Indago:Reborn

AN: I rewrote this chapter to better explain and segway. Sorry, guys, I sometimes forget that you all aren\'t in my head with me. ^_~


CHAPTER ELEVEN 2.0

Harry was happily sitting in a box. Draco had bought the box and it had smelled so good that Harry had gnawed on it a bit first. Then he happily climbed in. It was so warm and dark in the box that he couldn’t help but smile. Draco sat outside the box and Harry was happy that he was there. Soon, he knew Severus would come to the box and give him food and that would be good too.

Then an even better sensation came through his nerve endings. It was so pleasant. Harry looked down, but it was too dark in the box to see. It felt like… like…

“Draco,” Harry murmured as he opened his eyes.

“You are very lucky that you have yet to mistake me for someone else,” came the reply. Harry looked around him and found that he was in his bed; the late afternoon light was filtering through the window. But all he could see was the bed covers and the mound of his belly under them.

Wait. His belly had not been that large this morning.

“Ahhh!” Harry cried out as the warm and pleasant sensation finally registered in his brain. “Draco!”

The mouth that had been merely kissing the inside of his thighs had moved further up and was now kissing a quickly hardening piece of flesh. A tongue replaced the lips and Harry moaned.

“So nice to hear you make a noise other than screeching,” Draco chuckled from under the bedclothes. Then the tongue went back to work and lips wrapped around the shaft, sucking and pulling. Harry’s heels dug into the mattress and his hands gripped the sheets. He couldn’t stop his hips from thrusting and he felt the odd sensation of the top of Draco’s head bumping his stomach. When a hand clenched around one globe of his arse, Harry came, gritting his teeth and groaning between his lips.

The covers were thrown back with a flourish and Draco, wearing only his trousers, rose from between Harry’s thighs. He placed a hand on either side of Harry’s waist and leaned forward to kiss the top of the distended belly in front of him. Draco grinned at the flushed face of his husband.

“Feeling better?” he asked. Harry nodded while he tried getting his breath back.

“Then we won’t be throwing Severus out?”

Harry’s eyes snapped open. “Yes, we are.”

“Harry, you know he’s here to--” Draco began.

“No!” Harry rose up to rest on his elbows. “I could have hurt Hermione! And what is with the experiments? I am not some sort of freak!” Harry pushed at Draco’s shoulders to get him to move away to no avail. “I’m not a freak!”

“No one said you are,” Draco said calmly, holding his position, and therefore Harry, in bed. “Look, I’ll talk to him and tell him to tell you before hand, right?”

“I already told him that!” Harry growled. “He did it anyway! How is your telling him any different?”

“I’m more threatening,” Draco answered.

Harry stared at the blond and then pushed even harder. “Sod off, Malfoy! You want me to show him threatening? I’ll show him threatening!”

“No, you won’t,” Draco said calmly and grabbed at the shoving hands on his shoulders. “That is not your place.”

He got a foot in the gut for a reply.

Draco rolled back and away, cradling his stomach as Harry levered himself to the floor and pulled his specially made cotton trousers back up over his hips. Then he faced his husband across the expanse of the bed.

“Fuck, Potter!” Draco growled as he came up to glare at Harry. “You are this close to being put on the floor.”

“I dare you,” Harry seethed. “You do it and I assure you I am out of here!”

“I’d like to see you try,” Draco snarled. Harry smiled tightly and spun around towards the door. “Damn it!” Draco huffed and flung his hand out to the door. The touch of magic filled the room as the locking spells settled into place. Harry stopped and stared at the door. Before he could break the spells, Draco scrambled from the bed, still holding his stomach, and stalked to his husband.

“Alright, Harry, I got the message,” he huffed and grabbed Harry’s shoulder, pulling him around to face him. “The experiments stop unless you give explicit permission.”

Green eyes glared up at him. “I am not an idiot. And no matter how much you want me to be, I am not a trophy wife. I refuse to let you turn me into your mother!”

“Merlin! Now that was a few mental images I never wanted,” Draco grumbled. He grasped both of Harry’s upper arms and faced him straight on. “If you think that is what I am trying to do, I must have shagged you silly.”

“And if you think you can talk to me in that condescending way, you are going to be wearing your arse for a hat!”

“Gods, you’re feisty lately,” Draco smirked. “You know that makes the competitor in me want loose.”

“Piss off!” Harry hissed and turned to the door again. Draco turned him back to face him.

“If you don’t let go of me, Malfoy, you are going to not only be lonely at night, you also won’t have use of your right hand!” Harry growled under his breath.

“You’re just turning me on, pet,” Draco cooed. “Now relax and let’s attempt to finish this conversation before I toss you back on that bed and show you who the dom is in this room.”

“Who the hell do you think you are to tell me what my place is?” Harry shouted. “If I want to throw Snape out of this house, than that is what I am going to do!”

“Are you even listening to yourself? And when you start licking his boots within ten feet of him?” Draco drawled. “What then?”

Harry glared mutinously.

“Yeah, you didn’t think that out, did you?” Draco put a hand around Harry’s throat and began softly petting. “Now, listen to what I am saying. You go in there wand blazing and you will end up on the floor. Then I, being the chivalrous person that I am,” Draco ignored Harry’s snort, “will have to get angry at his treatment of you -- otherwise, you will only be hacked off at me later -- a fight may ensue and, well, let’s just not have all that, shall we?”

“I can get to him before the pheromones get to me,” Harry snapped.

“I doubt it. Who taught you most of what you know about offensive and defensive spells?” Draco shook his head. “This is not your fight. I said I’d take care of it and I will. Because that’s my place.”

Harry glared at him.

“And don’t laugh at me, like I’m some two year old having a tantrum!” he shouted. Draco didn’t even blink at the change in direction. Instead, he yanked Harry into him and wrapped his arms tight around.

“I’m not,” he said quietly into Harry’s ear. “But you have lost control and I either let you go at it or try to control you. I prefer to let you get it out.” He bit down on Harry’s ear. “I suppose that’s what my instincts are telling me to do, yeah?”

“I’m not a freak,” Harry murmured into Draco’s shoulder.

“No one said you were, pet,” Draco said and then happily led his husband back to bed where any self-respecting man playing hooky from work would want to be.


It took an entire day before Harry would speak civilly to Snape. He was not there when Draco spoke to Snape, but it appeared that there had been no hard feelings between the two Superos. Harry studiously did not think about the possibility that they had merely chuckled over his “silliness” together.

Three days after the lunch incident, Snape walked into the sitting room where Harry was reading a book and presented him with a small box of assorted candies and biscuits. He also gave him a fleece sweater that was four times bigger than what Harry normally wore, but now fit just perfectly.

Harry rubbed the back of his hand against Snape’s arm and all was forgiven. Especially, when Snape mentioned that he had arranged for them to have Harry’s favourite meal -- at the moment -- for dinner that night. Snape stated that it was because roast beef had exactly what Harry’s body needed right now. Harry only nodded and let the lie go.

“Master Draco, sir,” Ably said at the dining room doorway later that night. “There is a visitor. A Mr. Parkinstein.”

“Parkenstein?” Snape asked, as a bite of roast beef was half way to his mouth.

“You know him?” Draco asked.

“Yes. He is a zoologist. Written a few books. Nothing of note.” A flash of light interrupted the Potions Master. All three occupants blinked and then heard a voice from the doorway.

“Nothing of note, you say? I’ll have you know “Legends and Lives of the Sour-Mouthed Basstian”, was on the best sellers list for three weeks!” Another flash had both Snape and Draco on their feet.

“That is only because all of the printers were down due to a strike and you self-published, you dolt. And quit snapping pictures!” Snape hissed. Harry rubbed his eyes, trying to displace the spots dancing in his vision. Once they cleared he looked at their intruder. Mr. Parkenstein was a squat man with a thinning hairline and several chins. He wore tan fatigues that were stretched at their seams and appeared for all intents and purposes like a rotund crocodile hunter.

“And miss photographic evidence of the only Indago pack in existence together for a meal?” Parkenstein cried out as he hopped about, aiming his ancient camera. Another flash was followed by a crash as the still smoking object was flung against a wall. Draco put away his wand and strode toward the visibly distraught man.

“You have entered my house without invitation, scum. If you wish to be able to leave it alive, I suggest you go now and consider yourself lucky you only lost a camera,” he growled as he slowly closed in on his prey. Taking advantage of his height he looked down at the smaller man with a feral snarl. Snape was right beside him, crowding the man towards the door.

“This is amazing! The two dominant males are obviously protecting the smaller one. Amazing!” Pakenstein crowed excitedly, completely undaunted by his dangerous situation. “You have to see that this kind of information is crucial to have documented.”

“Yes, that is why I am doing it,” Snape growled. “We certainly do not need a third-rate bird-watcher attempting something so obviously out of his league.”

“And you are not coming anywhere near us with a camera, you little peasant!” Draco added. The two Superos successfully cornered the round little man but, in a surprisingly graceful manoeuvre that Draco and Snape did not anticipate, Parkenstein spun around the two and made a beeline for Harry.

“Ah, the subicio, heavy with child,” he said as he slid around the chair, putting Harry between him and the now enraged dominants.

“Yes, and you are being really rude and stupid,” Harry said with a frown. “They are not kidding when they say they’ll kill you. And I’m fairly sure they will get away with it.”

“And how are you feeling? What are you eating?” Parkenstein, who Harry could now see had many claw scars on his face and neck, had his nose nearly in Harry’s food and his grubby fingers were lifting up the small piece of roast beef on the plate. The two dominants had smoothly separated and were now stealthily closing in on the witless man from opposite sides of the table. Harry figured he had probably better do something before Parkenstein was served on a platter next to the roast beef. The truly disturbing part was that Harry actually wondered for a moment what the little man would taste like with gravy.

“Mister, you better get out of here. Seriously, they would kill you regardless, but with that rare Magical Beings Act, they can do it and not have to hide your body.” Parkenstein merely sniffed at Harry’s water goblet. Then, in a rather spectacularly stupid move, even for this man, he reached out and put a hand on Harry’s abdomen.

Harry’s fist was around the man’s throat in the next second and was lifting the frightened man up off his feet, the chair clattering backwards to the floor as Harry stood. Parkenstein’s face became red as his legs kicked in vain. The man flew threw the air and smashed against the wall, falling to the floor where the remains of his camera lay. The two Superos were on him in a heartbeat.

Mr. Paul Parkenstein was later found laying in the snow outside the Malfoy vacation home in Essex the next morning with several broken bones, contusions and lacerations. He declined to state how he received such wounds and soon retired from the zoological field, citing the need to care for his ailing mother who was, in fact, the current semi-pro Broom Racing Champion in her division.