VAMPIRE TEMPTATION

Thanks again to Narcissa Black, my wonderful beta on this fic.


Chapter Eight


The next morning, Harry sat beside Hermione and Ron in Advanced Charms, his wand levitating a chair without looking at it. “‘Mione. Can you set up a meeting for tomorrow night for the DA group?” he quietly asked.

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Hermione said. “Are you going to tell them about your new, improved self?” She smiled.

“Do you think I should? Do you think they’d freak about it?”

“Some of them might be wary of you a bit Harry, but I don’t think you’d lose their friendship. They’ve . . . we’ve stuck with you for the past few years. As long as you explain about you not needing to feed off them, I think it will be okay,” Ron replied.

“Maybe. But not right away, I think,” Harry said after he thought of what Ron had said. “I want to invite some Slytherins to tomorrow’s meeting, and I want to be sure of their loyalties first.”

“Slytherins?” Ron asked. “Are you mental Harry?”

“Ron. There are the few that don’t want to side with Voldemort. Look at Severus and Lucius,” Harry said.

“How many?” Hermione asked.

“Not sure. I’ll have to ask Draco,” Harry smiled.

“Draco? Since when is he Draco?” Hermione smirked.

“Probably all his life ‘Mione,” Harry replied smartly.

“Funny Harry,” Hermione grinned.

“Are you going to let the others know of the plan for Halloween?” Ron asked.

“Yes. I also want Severus, Lucius and Dumbledore there. I’ll talk to Draco after their Quidditch practice tonight.”



Later, after their classes, Harry sat in the Gryffindor seats by himself, watching the Slytherin players practice. “Come to check out the competition Potter?” Draco shouted out from his perch on his hovering broom.

“Got to see what I’m missing Draco,” Harry grinned. “Maybe you’ll actually win against Gryffindor now.”

“Maybe,” Draco laughed. “It will be a shame not to go against you though.”

Harry mentally shook the thought of him actually against Draco . . . pressed against a wall, when the Snitch happened to zip over his head.

“Talk to you later Scarhead,” Draco laughed, taking off after the Snitch.

Draco was flying around after letting the Snitch go again for the second time, feeling Harry’s gaze on him. He kept glancing his way . . . feeling distracted . . . when he should have been paying attention to the other players. Courtney, one of the Chasers, was in hot pursuit of another Chaser when they got a little too close to Draco hovering in the air. The first Chaser . . . Krystal, called out, but the person was trying out the new Firebolt II and didn’t know it’s maneuverability. Draco backed up, but not quick enough as the tail end of the broom scraped against his cheek and neck. He felt the sting, and wiped at his cheek with his fingers, drawing them away to see a bit of blood.

“Gods . . . I am so sorry. You okay Draco?” Krystal asked, backtracking back to him.

“Yeah. I’ve had worse,” Draco smirked. “I’d work on the movements of the broom though.”

Krystal apologized again before flying away with Courtney. Draco slowly descended to the ground to make his way to the changing rooms to see how bad the scratches were.


Harry sat up straight when he saw the near collision in the air. He saw Draco run his fingers over the side of his face, blood reddening the fingers. The scratches weren’t deep, but the blood that Harry saw made his mouth water for a taste. He got up and descended the stairs to see how Draco was.

“Still here Harry?” Draco smirked.

“I saw the broom hit your face. Are you okay?” Harry asked as he stepped closer, pulling Draco around the corner of the changing rooms.

“It’s just a scratch,” Draco shrugged. He was unnerved by Harry’s hand holding his, so it took him a minute to notice that Harry was leading him away from the changing room, and the others. “What are you doing?” he asked suspiciously.

Harry took out a handkerchief from his pocket, spelled it wet, then advanced on Draco. Draco took a step back, his back hitting the side of the wall. “Stand still, and I’ll clean it up for you,” Harry quietly said, bringing his hand up to the one side of Draco’s neck, while the other slowly began to wipe the blood off the side of his face.

“I can do it myself Harry,” Draco quietly said, looking into Harry’s eyes. A shudder went through his body as Harry’s thumb began to brush the unmarked skin of his neck.

“I know,” Harry smiled, stepping closer, encouraged by the shudder that he felt from Draco’s body. He slipped his knee between Draco’s legs as he moved in closer. “You smell so good,” he huskily said, nuzzling his lips against the cuts on Draco’s cheek.

Draco’s hands went to Harry’s shoulders to push him away until he felt a wet tongue slide over the scratches on his cheek. His hands gripped on the shoulders harder, pulling the other closer. Harry’s hand went around his lower back, pulling him more firmly against him.

Harry’s lips and tongue caressed the scratched skin, healing the cuts closed as he got his first taste of the blond. His kisses moved lower, moaning against the skin when Draco arched his neck back in silent invitation. He fought the urge to sink his fangs in when he felt the rapid pulse beneath his lips.

Lucius leisurely strolled across the Hogwarts grounds towards the Quidditch pitch, in hopes of finding his son. He shot a glare at a few first year Ravenclaws, then smirked to himself when then ran back to the castle in fright. Running away from the big, bad, Death Eater. He entered the pitch, not seeing the Malfoy blond hair in the air, so went towards the change rooms. As he came closer, he heard moans of pleasure. He silently crept up to the couple and stopped when he saw Draco leaning against the wall with the unmistakable figure of Potter pressed against him . . . his mouth on Draco’s neck.

“DRACO!” Lucius cried out, pulling Harry off of him. “What the hell are you doing Potter?”

Harry’s gaze stayed on Draco’s, both their eyes smoldering with need. “I was just telling Draco about the meeting tomorrow night,” Harry huskily said, holding back a moan as he watched Draco dart his tongue out to lick suddenly dry lips. “So . . . are you going to come Draco?” he added, smiling suggestively.

“Um . . . yeah,” Draco quietly said, coming out of his daze. “What time did you say?”

“I’ll let you know tomorrow morning,” Harry said, then leaned closer to place a soft kiss on Draco’s surprised mouth. “I can’t wait to taste more of you,” he whispered against the corner of Draco’s mouth.

“POTTER! Don’t you have someone you need to save?” Lucius sneered, grabbing Draco’s arm to pull him to his side.

Draco was silent as he watched Harry’s back, still in a daze at what the hell just happened.

“Draco.”

‘Fuck,’ Draco thought to himself as he imagined Harry’s mouth on him again, wanting more.

“Draco,” Lucius repeated to get his son’s attention. “What was Potter doing?”

“He was . . . he was cleaning the scratches on my cheek and neck. Krystal’s broom grazed me when she was trying to control it. Harry was cleaning it for me,” Draco replied, looking at his father for the first time since Harry’s kiss.

Lucius grasped Draco’s chin gently to move his head aside. “There’s no scratches here,” he said, relieved when he didn’t see any puncture wounds on his neck.

“Really?” Draco asked, feeling the side of his face with his fingers. “Guess they weren’t that deep then.”

“Was he sucking on your neck?” Lucius asked.

“No . . . I don’t think so,” Draco replied. “Why? Did he leave a mark?”

“No,” Lucius shook his head. “What were you thinking? You can do better than Potter.”

“I didn’t plan what just happened Father,” Draco shrugged, turning to walk back to the school with his father in step beside him. “And what’s wrong with Harry? He’s smarter than he looks. He’s powerful, and he’s bloody gorgeous,” he smiled.

“I forbid you to see him again,” Lucius sternly said.

Draco stopped. “You forbid it?” He glared. “What gives you the right to tell me who I can or cannot snog?”

“I am your father. I have that right,” Lucius said, stopping to face Draco.

“Father. I love you, but you have no say over who I see or don’t see. What if Harry was ‘the one’? What if he could make me happy? Would you deny me that? And if it doesn’t work out . . . if there is even something there . . . it’s my life. My mistakes,” Draco softly said.

“Just don’t let him push you into anything you don’t want to do,” Lucius sighed, wanting to stop it, but not wanting to lose his son in the process. He turned from Draco and began to walk towards the school again.

“Are you going to be at this meeting tomorrow night?” Draco asked.

“Yes, as well as Severus and Dumbledore,” Lucius replied. He drew in his breath sharply and grasped his left arm as his Mark flared to life. “I’ve got to go son.”

“Be careful Father,” Draco whispered, hugging him close. He really hated this side of his father’s life.

“I’ll be back later with Severus. I promise,” Lucius replied, returning the embrace. He quickly made his way to the Forbidden Forest where Severus was waiting with his cloak and mask.



Draco sat by the lake, hoping his father would come back from his meeting. He hated when he had to jump to Voldemort’s bidding. He always feared that his father would not return. He was all that he had left after his mother was murdered by a jealous wife. She liked straying outside the Malfoy bed; unfortunately she was caught by the wife. He and his father were somewhat relieved to have her out of their lives. She was a beautiful woman, but selfish and evil, a strong supporter of Voldemort.

He was brought out of his musings when Blaise and Pansy sat down beside him. “Did your father find you?” Blaise asked, leaning back against the tree.

“Yes,” he was ‘called’, and had to leave,” Draco quietly replied.

“He’ll be back, Draco,” Pansy reassured, reaching to grasp his hand.

“Hopefully we can win against Voldemort soon,” Blaise sighed.

“That reminds me . . . Harry is extending an invitation to a few of us to attend his next Defense meeting,” Draco said.

“Those meetings he started in fifth year?” Blaise asked.

“Yes,” Draco nodded. “We need to talk to the few who can be trusted in our house. We need to be prepared.”

“Was there an age restriction?” Blaise asked.

“I’m not sure actually. Maybe just us three should go tomorrow night and find out more about it. We don’t even know yet if we would be accepted by the others in the group,” Draco said.

“Have you noticed how different Potter is?” Blaise asked, smirking over to Pansy when Draco started to blush.

“He seems more confident,” Draco said.

“And he looks good in clothes that actually fit . . . really good. Especially those leather pants,” Pansy dramatically sighed. “He’s a walking wet dream.”

Draco privately agreed with her, as he remembered his body pressed against Harry’s. He ran his fingers over his upper neck and cheek, and wondered why he could feel no trace of any scratches, just the residual feeling of wet lips and tongue . . . and a faint scratch of teeth on his skin.

tbc