Be my Vampentine, luttie
Title: Kite String
Author: ????
Gift for: luttie
pairing: H/D
Rated: PG13 for a little language and VERY mild bloodplay
Word count: 2138, give or take a few...
You be a kite, and I'll be your kite string. Okay? - Kennedy to Willow, BtVS
Kite String
"Son of a bitch," Harry gasped when a car raced through a particularly large puddle, soaking him through. The sound of splashing footsteps behind him shook him out of his momentary shock and he began running again, eyes searching desperately for a place to hide.
"He's not going to stop, Harry," Hermione had said once he'd gathered the courage to tell her what was really going on. "It's not in his nature - it never was."
He knew she was right - she almost always was, when it came to these matters - but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't bring himself to invite Draco back into his home, into his life and heart. Losing him has been so painful - accepting what was left, this contorted shadow of his lover... Harry didn't have it in him. He just didn't.
Harry's refusal had not been accepted kindly. The first morning after he shut the door in Draco's face, his wand was missing. After that, former lovers - or anyone that had even tickled his fancy in the past - began dropping like flies.
The splashes grew nearer. Harry shook off his thoughts and veered left, shoving himself as far as he could into a small alcove. He felt the protection spell cast on the shop wash over him and relaxed, pressing his forehead against the cool glass.
The splashing footsteps came to a stop and Harry looked up, swallowing audibly. Even reflected on the dark glass, Draco's eyes were brighter than he remembered, more silvery than grey. His smile, glinting wetly in the darkness, was also changed - it seemed sharper, somehow. One thing was certain, though - even dead, Draco Malfoy was still beautiful.
"Not that the drowned kitten look doesn't become you, Harry," Draco drawled, inching closer, "but aren't you tired of these games?"
"Of course I am," Harry snapped, turning to face the vampire. "If you hadn't stolen my wand, I wouldn't have been playing at all."
Draco stepped closer, pressing his hand against the invisible barrier. It was so odd - like looking at him through glass. "I'm not going to hurt you, Harry. I don't want to."
If things weren't so dire, and Harry wasn't so bloody cold, he would have laughed. "And going after my friends is such a good way to avoid that," he countered, and Draco's eyes narrowed.
"None of them are dead, Potter," he said coldly. The imminent 'yet' didn't have to be said.
"This is why," Harry said softly. Draco's eyebrow rose in an achingly familiar expression of puzzlement.
"This is why I don't believe you when you tell me you're still yourself. That you still l-love me," Harry clarified, breath hitching - whether from the cold or the way his stomach turned, he wasn't quite sure. "The man you were - the man I loved - he never would have threatened me."
"I bloody well would have," Draco growled. When Harry drew back despite himself, and Draco's lips stretched in a horrible, bitter smile. "I would have done anything to keep you."
Harry felt his stomach drop, and Draco laughed. "Did you really think I was so changed? You know me, Harry. Think I would have given up on you, if you hadn't accepted me?"
"I don't believe you," Harry breathed, shaking his head. "I don't believe you would have-"
"What? Murdered that Weasel? I wanted to," Draco said, purring. "I wanted to so much. Every time he put his arm around you, every time he whispered something that made you blush."
Harry growled. "Wanting to kill someone is not the same as trying to!"
"I trust you realise that if I truly had tried to kill him, Fred Weasley would not be breathing right now," Draco said firmly. Then his gaze softened. Instead of clawing against the barrier, his fingers relaxed against it, almost caressing it.
"I'm a vampire, Harry," Draco said gently, but Harry flinched anyway. "And that... makes me different, on a very basic level. But beyond that, I'm still me, still Draco. And I love you."
"God," Harry whispered. Draco's expression was so desperate, so miserable - so very Draco that Harry's heart ached. "Will you just - stop it. Just stop it."
"Stop what?"
"Stop pretending!" Harry shouted, and was obscenely pleased when Draco took a step back. "Stop pretending you're anything but a monster! Stop following me around!"
"Harry-"
"What?" Harry was screaming now, and he wasn't sure if it was anger or frustration or grief fuelling him anymore. "You want to kill me? Is that it?"
"Will you just shut up and listen to me for a second?!" Draco shook his head in denial, frowning. "I don't want to kill you, Harry! I-"
"Love me, right. That's a laugh." Harry spat. Without thought, he stepped out of the tiny alcove, away from safety. "Go ahead. Kill me. Merlin knows it'll be more merciful than having to watch a demon wearing my lover's body pretending to care."
Before Harry could blink, he was pushed up roughly against the wall, feet dangling several centimetres in the air, staring into the fathomless gaze of the demon. Draco's teeth were long and sharp, unneeded breath wheezing out from between them and chilling Harry's face. "Shut up, Harry," the vampire hissed, and Harry found himself suddenly, inexplicably terrified.
He did the only thing he could think of. He raised his hand to Draco's face, cupping one cold cheek in his trembling palm.
Silvery eyes fluttered shut and when they opened, they were grey again, and Draco let Harry drop, though his grip on Harry's robes didn't loosen.
When Draco spoke, his voice was forcibly calm, controlled. "Let me take you somewhere warm," he said softly. "Get you something warm to drink, and an explanation."
Harry closed his own eyes. It sounded so good - being warm, being dry. Being with Draco. It also happened to be fucked up beyond the telling of it, because Draco was most certainly dead.
"Come with me, Harry," Draco whispered, turning his face into Harry's palm and whispering against it and Harry sighed.
"All right."
~*~
Harry stared into his cup of steaming, sweetened hot chocolate, cherishing the warmth it emanated. He heard rather than saw Draco take a sip from his own drink - it smelled faintly metallic and was served to Draco without being ordered, so Harry didn't want to know what it was - before he continued his story.
"I ran into the vampire who turned me in the first Muggle pub I set foot in," Draco smirked in remembrance. "This tall, dark-haired man walks up to me like we're old friends, pats me on the back before he realises I'm a bit young to be my father. He sits down without being invited and orders a pint of Guinness, and tells me his name is Marius, and that he's an old family friend."
The name seemed familiar and Harry frowned, making Draco smile.
"You'd think that in Romania I'd be more careful about talking with family friends," Draco said self-deprecatingly. "But I wasn't. Otherwise I'd have noticed he had the classical Black features, not to mention my mother's eyes."
"He was family," Harry said softly, and Draco nodded.
"My great-grandfather's brother, to be precise," he clarified, "which explains why I never even heard of the castle as a child, even though my mother owned it."
"Bet he wasn't too keen on you planning to sell the place," Harry surmised.
"Not really, no," Draco said dryly, fingers dancing around the rim of his mug. "I left the pub with him, actually, so I got to be turned in a musty alley smelling of garbage and urine. Glamorous, isn't it? It was three days before I woke up and realised what I was."
"I bet you hated it," Harry said, feeling the sympathy creep in despite himself. Pure-bred, pureblood-raised Draco turned into a vampire - it must have been awful.
"Are you kidding? It was brilliant!" Draco said, eyes glittering. "I saw things more clearly, could hear and smell every single person not only in the castle, but in the village below. And with enhanced senses, everything I felt became stronger, became more. There's a fire inside when you're turned, Harry - like hunger that will never be sated, and it feels perfect. Safe, and strong, and perfect."
Harry took a sip from his hot chocolate and grimaced; too sweet. "I don't understand."
"Close your eyes, Harry," Draco purred, and Harry did as he was told. "Think back on every single whim you've ever had - everything you've ever wanted, no matter how briefly - from a Christmas toy to smothering someone in their sleep. All the things you always wanted and couldn't have. Imagine what it would feel like to suddenly have the power to just - take it. All of it, without stopping."
"Intoxicating," Harry whispered, and a sound that oddly resembled a cat's satisfied purr emanated from Draco. "Freeing. Terrifying, though."
"Imagine me in the middle of it all - horny as fuck and high as a kite and terrified but loving it at the same time," Draco purred, and Harry shuddered. The very thought was tempting. "All I could think about was you, Harry - how much I wanted to share it all with you. That's when he introduced me to her. Kamelia."
What Draco wanted hit Harry like a ton of bricks, and he balked. "No. Bugger off, Malfoy! You're not turning me, as well!"
"Kamelia," Draco said firmly, soothingly, and some part of Harry must have listened, because he found himself calming down. "Tiny lady, about fifty years old. She was so gentle, so nice to me. He let me drink from her, let her calm me down before he explained what she was to him."
"She's his Consort, you see." Draco's hand crept across the table. Harry twitched when it settled on his wrist, but didn't feel the urge to run, not even when Draco thumbed his pulse point.
"Consort?" Harry repeated weakly, oddly mesmerised.
"His lover, his inspiration - his peace," Draco said, his eyes never leaving Harry's. "She's the one who keeps him in control. Who helps him cling to his humanity and remain the man he was before he was killed. She was none too pleased with him for turning me, and let me tell you, he got a kicked puppy look every time she scowled at him, vampire or no vampire."
Harry smiled despite himself, but Draco didn't. His expression was grim and his grip tightened on Harry's wrist.
"This is what I want from you," Draco whispered, searching Harry's face for something Harry couldn't name. "I love you, and I need you to keep me grounded. I spent four months there, trying to learn, but I can't do this without you. I need you to be my conscience, Harry."
Harry's heart was doing strange flip-flops in his chest. "I'm-"
"You're better than me at distinguishing right from wrong, always were," said Draco firmly. "I can't afford to lose my temper and kill someone - I'll lose you forever if I do."
Harry felt all the blood drain from his face. Draco didn't mind hurting people he didn't care about - come to think of it, he never had. The only reason Draco was making this attempt to reign in his new nature was because he wanted to keep Harry. If Harry bound himself to this, and he would be the only thing standing between Draco and the people he loved - he would never be able to walk away.
"I'm asking a lot, I know," Draco whispered, and Harry shivered with an odd sense of déjà vu. "I'm asking you to trust me with the lives of everyone you care about. I love you, though, and I'm willing to try."
"You said it to me, once," Harry echoed, his tone matching Draco's. "Those exact same words."
"You trusted me, and I kept my word." Draco's fingers squeezed Harry's wrist. "Trust me again?"
Harry gripped Draco's wrist and pulled him across the table. The kiss wasn't violent, or demanding; it didn't echo with the fear and frustration and lust Harry was certain Draco was feeling as well. Instead it was tentative, almost hesitant, and somehow full of promise.
Draco nipped at Harry's lip and he gasped when the vampire sucked it in. Tingles of sensation bubbled up in Harry's stomach and spread out everywhere, from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. He thrust his tongue into Draco's mouth, slicing it purposefully on a protruding fang, and moaned when Draco sucked it in greedily.
When their lips parted, Harry smiled, sliding his ankle against Draco's under the table even as Draco raised Harry's wrist to his mouth. "All right."
Author: ????
Gift for: luttie
pairing: H/D
Rated: PG13 for a little language and VERY mild bloodplay
Word count: 2138, give or take a few...
You be a kite, and I'll be your kite string. Okay? - Kennedy to Willow, BtVS
Kite String
"Son of a bitch," Harry gasped when a car raced through a particularly large puddle, soaking him through. The sound of splashing footsteps behind him shook him out of his momentary shock and he began running again, eyes searching desperately for a place to hide.
"He's not going to stop, Harry," Hermione had said once he'd gathered the courage to tell her what was really going on. "It's not in his nature - it never was."
He knew she was right - she almost always was, when it came to these matters - but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't bring himself to invite Draco back into his home, into his life and heart. Losing him has been so painful - accepting what was left, this contorted shadow of his lover... Harry didn't have it in him. He just didn't.
Harry's refusal had not been accepted kindly. The first morning after he shut the door in Draco's face, his wand was missing. After that, former lovers - or anyone that had even tickled his fancy in the past - began dropping like flies.
The splashes grew nearer. Harry shook off his thoughts and veered left, shoving himself as far as he could into a small alcove. He felt the protection spell cast on the shop wash over him and relaxed, pressing his forehead against the cool glass.
The splashing footsteps came to a stop and Harry looked up, swallowing audibly. Even reflected on the dark glass, Draco's eyes were brighter than he remembered, more silvery than grey. His smile, glinting wetly in the darkness, was also changed - it seemed sharper, somehow. One thing was certain, though - even dead, Draco Malfoy was still beautiful.
"Not that the drowned kitten look doesn't become you, Harry," Draco drawled, inching closer, "but aren't you tired of these games?"
"Of course I am," Harry snapped, turning to face the vampire. "If you hadn't stolen my wand, I wouldn't have been playing at all."
Draco stepped closer, pressing his hand against the invisible barrier. It was so odd - like looking at him through glass. "I'm not going to hurt you, Harry. I don't want to."
If things weren't so dire, and Harry wasn't so bloody cold, he would have laughed. "And going after my friends is such a good way to avoid that," he countered, and Draco's eyes narrowed.
"None of them are dead, Potter," he said coldly. The imminent 'yet' didn't have to be said.
"This is why," Harry said softly. Draco's eyebrow rose in an achingly familiar expression of puzzlement.
"This is why I don't believe you when you tell me you're still yourself. That you still l-love me," Harry clarified, breath hitching - whether from the cold or the way his stomach turned, he wasn't quite sure. "The man you were - the man I loved - he never would have threatened me."
"I bloody well would have," Draco growled. When Harry drew back despite himself, and Draco's lips stretched in a horrible, bitter smile. "I would have done anything to keep you."
Harry felt his stomach drop, and Draco laughed. "Did you really think I was so changed? You know me, Harry. Think I would have given up on you, if you hadn't accepted me?"
"I don't believe you," Harry breathed, shaking his head. "I don't believe you would have-"
"What? Murdered that Weasel? I wanted to," Draco said, purring. "I wanted to so much. Every time he put his arm around you, every time he whispered something that made you blush."
Harry growled. "Wanting to kill someone is not the same as trying to!"
"I trust you realise that if I truly had tried to kill him, Fred Weasley would not be breathing right now," Draco said firmly. Then his gaze softened. Instead of clawing against the barrier, his fingers relaxed against it, almost caressing it.
"I'm a vampire, Harry," Draco said gently, but Harry flinched anyway. "And that... makes me different, on a very basic level. But beyond that, I'm still me, still Draco. And I love you."
"God," Harry whispered. Draco's expression was so desperate, so miserable - so very Draco that Harry's heart ached. "Will you just - stop it. Just stop it."
"Stop what?"
"Stop pretending!" Harry shouted, and was obscenely pleased when Draco took a step back. "Stop pretending you're anything but a monster! Stop following me around!"
"Harry-"
"What?" Harry was screaming now, and he wasn't sure if it was anger or frustration or grief fuelling him anymore. "You want to kill me? Is that it?"
"Will you just shut up and listen to me for a second?!" Draco shook his head in denial, frowning. "I don't want to kill you, Harry! I-"
"Love me, right. That's a laugh." Harry spat. Without thought, he stepped out of the tiny alcove, away from safety. "Go ahead. Kill me. Merlin knows it'll be more merciful than having to watch a demon wearing my lover's body pretending to care."
Before Harry could blink, he was pushed up roughly against the wall, feet dangling several centimetres in the air, staring into the fathomless gaze of the demon. Draco's teeth were long and sharp, unneeded breath wheezing out from between them and chilling Harry's face. "Shut up, Harry," the vampire hissed, and Harry found himself suddenly, inexplicably terrified.
He did the only thing he could think of. He raised his hand to Draco's face, cupping one cold cheek in his trembling palm.
Silvery eyes fluttered shut and when they opened, they were grey again, and Draco let Harry drop, though his grip on Harry's robes didn't loosen.
When Draco spoke, his voice was forcibly calm, controlled. "Let me take you somewhere warm," he said softly. "Get you something warm to drink, and an explanation."
Harry closed his own eyes. It sounded so good - being warm, being dry. Being with Draco. It also happened to be fucked up beyond the telling of it, because Draco was most certainly dead.
"Come with me, Harry," Draco whispered, turning his face into Harry's palm and whispering against it and Harry sighed.
"All right."
~*~
Harry stared into his cup of steaming, sweetened hot chocolate, cherishing the warmth it emanated. He heard rather than saw Draco take a sip from his own drink - it smelled faintly metallic and was served to Draco without being ordered, so Harry didn't want to know what it was - before he continued his story.
"I ran into the vampire who turned me in the first Muggle pub I set foot in," Draco smirked in remembrance. "This tall, dark-haired man walks up to me like we're old friends, pats me on the back before he realises I'm a bit young to be my father. He sits down without being invited and orders a pint of Guinness, and tells me his name is Marius, and that he's an old family friend."
The name seemed familiar and Harry frowned, making Draco smile.
"You'd think that in Romania I'd be more careful about talking with family friends," Draco said self-deprecatingly. "But I wasn't. Otherwise I'd have noticed he had the classical Black features, not to mention my mother's eyes."
"He was family," Harry said softly, and Draco nodded.
"My great-grandfather's brother, to be precise," he clarified, "which explains why I never even heard of the castle as a child, even though my mother owned it."
"Bet he wasn't too keen on you planning to sell the place," Harry surmised.
"Not really, no," Draco said dryly, fingers dancing around the rim of his mug. "I left the pub with him, actually, so I got to be turned in a musty alley smelling of garbage and urine. Glamorous, isn't it? It was three days before I woke up and realised what I was."
"I bet you hated it," Harry said, feeling the sympathy creep in despite himself. Pure-bred, pureblood-raised Draco turned into a vampire - it must have been awful.
"Are you kidding? It was brilliant!" Draco said, eyes glittering. "I saw things more clearly, could hear and smell every single person not only in the castle, but in the village below. And with enhanced senses, everything I felt became stronger, became more. There's a fire inside when you're turned, Harry - like hunger that will never be sated, and it feels perfect. Safe, and strong, and perfect."
Harry took a sip from his hot chocolate and grimaced; too sweet. "I don't understand."
"Close your eyes, Harry," Draco purred, and Harry did as he was told. "Think back on every single whim you've ever had - everything you've ever wanted, no matter how briefly - from a Christmas toy to smothering someone in their sleep. All the things you always wanted and couldn't have. Imagine what it would feel like to suddenly have the power to just - take it. All of it, without stopping."
"Intoxicating," Harry whispered, and a sound that oddly resembled a cat's satisfied purr emanated from Draco. "Freeing. Terrifying, though."
"Imagine me in the middle of it all - horny as fuck and high as a kite and terrified but loving it at the same time," Draco purred, and Harry shuddered. The very thought was tempting. "All I could think about was you, Harry - how much I wanted to share it all with you. That's when he introduced me to her. Kamelia."
What Draco wanted hit Harry like a ton of bricks, and he balked. "No. Bugger off, Malfoy! You're not turning me, as well!"
"Kamelia," Draco said firmly, soothingly, and some part of Harry must have listened, because he found himself calming down. "Tiny lady, about fifty years old. She was so gentle, so nice to me. He let me drink from her, let her calm me down before he explained what she was to him."
"She's his Consort, you see." Draco's hand crept across the table. Harry twitched when it settled on his wrist, but didn't feel the urge to run, not even when Draco thumbed his pulse point.
"Consort?" Harry repeated weakly, oddly mesmerised.
"His lover, his inspiration - his peace," Draco said, his eyes never leaving Harry's. "She's the one who keeps him in control. Who helps him cling to his humanity and remain the man he was before he was killed. She was none too pleased with him for turning me, and let me tell you, he got a kicked puppy look every time she scowled at him, vampire or no vampire."
Harry smiled despite himself, but Draco didn't. His expression was grim and his grip tightened on Harry's wrist.
"This is what I want from you," Draco whispered, searching Harry's face for something Harry couldn't name. "I love you, and I need you to keep me grounded. I spent four months there, trying to learn, but I can't do this without you. I need you to be my conscience, Harry."
Harry's heart was doing strange flip-flops in his chest. "I'm-"
"You're better than me at distinguishing right from wrong, always were," said Draco firmly. "I can't afford to lose my temper and kill someone - I'll lose you forever if I do."
Harry felt all the blood drain from his face. Draco didn't mind hurting people he didn't care about - come to think of it, he never had. The only reason Draco was making this attempt to reign in his new nature was because he wanted to keep Harry. If Harry bound himself to this, and he would be the only thing standing between Draco and the people he loved - he would never be able to walk away.
"I'm asking a lot, I know," Draco whispered, and Harry shivered with an odd sense of déjà vu. "I'm asking you to trust me with the lives of everyone you care about. I love you, though, and I'm willing to try."
"You said it to me, once," Harry echoed, his tone matching Draco's. "Those exact same words."
"You trusted me, and I kept my word." Draco's fingers squeezed Harry's wrist. "Trust me again?"
Harry gripped Draco's wrist and pulled him across the table. The kiss wasn't violent, or demanding; it didn't echo with the fear and frustration and lust Harry was certain Draco was feeling as well. Instead it was tentative, almost hesitant, and somehow full of promise.
Draco nipped at Harry's lip and he gasped when the vampire sucked it in. Tingles of sensation bubbled up in Harry's stomach and spread out everywhere, from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. He thrust his tongue into Draco's mouth, slicing it purposefully on a protruding fang, and moaned when Draco sucked it in greedily.
When their lips parted, Harry smiled, sliding his ankle against Draco's under the table even as Draco raised Harry's wrist to his mouth. "All right."