Deligo Sanguis

Chapter Thirteen

Octavian Septimus Snape

ONE

Four weeks had passed and still Harry hadn’t rejoined the school. The facts of vampirism weren’t difficult for him to grasp, but responding when he was called Octavian was bit trickier. He was starting to get used to it, but he still thought of himself as Harry. The hardest thing to get over was his new fascination with colors. He’d often become distracted when the light hit things in a certain way, staring at the object until Airy called him back to attention. She told him that the fascination would fade as he became accustomed to his new vision.

Father had dismantled the potion that was used to turn him, but unfortunately, there was no way to create an antidote. The potion did essentially what a vampire does when it turns someone; it vanished most of his blood and replaced it with vampire blood. Not surprisingly, the key ingredient was vampire blood. Father believed that it had to have been one of Voldemort’s minions, though he was no closer to discovering whom. He’d ruled out Ravenclaw, Slytherin and Gryffindor, and was now working his way through Hufflepuff. He said it was most likely one of the professors because he’d yet to find a Hufflepuff who excelled at potions. Harry had chuckled at that.

He was now standing behind a closed door in the same small room off of the Great Hall that he’d gone to after his name had been pulled out of the Goblet of Fire. He was nervously wringing his hands in front of him, rubbing his forehead to make sure the makeup he’d used to cover his scar was still in place, and just generally freaking out. It was time to go back to school, and Harry had a feeling he knew just what the Sorting Hat was going to say.

Just as he became certain that he couldn’t go through with it, the door opened and McGonagall ushered him into the Hall. Dumbledore was standing at his place at the head table.

“Now, I would like to introduce a new sixth year student,” he said, beaming at the curious faces of hundreds of students who were staring at Harry with wide eyes. “He is joining us after being home schooled for most of his magical training. I would like all of you to give him a warm welcome.”

“Octavian Snape,” McGonagall said in a carrying voice that started whispers all around the Hall. “You will sit on the stool, place the Sorting Hat on your head and wait to be sorted into your new House.”

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat while nodding nervously. He glanced at Draco before the Hat dropped onto his head and found that the blonde wasn’t even looking in his direction.

“Harry Potter, back again,” the Sorting Hat said in his ear.

‘Hello,’ Harry thought.

“Are you going to let me put you where you should be this time?” the Hat asked in a haughty voice that made Harry squirm.

‘Wherever you think is best,’ he thought. ‘I’m not very concerned with that this time around.’

“Ah, but you are,” the Hat countered. “But, since you’ve decided not to interfere it’ll have to be… SLYTHERIN!” The Hat shouted the last for the whole Hall to hear. Harry had known that would be the Hat’s decision, but he didn’t like it. How was he supposed to keep himself away from Draco if he shared a House with the boy? He took the Hat off, handed it to McGonagall and made his way to the Slytherin table. He noticed that Draco still wouldn’t look at him, and wondered what that was about.

“Very good,” Dumbledore said, though he didn’t sound like he meant it. He was looking at Harry with no small amount of disappointment. Harry felt somewhat accomplished by that look. If he could irk Dumbledore then it was a good day indeed. “With that done, we can eat!” The tables filled with the usual fare for Hogwarts students at dinnertime and the noise level went up as students began talking to their friends.

Harry removed a small brown paper sack from inside his robes. Arêthüsa had come up with this particular idea. Inside the sack, he had blood, transfigured to look like food so people wouldn’t wonder why he never ate.

“Hey, Snape,” Pansy Parkinson asked from three places to Harry’s left. “What’s with the sack?”

“It’s my dinner,” Harry replied coldly, glaring at the girl.

She smirked at him. “What’s the matter, Hogwarts food not good enough for you?”

Harry smirked right back, his eyes colder than ice. Pansy seemed to wilt under the glare. “My father feels that it is unsafe to consume Hogwarts food after what happened to Harry Potter.”

True to form, Father was also removing his dinner from a paper sack. He thought that if their cover story involved Harry Potter in any way, they should at least do the thing properly.

Pansy looked down at her plate, seemingly contemplating whether she felt her own food was safe to eat. She looked back at Harry. “Can I share some of yours?” she asked.

“I think not,” Harry replied with another cold smirk. “If you wanted to avoid Hogwarts fare, you should very well have come prepared. It’s not my job to keep you fed.” He didn’t bother with introducing himself to anyone. He felt that as a Snape, he should present himself as aloof and unfriendly as possible. Aside from that, he had no interest in making friends with people who had strived to make his life hell for the past six years. The only one he was interested in seemed to be ignoring his existence completely. He looked over at Draco and attempted to open a conversation. “Are you a Malfoy?” he asked.

Draco looked up at him and Harry was shocked by the sheer loathing in his eyes. He’d thought that Draco would want to make friends with Snape’s offspring. “Yes,” he said. “What difference does it make to you, Snape?”

“None at all,” Harry replied. “I was only curious because of your pale hair.”

“Why don’t you shove it up your pie hole, Snape?” Draco snarled maliciously.

Harry swallowed and raised his eyebrow in question. “Have I offended you, Malfoy?” he asked. “I certainly didn’t intend to.”

“Your very existence offends me,” Draco snapped. “That your greasy, good for nothing father procreated offends me.”

“What has my father done to you?” Harry snapped back, his patience running out. “He’s always spoken highly of you. I can’t imagine why, now that I’ve met you.”

“Eat me, Snape,” Draco muttered, returning to playing with his food. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Harry realized that the Slytherins around him had fallen silent to listen to the exchange. Many were staring at him curiously. “Have I sprouted horns?” he growled at them, causing them to return to their meals.

Harry began on his own meal, relishing in the flavor of the blood on his tongue. He simply couldn’t get enough of it sometimes. Airy had told him that receiving a regular supply of blood throughout the day would keep his skin looking flush and human so people wouldn’t suspect he was a vampire. He could feel the blood working its magic in his veins, warming him up and making his vision even sharper.

He watched Draco as he ate. He noticed that Draco seemed pale and was rather thinner that he’d been four weeks ago. His hair hung limply in his eyes and his robes, usually immaculate, seemed rumpled.

“Don’t you mind Draco,” Blaise Zabini said from his left, where he was sitting looking dashing. He realized that he’d never seen him up close and marveled at how handsome he was. He had straight black hair that fell just passed his shoulders and dark inquisitive eyes that spoke of his Slytherin cunning. “He’s been moping about for ages. He’s suddenly decided that he hates your father’s guts, though I can’t imagine why. Professor Snape has always taken good care of Slytherin. Draco’s just been in an odd mood, that’s all.”

Harry observed the way the light seemed to sparkle in his hair. “And you are?” he asked.

He held out his hand, which Harry shook politely. “Blaise Zabini,” he replied with a small smile. “I’m in your year.”

“Pleasure,” Harry drawled, realizing that he’d never actually been involved in the Gryffindor baiting over the years. He wondered why. “He looks pale,” he said, gesturing toward Draco. “Is he ill?”

“I can hear you, you know,” Draco said, glaring at him again. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I am not ill.”

Blaise touched Harry’s arm lightly. “I’m not sure what happened,” he muttered quietly so Draco wouldn’t hear him. “He’s gone into this strange depression. None of us know what it’s about, so we just steer clear of him most of the time.”

Harry nodded, a worried frown creasing his brow. Looking up and around the Hall, he found Ron and Hermione watching him closely. They gave him small tentative smiles, which he returned, making them relax in their seats.

Blaise finished his dinner and stood up. “Are you finished?” he asked.

Harry nodded, slipping his sack back into his robes.

“Follow me then. I’ll show you to the dorms.”

Harry nodded again and stood up, wondering why one of the Prefects hadn’t taken on the responsibility.

“We’re in the dungeons,” Blaise said, moving to a side door and descending down into the bowels of the castle. “It’s nice down there, if a bit damp. The House Elves keep the fires going though, so it never gets too bad.”

“I see,” Harry muttered, following him at a sedate pace, trying not to let on that he knew just where Slytherin was located.

“Our House colors are green and silver,” Blaise went on. “And our mascot is a snake.”

“Yes, I heard that Salazar Slytherin was a Parslemouth,” Harry supplied, looking at the drab portraits they were passing along the dark corridor.

Blaise looked at him with surprise. “How do you know that?” he asked.

“Just because I haven’t been attending Hogwarts does not mean that I’ve never read Hogwarts, a History.” And during his four week sabbatical he had indeed read Hogwarts, a History. Hermione would have been proud. “Perhaps you should consider doing the same.”

Blaise blushed crimson. “I just might do that,” he said, though his voice was considerably colder than it had been. Harry figured he must be pulling off the Snape thing rather well. “Here we are,” he said after another moment of silent walking and gestured at the wall. “This is the Blank Bit of Wall, as we call it. Listen carefully. Morsmordre.”

Harry’s eyebrow went up. “Who decides the password?” he asked.

Blaise shrugged, obviously oblivious about what that particular incantation did. “The seventh year Prefects.”

“You should inform them that they are imbeciles,” Harry said, sliding passed him and into the common room, where he sat down on the leather divan. Blaise sat down next to him with a curious expression

“Why are they imbeciles?” he asked.

“First of all, using incantations for passwords is dangerous. Secondly, that incantation is directly from the Dark Lord’s arsenal of spells. They may as well paint a sign that reads ‘Death Eaters inside’.”

Blaise’s eyes were wide. “How do you know that’s one of You-Know-Who’s spells?” he asked.

“I have heard it spoken before,” Harry replied. “It summons the Dark Mark into the sky.”

Blaise swallowed. “Oh wow.” He disappeared to his dorm room and came back with his bag. He promptly removed several large books and began on his homework.

Harry didn’t have any homework, so he set out to find his room. Much to his dismay, he found that he was bunking with Crabbe. Joy of joys. He figured that the unmade bed was Crabbe’s and so sat down on the second bed, which was on the other side of the room. He saw that all of his things were already there, including a trunk with the inscription Octavian S. Snape on the front in spidery letters. He reached into the trunk, pulled out a tiny glass flask filled with a purple potion, popped the cork and downed the potion. It was his sun-blocking potion, which would last for thirty-six hours. He’d been instructed to take it every night before bed. After a long hot shower, he decided to try to get some sleep, clearing his mind thoroughly before doing so. He was asleep before Crabbe came back from dinner.

TWO

Draco was dead tired. He was pleased to note that they hadn’t bunked Snape Jr. with him. He knew he was being extremely unfair to Snape Jr., but he couldn’t help it. He’d been pissed at Snape ever since the man had refused to let him see Harry after the attack and again before the funeral. All of the students went to the funeral, but it had been closed casket, so there was no last glimpse of Harry’s body before it was committed to the ground. He was angry. He was sad. He was missing Harry terribly. He wanted Harry back, no matter how impossible that was. He still couldn’t accept that Harry was gone. Snape Jr. goading him at dinner hadn’t helped matters. He showered before going to bed, crying himself to sleep as he’d done every night since Harry had died.

THREE

Draco was very aware of the way Snape Jr. always watched him. Wherever he went, those impossibly green eyes were on him. Those eyes were another reason for Draco to hate the boy; they reminded him too much of Harry’s eyes. Snape Jr. had come to Hogwarts only two months ago, and already he seemed to have claimed a special interest in Draco, despite Draco’s sincere attempts to drive him away. He never spoke to Draco, nor did he come near, but those eyes were always watching, seeming to wait for something that would never come.

Draco had decided sometime in April that the best way to get over Harry was to find a new lover. He’d settled on a seventh year Ravenclaw named Marrieta Edgecombe. She was pretty enough, with her curly hair and brown eyes, and she had nothing to do with Harry. Since he’d started seeing her, he’d noticed the way Snape Jr. seemed to wish her dead every time he spied her on Draco’s arm.

Draco had known from the first that his affair with Marrieta wasn’t getting him anywhere. He still thought about Harry almost constantly and he still cried himself to sleep most nights, though not as often as he used to. He figured time would help him forget more than having an affair with anyone, no matter how sexy they were. Harry filled his mind and dreams. He just wanted to stop hurting, and so he kept on with Marrieta, hoping that some of that pain would diminish, if only for a while. He hadn’t counted on Snape Jr. being a hero though.

It was mid May and the sixth years were terribly bogged down with homework. Draco’s mood couldn’t have been worse. He knew his depression was affecting his entire House, who weren’t used to seeing anything but a poised and smirking Draco who only snapped at the rest of the school. Draco was snapping at his own Housemates more often than not now, and it finally came to a head one night in the common room.

“Hey, Draco,” Greg asked, sitting down next to Draco on the divan. Snape Jr. was across the room, his homework miraculously completed, watching Draco silently. The brazen boy didn’t even bother to hide that fact that he was watching.

“What is it, Greg?” Draco muttered irritably.

“I was wondering if you would help me with this Defense essay,” Greg replied, opening his book on the table.

“Did you read the chapter?” Draco asked.

“No, I thought you could just—“

“Well, you thought wrong then, didn’t you,” Draco interrupted. “Read the bloody chapter and then you won’t need my help.”

“You know how I hate reading,” Greg complained.

“I don’t give a shit,” Draco snapped. “I’m sick and tired of always doing your homework for you.”

“You don’t do it!” Greg countered. “You just help me out! I write everything!”

“Which is apparent in the terrible composition of your essays! Don’t you ever wonder why your grades suck?”

Greg stood up, grabbed the front of Draco’s robe and slammed him against the wall. Before Draco could even think about defending himself, Snape Jr. was there and Greg was flying across the room, landing in a heap on top of the coffee table, which collapsed on impact. Before Greg could stand up, Snape Jr. was dragging him up by his collar and slamming him against the nearest wall. When he spoke, it was in a deadly whisper.

“Touch him again and you’ll wish you’d never been born,” he said, his eyes glinting eerily in the firelight. “Do you understand?” Draco realized with a start that Snape Jr. was holding Greg’s significant weight off of the floor with only one hand, which was gripping his throat rather forcefully. Greg was quickly turning blue.

Draco rushed forward and placed his hand on Snape Jr.’s shoulder. “Snape, let him go,” he muttered.

Snape Jr. didn’t even seem to hear him and Greg was starting to look like he might pass out.

“Octavian,” Draco tried again. “Let him go. Calm down, I’m all right. Look, I’m not even bruised.”

Snape’s intense gaze turned toward Draco, scanning him up and down before releasing his hold on Greg, who collapsed to the floor, coughing desperately. He removed his wand from his pocket, casually flicked it toward the table and muttered, “Reparo.” The table flew back together instantly.

Snape continued to gaze at Draco, his eyes strange. After a long time, he nodded and returned to his chair in the shadowy corner, taking a sip from his hip flask as he did so. His eyes never left Draco.

Draco moved forward and helped Greg off of the floor. “I’m sorry, Greg,” he apologized. “I shouldn’t have said that. You read that chapter and I’ll help you. It really is the best way.”

Greg nodded and returned to the sofa, not looking in Snape’s direction. Vince was by the fireplace, apparently debating about whether he should beat Snape up. Draco didn’t think even Vince could defeat Snape in hand-to-hand combat.

“Got a new personal bodyguard, Malfoy?” Nott sneered from his armchair near the fire.

“I don’t even like the git,” Draco snapped off. “Don’t ask me what his problem is.”

“You should get a clue, Malfoy,” Nott said. “You think I don’t know why you’ve been all mopey for months? You miss Potter. Not so tough without your little scapegoat, are you? Maybe you wanted to give him a nice good bye kiss.” He mimicked kissing before laughing maliciously.

Draco saw Snape leaning forward in his chair from the corner of his eye, so he decided to adjourn to his room before Nott was seriously hurt. He could feel Snape’s eyes on him all the way out of the common room. He sat heavily on his bed, taking out his Seeing Ball and petting it lovingly. “Show me Octavian Snape,” he told it. The mist swirled before opening a window, showing Snape pacing about in the room he shared with Vince. He looked agitated. Draco decided it was time to find out what the hell was wrong with Snape. “Enough,” he said, deactivating the Ball.

He walked down the short corridor and entered the room without pausing to knock. Snape stopped pacing at once and began to stare at Draco. “You needed something?” he asked.

Draco closed the door with a snap. “What the hell is wrong with you, Snape?” he asked. “I don’t need you to protect me from my own friends!”

“It didn’t look like that from where I was standing,” Snape said dryly.

“Greg and I always get into it,” Draco snapped. “He wouldn’t have done any permanent damage. Besides, I can take care of myself.”

Snape snorted. “Of course you can.”

Draco hated how Snape was so much like his father. He strode forward to give Snape an angry shove and instead found himself pushed up against a wall. Snape, who had looked angry, now looked rather lustful. It was unnerving.

“Let me go,” Draco demanded coolly.

Snape ran his finger down Draco’s jaw. “Gods, I’ve missed you,” he murmured, now running his thumb over Draco’s lips. The touch felt so familiar. Suddenly Snape was kissing him, his tongue exploring Draco’s mouth with fierce abandon. The kiss felt familiar as well, as though he was kissing Harry again and as Draco’s eyes slid shut, he forgot it wasn’t Harry he was kissing.

Snape’s hand went around his waist, pulling his body close, and began working his way down Draco’s throat. Just as Draco was beginning to feel hot and bothered, Professor Snape burst into the room and pulled Snape Jr. away from Draco forcefully.

“Octavian, calm down,” the professor was saying.

Octavian was struggling against him, trying to get back to Draco, but he was making a conscious effort not to hurt his father.

“Octavian, snap out of it!” Snape demanded, shaking his son, who didn’t seem to hear him. “Harry, listen to me!” Snape snapped harshly.

Draco’s world froze when Octavian responded to that. He stared at his father, his struggling coming to a halt.

Snape pulled him into a tight hug, petting his hair. “That’s it, Harry,” he murmured. “Calm now. That’s it.”

Octavian began sobbing. “I almost…” he gasped. “I almost…” He couldn’t seem to finish the thought.

“I know, Harry,” Snape cooed. “It’s all right now.”

Harry… Draco’s mind couldn’t process what he was hearing. Why was Snape calling his son Harry? It couldn’t be what Draco was thinking. They couldn’t have… could they? Why would Harry lie to him this way? Didn’t he realize how much Draco was hurting without him? “Harry?” he asked in a small voice he didn’t recognize as his own. Tears came to his eyes as Snape turned his gaze on him, that one look confirming Draco’s suspicions.

“Go back to your room, Draco,” Snape said gently. “I’ll explain everything to you shortly.”

Draco felt numb and confused as he retreated to his room, waiting for Snape in cold desperation, needing to know what was happening.

FOUR

Severus took Harry back to his private quarters, holding the still sobbing teen gently. “Stay here, Harry,” he said, gently pushing his son down onto the divan. “I have to speak with Draco. I want you to stay here and calm down.”

Harry nodded silently, wiping the blood stained tears from his face with the sleeve of his robe.

Severus sighed heavily, running a hand over his face before returning to Slytherin. He was not looking forward to telling Draco the full truth. He considered just Obliviating the boy, but he knew this scene would repeat itself if he did that, so refrained. He entered Draco’s room to find the blonde staring at the wall blankly. He turned anguished eyes on Severus as he sat down on the bed.

“What’s going on?” Draco asked. “Why are you calling Octavian ‘Harry’?”

Severus sighed again. “Because that’s his name,” he said.

“I don’t understand,” Draco muttered. “Is it Harry? My Harry?”

“Yes.”

“So he’s not your son then? That was just a cover?”

“No, he’s my son.”

“How is that possible!” Draco exclaimed, throwing his hands up into the air.

Severus resigned himself to telling Draco the whole sordid tale of Lily and him and their baby boy. Draco stared at him incredulously as the story unfolded, his eyes disbelieving.

“Why didn’t he ever tell me?” Draco whispered once Severus had stopped talking.

“I told him not to,” he replied.

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t know if you would tell your father.”

“Why didn’t he tell me though? I thought he cared about me. I thought he might have made an attempt to let me know.”

“The attack a few months ago was a potion that had been placed into his food,” Severus said carefully. “It turned him into a vampire.” Subtlety had never been his strongest point.

Draco gasped.

“He didn’t tell you because he wishes to protect you. He didn’t want to turn you into a vampire as well.”

“Shouldn’t that be my decision?” Draco asked angrily. “How could he make a choice like that for me? How could he not even give me the option?”

Severus shook his head tiredly. “He doesn’t see it that way, Draco,” he muttered. “He knows the decision you’d make. He values humanity; he always has. He doesn’t want to turn you, no matter what your wishes are. He would feel as though he’d taken your life. Why do you think he was crying before?”

Draco sighed, seeming to deflate before Severus’ eyes. “So that’s it then? I’m supposed to pretend that I don’t care about him? I’m supposed to act like he means nothing?”

“I cannot tell you how to act, Draco. All I can do is ask you to keep Harry’s happiness in mind with whatever decision you make. Just know that he’d be devastated if he turned you.”

Draco nodded. “Okay, I won’t approach him then. It’ll be hard, but I suppose I’ll have to get used to the idea that I can’t have him after all.”

Severus was somewhat relieved by that, despite the sadness he felt for the young man next to him. Draco had grown up so much over the last year. Severus hated that the children around him were being forced to grow up so quickly with him powerless to stop it. He was tired of fighting, he was tired of wars, but most of all he was tired of watching life around him being destroyed by the mindless prejudice of people like the Dark Lord and his followers.

FIVE

Harry watched quietly from the sidelines, trying to keep as much distance as possible between himself and Draco. He didn’t want a repeat of that night nearly three weeks ago. Term was almost over. His last exam was the next day before they had half a week of freedom then the train would whisk the others away. Harry sighed; at least it would be easier for him without Draco so close. Perhaps he could use the two-month holiday to work on his control.

He was walking along the corridor after finishing his last exam, Charms, when he heard an interesting noise. It sounded like heavy breathing. His natural curiosity taking over, Harry went to investigate. It was coming from behind one of the suits of armor. Walking up, he froze when he saw what it was. Draco was there, with his tongue down Marrieta Edgecombe’s throat. She was panting with arousal, which Harry realized with disgust, he could smell. An unreasonable jealous rage came over him. He wanted nothing better than to rip the little tart’s head off. She was touching what was solely his. Draco belonged to him and she had her filthy hands on Draco’s bottom. Harry was shaking with rage, and had taken a step forward before he realized what he was doing. He froze in place when he noticed, fighting to regain control.

‘You gave him up,’ he thought to himself, balling his hands into fists to keep them from shaking. ‘You have no claim to him.’ It did not relieve his need to tear Merrieta Edgecombe into little pieces. He spun on his heal before he did something he would regret later and went into one of the unused classrooms to wait for Father. The spells Father had cast to monitor his moods should bring the man along shortly, just like they had the day he’d almost turned Draco.

Once the door was closed, Harry threw up a silencing spell before pacing the room rapidly. He let out an almighty scream of rage, picked up one of the chairs and threw it against the wall, where it shattered, hundreds of tiny wood chips raining down on the room. He continued screaming, picking up various bits of furniture and giving them the same treatment as the chair.

Suddenly the door flew opened and Father was there, his scent calming in its humanity, his eyes scanning the wreckage around the room nervously. He said something, but Harry’s blood was pounding through his veins and he couldn’t hear what it was.

Harry’s vision was going white around the edges. He was barely aware of Father leading him back to the rooms they shared during the holidays. Once he was back in his room, he no longer felt the need to destroy something, but he continued pacing angrily, images of Draco kissing Marrieta swirling through his mind, consuming him. Draco belonged to him, goddamn it, no one else! He absolutely hated Marrieta Edgecombe.

SIX

Draco had tried to forget, but he couldn’t. He even propositioned Marrieta again in the hope that he could remove Harry from his mind, but it hadn’t worked. Now Harry hadn’t come back to the common room after curfew. He knew Snape’s password, as all the Slytherins did, but he wasn’t sure this constituted an emergency. However, if anyone knew where Harry had gone, Snape would. Draco had made his decision the night Snape had explained what had become of Harry. He figured all he had to do was make Harry agree with him. They belonged together. Draco simply couldn’t go on without Harry any longer, not with the knowledge that Harry was still alive. He would make Harry see his point of view. With that in mind, he made his way to Snape’s layer.

It was very late, so it was possible that Snape would already be in bed, but perhaps Harry was there. If so, then Draco could talk to him, convince him to turn him. When he entered Snape’s quarters, he heard voices coming from the bedroom.

“He just has to cool off, Severus,” the Irish woman, Airy, was saying. “He’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

Draco became worried. Had something happened to Harry? He moved passed the bedroom down a corridor that hadn’t been there the last time he’d visited Snape’s quarters a couple of years ago. He figured it must lead to Harry’s sleeping quarters. He reached a door at the end on the right hand side and pushed it open. Sure enough, Harry was pacing on the other side. He froze in place when he saw Draco, a strange glint in his eyes.

“Harry?” Draco asked, closing the door with a soft click. “Are you all right?”

Rather than answer, Harry pounced on Draco, pinning him to the wall and thoroughly ravishing his mouth in a near animalistic kiss. Draco moaned under the onslaught, tangling his hands in Harry’s silky locks. Harry grabbed him by the robes and flung him unceremoniously onto the bed. He literally tore the clothes from his body before pouncing on Draco again.

He ripped Draco’s clothes into pieces, flinging them about the room randomly before accosting Draco with his mouth. He kissed and licked down Draco’s body, finally taking Draco’s rapidly growing sex into his mouth, sucking hard making Draco cry out with pleasure.

He was in a frenzy, his eyes practically glowing with whatever had started this.

“Silencing… spell,” Draco panted, pointing toward the door.

Harry’s motions stopped and he stared at Draco with wild eyes before grabbing his wand and casting the spell. Once that was done, he threw his wand away, slicked his shaft, positioned himself and entered Draco in one swift movement.

Draco cried out as pain blossomed through him, spreading up his abdomen and down his legs before slowly fading into intense pleasure as Harry thrust fast and deep. Harry was kissing him everywhere. It was the most intense thing Draco had ever felt and then suddenly, Harry was biting into his neck, sucking on the vein hungrily even as he continued thrusting. The bite, instead of hurting, drove tendrils of ecstasy through his veins.

“Harry, gods yes!” Draco panted as Harry drank from him. Harry was pounding into him fast and rough and drinking his blood steadily as he did so, giving Draco a heady feeling of pleasure, yet making him feel very tired at the same time.

Suddenly Harry stopped drinking and leaned back, looking Draco full in the eyes as he reached up and tore open the flesh on his own neck. He lowered himself again and Draco latched onto the wound, drinking what Harry offered. He moaned deep in his throat when he felt Harry’s hand encircle his erection, but he didn’t stop drinking. He pulled greedily on that vein even as Harry bit him again. With that bite came the strongest orgasm Draco had ever felt. It pulsated through his entire body, making him release Harry’s throat and cry out his pleasure. It seemed to last forever and yet not long enough as spurt after spurt of semen shot out of him. The pressure on his throat grew stronger as he felt Harry’s climax filling him with heat. He latched onto Harry’s throat again, drinking deeply before allowing the exhaustion to claim him. That had been the best sex of his life.

SEVEN

Airy sat in the armchair quietly, watching the two vampires sleep. She couldn’t believe that Draco had come. She sighed heavily and rubbed her eyes, feeling as though the weight of the entire world had fallen on her already overburdened shoulders. She turned her attention back to the bed when Harry began to stir. He was licking the back of Draco’s neck. He sat up suddenly and stared at Airy. She knew then that the Jealous Rage had not released him. He was giving her a distinctly challenging look.

Draco awoke then, sitting up and nuzzling Harry fondly. Airy knew that the submissive bond in him would be stronger because Harry had been in a Jealous Rage when they’d copulated. It would instill in Draco a strong need to please Harry and keep him happy. Draco was kissing Harry’s neck now, but Harry’s eyes remained on Airy.

He pulled Draco forward into a deep kiss, his eyes never leaving her. Once he finished with his kiss, Draco went back to kissing his neck.

“Who do you belong to, Draco?” Harry asked, running his hands along Draco’s back.

“Only you, my love,” Draco murmured, moving his kisses to Harry’s bare chest. Both boys seemed completely oblivious to their nakedness.

“Who can fuck you, Draco?” Harry asked, his eyes daring Arêthüsa to touch his mate.

“Only you, Harry,” Draco replied, continuing his slow exploration of Harry’s body.

Airy only crossed her arms patiently, waiting for Harry’s show of possessiveness to pass.

“Who takes care of you, Draco?” he asked, running his hands through Draco’s hair.

“You, my love,” Draco said, running his hands down Harry’s legs.

Airy leaned forward and Harry hissed at her threateningly, his fangs showing clearly.

“I’m not going to touch him, Harry,” she assured him.

“He’s mine,” Harry said defensively.

“I know, Harry,” she replied. “But maybe you should feed him. He looks a bit peaky.”

Harry watched her closely as he reached out for his flask, which he placed at Draco’s lips, encouraging him to drink. Draco drank deeply for several minutes before releasing it and allowing Harry to drink from it. The wildness in Harry’s eyes slowly faded, leaving him looking normal as before. Draco had gone back to kissing him.

“Enough,” Harry said gently, and Draco stopped kissing him right away.

“Congratulations, Harry,” Arêthüsa said. “Yeh’ve claimed yer mate.”

Harry looked at Draco quietly for a long moment before he said, “It was what he wanted.” Thankfully, he didn’t seem upset about it. Airy let out the breath she’d been holding in. Perhaps things would work out for the best after all.



Author’s Note: See? I told you I’d make it better. Hehehehe