The Vampire's Mark
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
7
Views:
5,963
Reviews:
30
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
7
Views:
5,963
Reviews:
30
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 2
Chapter 2 of 7
Disclaimer: All characters, original story plot, etc. are the creation of one of my favorite authors, J. K. Rowling. They do not belong to me however much I wish it were so. If they were one of the events in The Order of the Phoenix and most of The Half-Blood Prince would never have happened . (I love you, Padfoot!) I have merely borrowed them in a twisted attempt to amuse myself and hopefully a few others. Lawyers, please be aware I have no money should you or your client decide to litigate. The only thing I own outright is my collection of Rock, Metal and Alternative Rock CDs, and NO, you cannot take them. (A few aren’t even mine.) If you’re nice I might let you borrow one, though I doubt it if you’re trying to sue.
Draco whistles when he sees the house. “Nice place.”
“Thanks.” I usher him inside and into the spacious kitchen. Opening the fridge I say, “Personally I believe I’d rather a glass of merlot. Would you like one?”
“Absolutely.”
I pour two glasses and give him a tour of the house. Four bedrooms, three baths, a game room, indoor pool area, and media room later we settle into large overstuffed chairs in front of a conjured roaring fire.
“What year did you graduate from Hogwarts?”
“I didn’t. I had a private tutor. Why’d you assume Hogwarts?”
“The bedrooms are decorated in their House colors.”
“Ah. My decorator, Lavender, was a Gryffindor. I never made the connection.”
“Lavender Brown? She graduated with me.”
“Same house?”
“Hell no. I’m a Slytherin through and through.”
“‘Cunning yet intelligent. Let me guess you were Head Boy too.’”
“That’s me.”
“So, who’s this Potter person you mentioned? Old boyfriend?”
“Don’t I wish. But that’s another story. Potter was, is Harry Potter.”
At my blank look he snorted. “I thought everyone knew who Harry Potter is. The Boy Who Lived? He Who Defeated Who Must Not Be Named? Savior of the Wizarding World? Ringing any bells here? I mean sure it’s been ten years since the Final Battle but still…”
I should recognize the name. I’ve studied the battle extensively but it eluded my memory.
Draco laughs, the sound of it wrapping around me deliciously. “Potter would like you. You’re probably the only Wizard on the face of the earth who doesn’t know who the hell he is.”
“Where is he now? And why do you call him by his last name?” I was very curious about the two men’s relationship. I could use my mental powers to get the answers I sought but I’m enjoying the conversation too much, not to mention his honey timbred voice.
“No one’s seen or heard from him since the war, not even his two best friends. It’s assumed he’s dead.”
“You don’t believe that.” I didn’t have to read his mind to see that.
“I know Potter too well.” His voice took on a faraway tone. “Potter’s living life I figure. He never had the chance when we were in school. Merlin’s beard we use to fight.”
“You miss him,” I observed.
“Yeah. We have some unfinished business he and I. Potter saved my life during the Battle. My dad was a Deatheater,” he confessed. “I wasn’t. He tried to Avada me and Potter deflected it. He stepped right in front of it and it bounced off him.”
“That’s not possible.”
“For Potter anything’s possible. Something about his mum dying to protect him from Voldemort when he was a baby. Anyway, I owe him. I can’t believe I’m telling you all this.”
“I’ve been told unburdening one’s soul can be therapeutic.”
“Hmm.” He pauses to sip his wine. “This is delicious by the way.”
“I’m glad you like it. It’s a rare 1952 Italian vintage.”
“Here I am talking your ear off and I barely know a blasted thing about you.”
“Well I was born in this house and have lived here since. My parents died when I was seventeen. I enjoy good wine, books, and long walks. I don’t have a job because my investments are very profitable and am a patron of the arts although I have no talent of my own. I have a huge kitchen but rarely cook. You?”
Draco quirks an eyebrow at the deliberate shift in conversation but answers nonetheless. “I live at the family estate. My parents died in the Battle. My favorite things are playing Quidditch, clubbing, and riding Midnight, my stallion. No job, no skills that are marketable, and I also do not cook. That’s why I employ House-elves.” The next part was muttered half under his breath. “Damn that Granger. Wait it’s Weasley now.”
“Hermione Weasley? Head of SPEW?”
“Yeah. Know it all bushy haired…If it weren’t for her I wouldn’t be shelling out four galleons a week for the little buggers.”
I can’t help myself and laugh at his scrunched up nose. “I admire her efforts. Everyone should be so concerned about the plight of their fellow Earthmates.”
“You’re one of those? I never would’ve pegged you as an Elf hugger.”
“Elves are beautiful creatures. You should try it.” I added a sly wink. “Very passionate race.”
He colors at my innuendo and says, “Yes, well, anyway.”
I ignore his trying to change the subject. “Think of it this way; every creature, Muggle, Wizard, Werewolf, House-elf are all brothers and sisters at heart. We each yearn and desire the same things, someone to love, a roof over our heads, food in our belly, a life to live of our own choosing. We are more alike than you realize, Grey Eyes.”
His eyes widen at the endearment and I can see my lecture has given him pause. His mouth opens and closes.
“No need to answer now. Just promise to think on it.” I lay a hand to cover his. The skin is soft and the smell of cinnamon hangs in the air.
“I will.” Draco’s eyes bore into mine and electricity crackles between us.
I lean in and test the waters with a gentle kiss on his pink bubble gum lips. The soft moan is all the permission I need and I deepen my exploration. My tongue darts out and finds the entrance to his warm mouth. His gasp allows me in and I take advantage of the moment. He tastes exactly like Muggle Red Hots, cinnamon and sugar, a heady mixture.
I break contact with his sinfully arousing mouth and move on to his throat. Careful to control my hunger I nibble and suck my way down and around the slender neck. His shudders of delight and soft mewls of pleasure only feed my desire for the man writhing in my arms.
“Please,” he begs. “Just do it.”
“Do what, my beautiful one?”
“I know what you are. I’ve known from the moment I saw you. I can feel your thirst.” He offers his neck again but I distance myself, surprised by his words.
“And yet you came anyway?”
“Stupid, huh? But I had to. Can’t you sense the connection between us?”
He was being so honest I could only return the favor. “Yes. At first I thought it was only the Hunger but as we spoke I’ve come to realize it is more.”
“You haven’t fed tonight have you?”
“I only need to once a week but as of yet no, I haven’t.”
His fingers dance over the creamy skin of his throat eliciting a moan from me. He smiles and offers it once more. It’s becoming harder to resist drinking from him.
“Draco, I no longer wish to harm you.” I stand having made my decision. “You should leave.”
“Drink. I’ve read enough about the Undead to know you don’t have to kill me if you don’t want to.”
/The boy does have a point./ ‘No! Bad Vamp!’ I sigh, heavily at odds with my dual nature.
Disclaimer: All characters, original story plot, etc. are the creation of one of my favorite authors, J. K. Rowling. They do not belong to me however much I wish it were so. If they were one of the events in The Order of the Phoenix and most of The Half-Blood Prince would never have happened . (I love you, Padfoot!) I have merely borrowed them in a twisted attempt to amuse myself and hopefully a few others. Lawyers, please be aware I have no money should you or your client decide to litigate. The only thing I own outright is my collection of Rock, Metal and Alternative Rock CDs, and NO, you cannot take them. (A few aren’t even mine.) If you’re nice I might let you borrow one, though I doubt it if you’re trying to sue.
Draco whistles when he sees the house. “Nice place.”
“Thanks.” I usher him inside and into the spacious kitchen. Opening the fridge I say, “Personally I believe I’d rather a glass of merlot. Would you like one?”
“Absolutely.”
I pour two glasses and give him a tour of the house. Four bedrooms, three baths, a game room, indoor pool area, and media room later we settle into large overstuffed chairs in front of a conjured roaring fire.
“What year did you graduate from Hogwarts?”
“I didn’t. I had a private tutor. Why’d you assume Hogwarts?”
“The bedrooms are decorated in their House colors.”
“Ah. My decorator, Lavender, was a Gryffindor. I never made the connection.”
“Lavender Brown? She graduated with me.”
“Same house?”
“Hell no. I’m a Slytherin through and through.”
“‘Cunning yet intelligent. Let me guess you were Head Boy too.’”
“That’s me.”
“So, who’s this Potter person you mentioned? Old boyfriend?”
“Don’t I wish. But that’s another story. Potter was, is Harry Potter.”
At my blank look he snorted. “I thought everyone knew who Harry Potter is. The Boy Who Lived? He Who Defeated Who Must Not Be Named? Savior of the Wizarding World? Ringing any bells here? I mean sure it’s been ten years since the Final Battle but still…”
I should recognize the name. I’ve studied the battle extensively but it eluded my memory.
Draco laughs, the sound of it wrapping around me deliciously. “Potter would like you. You’re probably the only Wizard on the face of the earth who doesn’t know who the hell he is.”
“Where is he now? And why do you call him by his last name?” I was very curious about the two men’s relationship. I could use my mental powers to get the answers I sought but I’m enjoying the conversation too much, not to mention his honey timbred voice.
“No one’s seen or heard from him since the war, not even his two best friends. It’s assumed he’s dead.”
“You don’t believe that.” I didn’t have to read his mind to see that.
“I know Potter too well.” His voice took on a faraway tone. “Potter’s living life I figure. He never had the chance when we were in school. Merlin’s beard we use to fight.”
“You miss him,” I observed.
“Yeah. We have some unfinished business he and I. Potter saved my life during the Battle. My dad was a Deatheater,” he confessed. “I wasn’t. He tried to Avada me and Potter deflected it. He stepped right in front of it and it bounced off him.”
“That’s not possible.”
“For Potter anything’s possible. Something about his mum dying to protect him from Voldemort when he was a baby. Anyway, I owe him. I can’t believe I’m telling you all this.”
“I’ve been told unburdening one’s soul can be therapeutic.”
“Hmm.” He pauses to sip his wine. “This is delicious by the way.”
“I’m glad you like it. It’s a rare 1952 Italian vintage.”
“Here I am talking your ear off and I barely know a blasted thing about you.”
“Well I was born in this house and have lived here since. My parents died when I was seventeen. I enjoy good wine, books, and long walks. I don’t have a job because my investments are very profitable and am a patron of the arts although I have no talent of my own. I have a huge kitchen but rarely cook. You?”
Draco quirks an eyebrow at the deliberate shift in conversation but answers nonetheless. “I live at the family estate. My parents died in the Battle. My favorite things are playing Quidditch, clubbing, and riding Midnight, my stallion. No job, no skills that are marketable, and I also do not cook. That’s why I employ House-elves.” The next part was muttered half under his breath. “Damn that Granger. Wait it’s Weasley now.”
“Hermione Weasley? Head of SPEW?”
“Yeah. Know it all bushy haired…If it weren’t for her I wouldn’t be shelling out four galleons a week for the little buggers.”
I can’t help myself and laugh at his scrunched up nose. “I admire her efforts. Everyone should be so concerned about the plight of their fellow Earthmates.”
“You’re one of those? I never would’ve pegged you as an Elf hugger.”
“Elves are beautiful creatures. You should try it.” I added a sly wink. “Very passionate race.”
He colors at my innuendo and says, “Yes, well, anyway.”
I ignore his trying to change the subject. “Think of it this way; every creature, Muggle, Wizard, Werewolf, House-elf are all brothers and sisters at heart. We each yearn and desire the same things, someone to love, a roof over our heads, food in our belly, a life to live of our own choosing. We are more alike than you realize, Grey Eyes.”
His eyes widen at the endearment and I can see my lecture has given him pause. His mouth opens and closes.
“No need to answer now. Just promise to think on it.” I lay a hand to cover his. The skin is soft and the smell of cinnamon hangs in the air.
“I will.” Draco’s eyes bore into mine and electricity crackles between us.
I lean in and test the waters with a gentle kiss on his pink bubble gum lips. The soft moan is all the permission I need and I deepen my exploration. My tongue darts out and finds the entrance to his warm mouth. His gasp allows me in and I take advantage of the moment. He tastes exactly like Muggle Red Hots, cinnamon and sugar, a heady mixture.
I break contact with his sinfully arousing mouth and move on to his throat. Careful to control my hunger I nibble and suck my way down and around the slender neck. His shudders of delight and soft mewls of pleasure only feed my desire for the man writhing in my arms.
“Please,” he begs. “Just do it.”
“Do what, my beautiful one?”
“I know what you are. I’ve known from the moment I saw you. I can feel your thirst.” He offers his neck again but I distance myself, surprised by his words.
“And yet you came anyway?”
“Stupid, huh? But I had to. Can’t you sense the connection between us?”
He was being so honest I could only return the favor. “Yes. At first I thought it was only the Hunger but as we spoke I’ve come to realize it is more.”
“You haven’t fed tonight have you?”
“I only need to once a week but as of yet no, I haven’t.”
His fingers dance over the creamy skin of his throat eliciting a moan from me. He smiles and offers it once more. It’s becoming harder to resist drinking from him.
“Draco, I no longer wish to harm you.” I stand having made my decision. “You should leave.”
“Drink. I’ve read enough about the Undead to know you don’t have to kill me if you don’t want to.”
/The boy does have a point./ ‘No! Bad Vamp!’ I sigh, heavily at odds with my dual nature.