grateful his bones weren't broken or shattered. Although if this kept continuing, it wouldn't be long before he would wake up with shattered bones.
He had been a vampire for as long as he could remember – which was a very long time – and yet those wounds weren't what disturbed him the most. He supposed they should be, considering he was wounded when he was asleep and yet no one was near his quarters. No, what disturbed him the most were the dreams he had lately. Dreams in which he was lying on a soft surface and hands – as hot as fire – were touching him, gliding over his skin, marking it. Their touch seemed to burn on his skin, leaving imprints in the shape of hands behind.
Lips were constantly sliding over his body: pressing kisses on it, sucking and licking while sharp teeth left bite marks and bruises behind; the stinging sensation of the bite marks mixed with the sensual touch of those devious lips created a stark contrast that left Harry shivering and panting, nearly begging the other one to continue, while his senses became overloaded.
Those enticing, sensual touches and even the sharp edge of pain in his dreams didn't worry him – it was the fact that he dreamt that worried him.
Vampires didn't dream. They were incapable of visiting the dream world. As compensation of being able to mingle between humans in close proximity, the vampires had been made incapable of dreaming, only allowed to have a dreamless slumber until they were able to venture outside.
And yet, despite this rule of Mother Nature, Harry was having very vivid, explicit dreams. Dreams so vivid, he felt the repercussions in the real world. Repercussions that were rapidly becoming severe.
What the hell was happening to him?
A sharp wolf whistle made him snap back to attention and he scowled at his smirking godfather.
"Damn, Harry, did you have a wild day?" Sirius Black snickered and casually leant against the doorpost. "Oooh, did you finally decide to follow my example and got yourself your own wolf lover?"
Harry rolled his eyes and snorted harshly. "Remus is the only wolf whose stench I'm able – and willing – to tolerate."
Sirius narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You touch Remus and I will bite off your hands," he informed him idly.
Harry sighed and shook his head, hissing softly when the bite mark in his neck throbbed painfully. "Don't be stupid, Padfoot. I said I tolerate him – that's not the same as wanting to screw with him."
"So if it isn't a wolf, who messed you up like that?" Sirius asked amused and cocked his head.
"I don't know," Harry replied through clenched teeth and glared at his leg, which had started emitting a hissing sound: a sign that his wounds were closing up.
Sirius' eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "How could you not know? Your leg is practically ripped open!"
"As if I hadn't noticed that!" Harry snapped annoyed.
"I am starting to suspect that you love to annoy me, Harry," Tom's cold voice spoke up and Sirius stepped into the room to give the older man room to enter as well.
"Is it really too much to ask to be clean and not spill blood?" Tom raised an eyebrow and glanced disdainfully at the large puddles of blood and other body fluids on the bed and floor. He sniffed; his nose wrinkled in disgust. "Really, Harry, you're old enough to not make messes."
"Fuck off!" Harry growled and his eyes flashed red in warning. "This is not my fault!"
His chin was snatched up in a tight grip and he met cold, ruby red eyes. "I am not in the mood for games," Tom stated coolly. "Enlighten me as to what has happened if this isn't your fault."
Harry stared into the permanent red eyes and then slid his gaze to Sirius, who was studying Tom's grip with a frown.
The youngest vampire in the room swallowed and Tom's eyes flickered and flitted to his mouth quickly, before the older man composed himself again and released Harry's chin, though he stayed seated next to him.
"For the last couple of weeks, it seems I have started ... dreaming."
"Dreaming?" Sirius repeated perplexed. "Harry, we're not able to …"
"I know that!" Harry snarled. "And yet, that is what I have been doing."
"And these wounds are the result of these dreams?" Tom asked, studying the now pink, jagged scar that was the result of the healing process.
Harry nodded, forcing himself to calm down.
"What happens in these 'dreams' of yours?"
Harry shifted slightly, not comfortable with informing the two older men about the content of his dreams.
"It's … It's always the same person who keeps touching me," he muttered and refused to look either one of them in the eyes. "I can never see the face, but all it does is touch me and bite and kiss me. Although this is the first time the wounds got this bad," he added and stared dubiously at the fading scars.
"Is it male or female?" Tom asked flatly.
"Don't know. Like I said: all I feel are hands and lips."
Tom leaned back and frowned; his long nails tapping sharply on the floor. "There are not many creatures capable of accessing another creature's mind and even harm them through dreams."
"Do you know which creatures are capable of doing that?" Sirius asked curiously.
"I have heard about two clans capable of entering dreams and even inflicting damage in the real world through it – the Malfoys and the Blacks. You're the exception, though," Tom added and glanced at Sirius amused. "I suspect you and your brother are the only ones not capable of doing this. I assume it's because you both became vampires."
Sirius grunted. "Being a vampire is preferable to being a slutty Succubus," he sneered.
Tom chuckled softly and redirected his attention to Harry. "Harry, have you had a fight with anyone of the Malfoy or Black family lately? Did you anger somebody enough to start doing this?"
Harry pursed his lips and a frown marred his forehead. A fight with either a Malfoy or a Black … Wait, that weird, crazy looking woman he had had a spat with a couple of weeks ago – what was her name again? Becky? No, that wasn't it. Belle? No … Bella … Bellatrix?
"The only one I had a fight with in the last couple of weeks is some bitch called Bellatrix," he replied and snorted. "I had nearly caught my prey, when that stupid bitch alarmed that human and he was able to escape. We got into a fight about it and she left when a man came towards us. I think he was related to her or so, because she seemed to know him."
"Aah," Tom sighed and nodded. "Yes, dear, sweet Bellatrix. Bounded to the Lestrange heir and a Black in blood. I believe her speciality is seducing other creatures through dreams and in the end killing them."
"Bellatrix? Hold on, isn't she a cousin of mine or something like that?" Sirius wondered out loud.
"Yes, she is. Although I don't think your side of the family was close to her side," Tom replied calmly.
"Didn't she go insane a couple of years ago?"
"Does insanity not depend on the individual?" Tom retorted cryptically and continued, before Sirius could make a remark, "You certainly know how to pick out your enemies, Harry."
Harry grimaced and carefully bent his knee, feeling his new muscles protest initially at the action before they relaxed. "So what do I have to do to keep her out of my mind? I don't fancy waking up with a mangled body, you know."
"I have to do some research, but I do believe there is a ritual meant to destroy the Succubus' influence on the mind." Tom stood up, dusting off his trousers. "Meanwhile, do not sleep alone. I do not know how long it will take to find the ritual and set it up, but I would hate to discover that dear Bellatrix succeeded in killing one of my best men."
A cold hand sneaked down to pat him harshly on his cheek and Harry glared at the smirking man in front of him.
"Keep an eye on him," Tom instructed Sirius and left the room as silently as he had entered it.
Harry tsk'd and stood up; wobbling a bit before he regained his balance. "Should have killed that wench when I had the chance."
"Or you shouldn't land in so much fights, hm?" Sirius suggested airily and ducked out of the way when Harry's fist wanted to meet his face.
"Like you're one to talk," Harry muttered darkly and then followed his godfather out of his room, ready to take some much needed blood and receive a worried lecture of Lily.

If possible, the dreams grew in intensity. While he still was unable to see the face of the other one clearly, he could feel the outline of the other one's body. Hot skin pressed against his own cool one and nails ranked down his chest, leaving bleeding trails behind. And yet, despite the body's presence, he couldn't figure out whether the person lying next to him was a man or a woman. Somehow that information was hidden from him and it frustrated him.
The being never spoke in his dreams. While he didn't seem ashamed to let out the occasional groan or moan of approval, the other being kept silent throughout the whole dream. Only fiery touches and sharp bites, soothed by cool lips let him know that the other being was still with him.
Hands touched his face almost reverently, only to turn vicious when they reached his torso and scratched him, leaving long, shallow cuts behind. A small tongue slid over his chest, dipped into his bellybutton and traced his hipbones before it disappeared and was exchanged for stinging bites that left marks behind in the inside of his thighs.

When he woke up after the eight dream – for not every night he dreamt; it seemed to be purely random whenever the being visited his mind – a triangle had been scratched into his back and his thighs had been covered in red lines; from what he didn't have a clue.

When he surfaced from the ninth dream, he woke up to the agony of having all his four limbs broken in different places. It took him nearly a whole day to heal them all.

After the tenth dream released him from its claws, his body was bruised and battered, as if he had served as a punching bag and his throat had been nearly crushed. It took him a day and a half to recover and heal all the bruises.
Harry had tried talking to being in his dreams; had tried to ask what the hell it thought it was doing. As reply he only received warning nips and deep kisses that stole his breath away.

His friends, Hermione and Ron, had to rip him out of his eleventh dream when the being in his dream had started to shatter his legs. They had taken to guard him throughout the night, but had never been quick enough to wake him up in time to avoid being wounded. This time they had been quick enough to prevent the being from shattering the bones in both his legs.
Harry didn't want to admit it, but he was getting scared. The bones of a vampire were not easy to break – it was probably one of the hardest materials on earth – and yet this being was capable of doing all that and more as if his bones were made out of fragile glass, easy to shatter. What kind of power did this being have if it was capable of doing something like that? Was it even Bellatrix or was it someone else?
When Harry had asked whether it was possible that someone else aside from Bellatrix had the power to enter his mind, Tom had sent out his men to investigate the area in which they lived. Remus Lupin, who had very sensitive senses, had been able to pick up Bellatrix' aura. It had been very faint, clinging to the ward on the outskirts of their land, but it had been there and it was enough confirmation for Tom that Bellatrix was extracting her revenge.
It made Harry wonder why Bellatrix always avoided his neck and spine when she injured him – if she wanted revenge, why focus on bones that were easy to heal? Why not go for a lethal attack?
Harry wished for answers, but received none.

After the last dream, two weeks passed by without Harry dreaming once. He had just started thinking that Bellatrix had gotten tired of playing her little game when Tom summoned him to his office.
"You called me?" Harry entered the spacious room, staring at the man seated behind a large desk.
Tom beckoned him closer. "Yes. I have finally discovered the ritual to destroy the Succubus' influence on your mind. It took a while, but as it often turns out, the ritual was in the book I least suspected it to be in."
Harry cocked his head, coming to a halt in front of a chair. "I haven't had a dream in two weeks; isn't it possible she gave up?"
Tom narrowed his eyes. "No; Bellatrix isn't known for giving up. The two weeks were the time she needs for her final attack."
"What do you mean her 'final attack'?"
"Exactly what I say: when she pulls you in a dream next time, you won't leave it alive," Tom answered coldly. "The number twelve is preferred by Succubus for reasons unknown and the twelfth dream would give her enough strength to finish you off."
Harry swallowed, his body tensing up. "But you found a way to stop her?"
Tom inclined his head. "I would not have summoned you, if I didn't have a solution. Considering two weeks have passed today, she will most likely attack you today again. Unfortunately for her, the roles will be reversed." White, pointy teeth glittered ominously in the candle light. "One of you two will lose the battle and it won't be you."
Harry smirked back and spent the entire night setting up the ritual, feeling empowered by the knowledge that after this night, Bellatrix wouldn't be able to intrude in his mind again.

Thanks to the ritual and his friends and family acting as a barrier, Bellatrix Lestrange had been forcibly pushed out of his mind when she dared to pull him into the twelfth dream. The moment hands had closed around his neck, ready to crush it, his friends and family had started chanting the incantation until their combined powers forced the Succubus to retreat, lest she was swallowed up by the destructive flames called up by the chanting and she retreated with a furious screech, leaving Harry to open his eyes to a completely unmarred body this time.
He laughed loudly and accepted the hugs and pats on his back from the others.
He had won. Once again, he had won from the Seduction demons.

With the sun – weak as it was in the current season – high up in the sky on the thirty-first of October, Halloween, Harry laid down in his bed and closed his eyes, ready for a much needed rest. He wanted to go out later and see whether he could snatch a careless human back to his place. With the festivities taking place during the night, it would be easy to find a human willing to leave with him.
Hours passed and he opened his eyes slowly, blinking dazed at the red drapes of his bed.
Red drapes.
His bed didn't have red drapes.
He shot up, but had to fall back down when strong chains, wrapped around his torso, arms and legs, prevented him from sitting up.
Forcing himself to stay calm, he turned his head a bit, hearing a door open slowly and footsteps coming his way; a leisurely pace that let him know that whoever it was, wasn't hurried in the least.
"You know, Tom Riddle may be the strongest vampire alive, but even he can be blindsided."
Harry stiffened when the voice, as familiar to him as Ron's was, despite only having it heard one night, rolled over him and his breathing quickened. "No," he breathed out slowly.
A hand caressed his leg and even through the cloth of his jeans, he could feel sharp nails digging into his flesh.
"Thirteen dreams. Thirteenth dream on the night of Halloween," the man mused and stepped closer. "A promise made on Halloween."
The bed dipped down and a weight settled on his hips, two strong arms on either side of his head caching him in.
Steel grey eyes stared right into his panicked green eyes. "Tell me, Harry Potter," he breathed out. "Do you believe in demons now?"
"If not …"
Draco's eyes glittered eerily and he opened his mouth right above Harry's neck. "I'll be happy to show you one," he hissed.
An animalistic snarl erupted throughout the room, nearly drowning the matching scream of agony and a few droplets of blood landed on the wall.
The hunt had ended – it was time for Draco to receive his trophy. The Incubus family welcomed someone and the Vampire family lost a member.
On Halloween, nobody is safe and everything is allowed, this one night when the gates have been opened. This, Draco had learnt and it was time for Harry to learn the same lesson.
After all, on Halloween everybody was fair game …

AN2: Please let me know what you thought about it in a review. Should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.
Cuddles
Melissa
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Dance with the Devil