Happy Birthday, june_glasschild !!
Happy Birthday, june_glasschild !!
This time it's the real deal!! I hope you have a very happy day today, with all your friend and family!
May this me the start of a great year where all your dreams come true!!
Locky The Bunny
Scholomance
Author: Yami no Tsubasa
Pairing: Krumggory
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine, and the pieces of story and information lifted from the various books are, OBVIOUSLY not mine, but belong to J.K.Rowling, Scholastic Books, Warner Bros, and whomever else own them. They are not mine. The topics about „Scholomance” and the legend, which I have liberally adapted to fit the story, are not my invention, and I have no idea if they belong to anyone. Rumania, I believe. I’m making no money out of this, so you better don’t sue me, or I will counter sue you on charges of diffamation, and whatever else my lawyers can come up with.
Warning: gay sex (duh), vampirism. OOC. Nationality change too. Profuse presence of muggle elements. Attempt at PWP... basically. Look, it was supposed to be a multi-paired, long story, which was developping nicely in my head, BUT then I could not bring myself to write it entirely. It would have taken me also forever and I didn't have forever. (I'm using "forerver" in last year's gift-fic). Plot-wise is a HUGE cliffhanger as many things are not explained or are half-explained. I know that, but in order to FIT IT in the entry, I had to chop and reduce from everywhere. Look at it this way: if the story pleases you, I could extend the story in further gifts. ^_^ Now, conversations in italics mean they are being told in Bulgarian.
Summary: read the story! ^_^ Nine years have passed since the triwizard tournament. Many things have changed, but some remain just the same.
---«(_.•˙°˙•._)»---
In twenty six years I have never felt like this, so alive. It makes me want to smirk and laugh at the irony of it, but I don’t wish to wake him up. He’s so peaceful as he sleeps next to me, his arms around my torso, his head on my chest, lulled only by my breathing because I no longer have a heartbeat to drum into his ear. The sound of his breathing, the little clipped up noise as he exhales makes me the happiest man on the world. I didn’t know, but he has a breathing problem. It’s not serious, he claims lifting his hands defensively as if it were a flaw for which he should be severely punished. Yes, it’s not serious, but it’s a threat on his life. I slowly card my fingers through his dark hair from the nape up and smile as he frowns, moans like a child who don’t want to be disturbed but it’s too sleeping to say so, and then he rubs his face into my chest, looking for a protected position, only to end up like he was, but with his arm just a little bit higher. I try to pinpoint the moment, the day I have become so “involved”, so honestly caring, so concerned by someone else, but I can’t. Not in life, when I dragged my days with a permanent smile doing what was expected of me, living without living. Not after my death, when I was stripped of my former self and only a never experienced selfishness, defensiveness and bitterness took over me. I carry on a few regrets I should have left behind, but with his head pillowed on my chest, I can’t break the chains of my life.
I remember this song, I heard once in a Paris, at a café perhaps, or somewhere else where I sat down to work a little away from anything related to my job. My head was filled with many things, many thoughts, and perhaps it wasn’t my job from which I was escaping, my academic and professional responsibilities, but my memories and me myself. The song found me, and it sneaked into my head to stay. I didn’t knew the whole lyrics and though I tried the best I could, I couldn’t find nor the song’s title, not the singer. The soft voice of the female escaped my seeking capabilities, leaving only the words that told me about myself in the deepest, most painful of ways.
Arrête la Terre
Arrêter ou je vais sauter
Car ce qu'on manége m'étourdi
J'ai perdu une aile
Et j'arrive plus à m'envoler
J'ai perdu la moitié de moi
Là bas dans la nuit
Seul ici j'ai froid
Si froid sans toi
Aù plus profond de mon corps
Seul dans cette chambre où tout me semble faux
Ce soir je suis tomber de haut!!
I found myself singing the words underneath my breath as a prayer to whatever supreme power that would hear me and deliver me from my continued, brutalized existence.
We are in his hometown, Sofia, in my hotel room at the Sheraton Sofia Hotel Balkan. A muggle hotel. I smile for myself silently. „Muggle”. It’s a word I haven’t used in a while now. Our clothes lie all over the floor mixed and in complete disarray. I don’t care if they get dirty or wrinkled. I’m not metrosexual and I have never really embraced any of the archetypical features of „queer behavior”. Honestly, fashion leaves me cold. I wear whatever feels good, comfortable, giving in to only a few temptations, like my Diesel jeans and my Police sunglasses. My laptop is on the table near the window under customized folders of the „General Relativity and Hypergeometrical Analysis in Applied to the Modern Issues of the 21st Century” Seminar held at the Faculty of Mathematics of the Sveti Kliment Ghriski University. Papers and notes roll over, brochures, and printed invitations for all kinds of bars and parties at the wild Sofia at night. The guide of my own presentation on the hypergeometrical analysis is also scattered around, earmarked and written all over in my sketchy handwriting. God knows where my wallet is, maybe in my trousers, and where my keys are, but I don’t have to look to know that my iPhone is on the nightstand at hand reach. I look out the window and see the top floors of other buildings, as well as the pointy, red roof of one of the Sveta Nedelya Cathedral’s towers that give most of the charm to this hotel. I was not raised Christian, less a Catholic, but I have found a resting comfort in the images of the church. I’m an outcast to every sign of it, and should be rejected and burned, exorcised from the vicinity of the building, and yet I lay here, close and feeling secure.
The seminar is over and tomorrow I’m on the first plane back to Bucharest and then the first available train to Kolozsvár. From there I have an important trip to do to Sibiu, but I have never been able to take myself directly there. However, maybe this time I will rush there before taking a moment for soul fortifying at the small town I have chosen for home in Romania. I’m not sure it has sunk to him that I won’t be here tomorrow, that when I kiss him it will be a good-bye kiss. I feel like crying. I don’t want to lose him, not after I have found him, and though we could keep up the contact, we all know what happens with people when borders are put in between. He has a job here, and honestly, I don’t stay in Kolozsvár long enough. I move from seminar to seminar, rooting long only when I get to teach at a university, but otherwise bouncing from Madrid to Pjotrosbourg like a crazy ping-pong ball. I’m a mathematician. I’m a freelancing agent. My home is in Budapest now… and I still owe myself to someone else. It’s thanks to him that I have gotten an existence. It is for him that I can be here, with him in my arms, dozing after the best sex ever. I sight as I remember his large hazel eyes profusely freckled with gold chips. Like Polish amber looking at you with live, organic, beautiful morsels of life captured forever. His fine face is beautiful like I have hardly seen a match in these past years. Suggestive lips that the decent and gathered would call “seductive” and “voluptuous”, and which would be called by today’s outspoken and dirty world as “naughty” in the best place and “made-for-blowjobs” in the most likely scenario. “Fuckable”. Another world for that mouth. Tall, firm, formed, with broad shoulders and narrow hips and waist, taut belly and rock-hard thighs, long legs and swan-like long neck. He wears his hair long, mostly loose with his rich, perfect curls and waves cascading down to tease past the middle of his back. Sometimes, when he’s reading, he gathers it with a thin leather strip or a black ribbon. It happens that he doesn’t gather the whole mass of hair and a loose bang dances before his face. I’m used to that soft hair falling on my face, sliding up and down my body as he licks me, kisses me all over and makes me moan, even in spite of myself.
Yes, in spite of myself.
I died, but I never chose to be brought back. I did not plead for more days to spend among the living, though as I lay now here, in bed, with him, I’m glad that my Master, Massimo Rossi, de Devil of Scholomance had taken my corps from the earth, from my wood and satin bed, and infused me with the forbidden elixir of borrowed life and then turned me to his kind: a vampire. I was given the task of learning, broaden my curiosity and become a scholar. For it, as well as for the privilege of existing, I paid with my blood and my body. Only this was made clear with my Master. Only his request of blood of use of my body was ever outspoken. My education… well, that was my headache.
It was the first time that my academic performance was poor, and not because I didn’t try hard enough, but because I tried hard and wasn’t succeeding and giving him what he wanted: a token of my unadulterated curiosity, a sample of my capability of original thinking. I memorized and read all I could, without his guidance, with his piercing, freckled amber eyes disapproving me as I asked him for a direction to go.
“Your obedience is your doom. It has crippled you mentally.” He said.
I found it difficult to find out if I had to disobey or not, but if I ever tried to disobey his command to offer my blood or give him my body, I would find myself bound to his bed or his table, naked and teased until I screamed desperately to be drank or taken, and not seldom, both. My Master soon found out that, though pride was not a feature of mine, humiliation, exposure was a sure way to break me into obedience. It took me months to understand, and then I finally started felling into the path he wanted for me. I never succeeded in pleasing him academically. I learned and I could follow a thought line, but I couldn’t create something new, as he expected me to do. However, in the measure I displeased him with my attempts to become a scholar, I pleased him with my flesh. He would then just look at me and I would know what he wanted. I would walk to him, fall on my knees and give him a blow job or shed my clothes, climb his bed on al fours and rest my face on the pillow. Not once I loved him or wanted him, but it wasn’t like I didn’t learn you enjoy his treatment. He was good.
Soon he would try more and more games and things, dressing me as a Chinese Princess, a Japanese Shogun, a Hindu servant girl, an Arabesque belly dancer or an Arab youngster. I was for him a Russian peasant, a Medieval Knight, a monk, a priest, and Turkish slave, a Janissary. Anything and everything that would turn him on. He incited me to seduce him, and I did as part of this “job”, this eternal debt I had towards him. I learned I was irresistible when I threw myself spread on a couch, my legs perched on each arm, my arms over my head, holding into the back of the seat and my ass in the edge. He would rip my clothes off and kiss me. If I laughed lustful, he got more turned on and that would lead only to endless hours of the best sex I ever had. Seducing him was the only control I could have in a world where my mind, which have never been my strongest feature, was an embarrassing disappointment. In a place where I was on the bottom of everything, good only as a whore, I found out that seduction gave me the only grasp of control, so I clutched into him. When I chose the mathematics as my field, my Master stared at me displeased:
“Just that? You are so limited within yourself.”
But when I gave him a coy smile, if I looked at him sideway tilting my head and giving him a look of stretched neck, if I spread my legs just the right way, he was butter in my hands. I shook my hips for him dressed in the soft, colorful silks he had chosen for me. I talked dirty to him in the very Turkish he had taught me. Lowered my voice to a husky whisper and danced for him, played the role of the captive Turkish hostage boy, the Janissary that would kill for his master, his new, adopted family. He loved my grey eyes outlined thick with smoky coal, the way my gaze deepened and earned strength from the makeshift, ancient make up. He sat comfortably on a multitude of brocade and damask cushions, dressed in the fashion of the richest, most powerful Sultans, smiling pleased at me as I moved at the rhythm of the music he had selected for me. When he extended his hand towards me, I fell on my knees, and crawled up to him. He held me in his arms and kissed me, peeling back the tight yellow vest he had put on me, the orange shirt and sneaking his hands under the red sash tied tight around my waist into my flowing green silk trousers. In my mind, I looked like some kind of silk rainbow, but he loved the combination, and I had to admit that it had a strange cohesion to it. If I was his Jannisary, my clothes would never come off, even as he took my body and drank my blood. I would not attempt taking them off, moaning and gasping, begging only in Turkish like a native.
“Do you love me?” he asked me once after one of these seducing games turned into three hours of heated sex.
I wasn’t the sweet boy I had been, when I was alive, when I was Cedric Diggory. With smoky eyes, coal smeared with sweat and kisses all over my face, his words fell empty on me. It was no longer part of my role to answer those questions and I felt nothing for him to protect him or make it easier on him.
“No.”
He smiled at my sincerity, and caressed my head as we stayed in bed recovering our breath.
“For a moment I thought…”
“I do what’s requested from me.” I cut into his word dryly. “Don’t get ideas.”
Silence.
“Have you ever loved anyone?”
“Why is that important now?”
“Have you?”
“No.”
I found out he had, but then, I didn’t knew that maybe I had. It was me in my Master’s arms, in his bed, and sex was a chore, not like now. How many things have happened since then and how many things have I learned from him. He taught me the difference between the vampires everybody knew and the kind I was to become part of when my education was finished, when he made me one. He taught me that I was dead, that I should leave everything behind me, that once dead, I was no longer whom I used to be. He taught me to redo myself, that though I was suspended like a living corpse while I was not turned and I was what he made of me, his apprentice, his food and his whore, once turned it was up to me to decide what new man I would be. We could age at will, our hair and nails could grow and we had no need to bleed people white to satisfy our hunger. I could change my colors at will. My skin could go from albino pale to the darkest shade of black, my hair could go from any tone from white to jet black, and so my eyes could take any color. He taught me, insisted upon it, actually, that I should not take a thing from my previous life, almost like someone under a witness protection program. Through the eternal existence that I would lead now, I had to learn to let things go, never attach to them. In my obedience, I could do that, though I have always feared there would be one thing I could never let go: my twin brother Fred. His death at our age seven had scarred me deeply, turned me into a deformed person in the inside no one ever got to witness. I remember the painful envy with which I watched the Weasley twins, one of them a Fred, just like my Fred. I smiled at them and was polite as I was expected to be, nice and a good mate, but my heart and mind spent countless hours inventing deaths for George and ways to make Fred my Fred. It’s Ironic how it was me the one who died. Then, I died but I didn’t so I couldn’t finally join my Fred, and now I would never be able to. Fred was the one thing I was afraid I would never be able to let go. No, Scratch that. I was sure I would never be able to let him go.
I stumbled upon the true identity of my Master one day in the library. His name, his description, his very personal history, his portrait where in history books. My eyebrows arched up as page after page of the chronicles of Chalcondyles unveiled yet another chapter of my Master’s troubled childhood, his relationship with his two older brothers and then his violent love life. As I read about him, about the way he was made give himself to the Sultan’s son, I started to understand why he hated it when I behaved like a sex slave. He did not want to be remembered of it. I studied him, watched him, now that I knew who he was, without telling him, spying him to find out if he had carried something with him, so I could carry on with Fred. He noticed my watching, noticed me practicing on people from the TV, from the internet, from books profiling them.
“You are supposed to become a scholar, not a detective, Apprentice.”
I said nothing, had noting to tell him, but instead I walked to him, smiled, kissed his lips and pulled him on top of him. Sex was the best way to let him know I wanted him to lay off some topic… specially my inadequate academic capacities. He undressed me, I undressed him, he kissed me and I kissed him in return. I closed my eyes and turned my head to the side, offering him my neck for a snack. He drank me, turning then his bite into kisses he trailed down my neck to my chest and belly, pulling my remaining clothes out of the way until he reached my pubes. With my eyes closed, I arched up into his mouth, offered up my hardening self and imagined someone else. He kissed me, licked me, sucked me and then turned me around, rimmed me and when I was moaning, slick with his saliva and relaxed, pulsing against his tongue, he climbed up, licking my back until his mouth attached again to my neck and his cock lodged into my ass. It felt good, I can’t deny that, just as I couldn’t mask the satisfied moan escaping my throat. He laughed low and pushed deeper into me.
“You like that, don’t you?”
My chest was tight with heat and lust run through my veins. My eyes opened, but I did not look at him. I watched the dark stones of the wall and then arched up against him, working my hips and ass making him go deeper inside me. I would not talk to him as he satisfied himself on me, as I was caught and enjoyed myself, as I pushed against him, as I parted my legs for him, as I rose, as we rolled over and I straddled his hip and rode him like a cowboy.
It’s been a few years since that, since I spent everyday with him, since he had access to my blood and body every single day. I had been turned into a vampire since those days, and I took that chance to prove what I have learned about him. It was my little victory to realize I was right. He used to be a Romanian prince, a voivode as they called them, Radu the Handsome. His pride was the one thing, along with his traumatic memories, he couldn’t let behind. So I was entitled to keep one thing. I rubbed salt into his would by choosing to be Hungarian as he hated them the way Jews and anti-Semites hated each other. He did not like the fact that I chose Budapest to establish myself, far from him, or that I have learned Hungarian behind his back. My new last name, Hunyadi, was a personal affront to him and his family as it was the family name of a Hungarian viceroy who had tight links with his family and his family’s fate. He schooled his features, but couldn’t help frowning as he added:
“So, would your name be John now?”
I smirked and said:
“No.”
But the name that fell from my lips lashed into me. I kept myself together before him, covered up my own surprise and my own hurt with a smirk, in which I basked in his hurt, but as soon as I found myself alone, I searched my reflection in the mirror and I touched my lips, my eyes watering and spilling tears as I tried to understand why. Why that name? What had I kept from myself all these years?
For two years I traveled Europe avoiding the UK, choosing the muggle life, and so I found myself becoming a freelancer like many others, making friends here and there, all of them had no idea about the Wizarding world, and who would believe only on the magic of love and laughing at all the other kinds of magic thinking them to be mambo-yambo. No one I knew could ever see me, and it hurt to think that my original birth land was out of limits for me until all my family, friends and acquaintances died. They might have lost me, but I had lost all of them. I made a name for myself in a friendly place that embraced me without knowing me and considered me just fine to do my part. I have no idea what deranged thought made me take that offer at Bulgaria, but I did. Granted, when the offer came, I thought of Sofia only as “not UK”, and I didn’t thought any further, but then, as suddenly Sofia set in my mind as “the capital of Bulgaria” I realized all the reasons why I should mail back and decline the offer. I still had time to do so, but I never sent the rejecting mail. Perhaps I wanted to prove myself. I felt like playing with fire. However, unexpected things happened. As I made my way to the wizard part of Sofia, I walked into the less expected of wizards.
I saw his tall, elegant, lean frame in expensive robes and his platinum blond hair gathered at the nape of his neck with a black ribbon as he left the huge library of the biggest wizard university of Sofia. He did not see me, but something stroke me about him. So, for the next few days I followed him everyday, studying him. I found out that he possessed the natural, voracious curiosity I lacked. He studied by himself, sitting in the floor of the aisle, surrounded by books with his long legs crossed Indian style. I was amazed I have never seen this side of him. I could picture him like this at Hogwarts, sneaking into the library and devouring the words, the knowledge that spread open for him and his mind. Hours went by and he stayed there, alone with his books. In that moment I decided that, though no one who had know me in life should see me now, I would come to him and offer him my place at my Master’s side. As I watched him satisfying his hunger for knowledge I understood what Massimo Rossi, Radu the Handsome wanted from me. I still followed him next day, attempting to find a way to approach him. Why did I do that that night? Looked up for him and found him in a hotel room riding the cock of a man. Would I have a beating heart then, it would have skipped a heartbeat even before I could see him. But when he turned his face, even with the eyes closed and then looking up at the handsome blond bouncing on his dick with his dark eyes filled with lust, I had to rip myself from the window and fly away.
I first wanted to forget what I have seen, forget I have seen him, but then, my mind betrayed me and fantasized with the idea of taking the blond away, perhaps taking up on the chance of him taking my place at Scholomance and then I could keep the brunet. I shook my head hard, willing my thoughts away. I could not repeat my dark thoughts, I could not make him another Fred, and make the blond another George. The next night I found him again in the library, and this time I approached him. As he saw me, I stood frozen. As I saw him I was in awe. Despise having spied him for days, I have never came in direct view of his amazing grey eyes. I had seen them before. That shade, that very shade was like the eyes of Fred. My mind raced wild and I thought about keeping him at my side. It was like looking into Fred’s eyes. Why have I not noticed him sooner? Why it never strike me like that when we were at Hogwarts? He spoke first.
“My, my, weren’t you death, Diggory?”
I smiled at him.
“It’s good to see you too, Malfoy. I see you have grown up. Growing your hair to be more like your father?”
He smiled looking away.
“So, how did you pull that trick? Fake corpse? Had to run away from Chang?”
I walked closer and, taking his hand, I placed his palm flat on my chest and let him feel the lack of life in it.
“What has ever made you think I’m alive?”
His eyes widened and his hand tensed up, for a moment pulling it away from me.
“I have a proposal for you.” I whispered into his ear.
He remained quiet, fiercely schooled into a cool façade.
“You are a vampire.” He stated quietly.
“Meet me tomorrow… at lunch?”
He turned his face to me, looking me with great surprise. I smiled at him and leaned over the little gap between us kissing gently his lips. He didn’t pull away. I smiled again and I was gone. Alone, I touched my lips, closed my eyes and made an effort to firmly believe I have still found a trace of the brunet’s taste. I had no idea then what that lunch would bring to my life.
I was there and surprised him by walking at him on the broad daylight, taking off my Police sunglasses to let him see that the Sun had not more effect on me than what it had on him.
“What are you?” He asked me as we took place at the table. I explained him and I had him soon hooked. I presented him with my proposal, on which his scholar mind soon caught up. We finished with a tumbler of brandy on the terrace, smoothing details, and giving him my promise to take his requests back to Rossi. Well, I would have to explain Rossi first, but I was sure he would agree once he saw the picture I would give him about the devastatingly handsome Draco Malfoy. We were chatting calmly when steps came closer and I heard his hoarse voice.
“Is this the rreason? Him?”
Draco turned first at him, and then did I. He was angry, but as he saw me his face opened in surprise and he looked far younger than the twenty-six we were. His face was the face of a child. He had changed in the past nine years, but so had I. I had my hair chin length, in a style I had tried to copy from the French actor Olivier Martinez, and wore muggle clothes. He had let his close cropped hair grow into a style I recognized as mine when we were in Hogwarts. He was slimmer and wore open, plain grey robes over coal trousers and an olive colored jumper. Draco smiled pointing at him with his tumbler.
“He looks more like your reason, darling.”
I felt awkward looking at the both of them. He fixed me with his deep, dark gaze that leaked anger. I felt at loss, just like I used to with my Master. I tried smiling at him.
“It’s been a while.”
He looked at me.
“It has.” He said dryly. I thought that would be it, but then he added with deep sarcasm. “I’ve been surrviving, but vhat have you been doing? Besides being dead, of kourrse.”
I was surprised. He turned on his heels and was gone. I did not understand until Draco explained me. Viktor had been a wreck since that year. He left his career as Seeker and had become a shadow of the man he used to be. Now, as a historian for the University of Sofia, he followed other kinds of destructive behavior, such as drinking, smoking or engaging too much in a futureless relationship such as the one Draco offered him. For the blond, the former star was just a diversion, something to spend his free time while he was in Bulgaria, but nothing more. Now that he was going to marry and would work on breeding an heir, he had told the brunet he wouldn’t see him again for a long while. He didn’t really expect him to take it so bad.
So Viktor was free.
Through my new liaison to Draco, I did my best to talk to Viktor, as we met often now. He received me always with anger, with resentment. He didn’t even try being polite to me, but after a time he stopped his harsh remark and angered words, and clammed up himself. I sat near him, followed a pieced up chit-chat, swirling whisky in the bottom of a glass. Suddenly he exploded.
“Vhy do you play vith that as if you kould drrink it!!?” he shouted at me.
I looked at him not understanding, and then, looking at the whisky, I downed it. He only got madder.
“Like you kan feel that!”
He slapped the glass off my hand sending it to the floor, where it broke into a star tray of glass shards.
“You arre dead!!! You vampirr!!”
“I’m different than the average vampire, and you know that.”
He sneered.
“Like you have everr been that intelligent.”
“I never said I was.”
He walked around like a caged lion.
“Vhat do you vant frrom me?” he turned at me suddenly. I had no answer for that, but before I even tried one, he was shouting again. “You know vhat it vas forr me, huh? I vas devastated vhen you died! The vorld vas overr forr me and I kouldn’t even figurre out vhy!!! I trried to hide my pain but it vas eating avay my sanity! I sneaked at night to the morrtuarry hall vhere yourr korrpse vas kept! I klimbed on the table! I laid therre vith yourr korrpse and I KRRIED on yourr shoulderr!!!! And you did nothing! I vent nine yearrs obsessing about you and yourr death, drreaming vith having done something differrent and have spent morre time vith you, somehow, and I vas TORRTURRED because no amount of magik would let me!!! And I kan’t live forreverr in a time turnerr, even if I attempted to get my hands on one of those!”
His eyes were puffy now, and heavy with tears. I listened gobsmacked.
“You let me live nine yearrs thinking you verre gone and lost forr me!! And now you vant to prretend everrything is good and nice? FUKK YOU!!!”
This got me going.
“Because I had such a great existence these nine years, right??” I rose to my feet facing him. “I did not ask to be killed! I did not ask to be brought back! I was USED, you understand that? I had a Master to whom I had to whore myself out! I was forced to leave everything behind me! I was made cut my ties with whom I was! You call me Diggory still but I am no longer Cedric Diggory! I can’t even use that name any more! You say you lost me, but I’ve lost EVERYTHING!! So don’t dare blaming me for things I didn’t know of and things that were not under my control!”
He stepped closer to me and shouted in my face.
“Then go! Leave! You vant Malfoy! Have him! Leave me alone! Vhy don’t you just STOP KOMING TO SEE ME!!?”
Taking advantage of my heightened capabilities, I grabbed his face and kissed him hard before I could actually realize what was I doing. At first he did nothing, but then answered kissing me back furiously. It was more battle and anger than anything else. When my hunger rose, I broke the kiss violently. A thread of saliva stretched between out mouths and then broke in the air. He saw my skin becoming paler and my eyes chill and become ice blue.
“I have to catch a bite.” I said with a sneer pulling away.
He let me walk away a few steps before speaking again.
“Am I not good enough forr yourr fangs?”
I was mad and confused. I turned at him flashing my vampire eyes and my long, pointy fangs at him.
“Not in that mood. Good night.”
My catch of that night was meaningless. I don’t even remember if it was man or woman, but as I drank the blood and sunk my dick in him or her, I couldn’t stop picturing Viktor. After that, it took me a few days to see him again. I had agreed at one point to take part in yet another seminar, though my feelings about staying in the city were mixed. Draco was no longer there, so I had no valid excuse to stay. I should have been flying back to Sibiu, talking to Rossi. Not a week had been gone when we walked into each other at a coffee shop.
“I’m sorry for the other night.”
He shook his head.
“No… I vas… out of place. I’m sorry forr vhat I said.”
We smiled at each other, and for the first time we were able to feel good in each other’s company. In a few days I made up for the years we have missed, for the things we missed when I was alive. We laughed and went to places together. Then he offered me his blood for me too feed, and I agreed. Touching his skin with my lips was an experience that almost made my heart come to life again. When I finished, I found him blushing, heaving a little. I smiled to myself thankful that I didn’t need that much blood that would have kept him from blushing. I smiled and he did the same.
“That vas something.” He joked.
I laughed a little and then, touched his lips with my thumb.
“I’m sorry… I never stopped to think… I never meant to offend you when I kissed you.”
The blush was alive on his cheeks.
“You didn’t offend me…” he whispered against my thumb.
I smiled gratefully. That kiss was a topic we have both been avoiding, but of which I needed to know more. I wanted deeply to repeat it but this time without the anger, and the fighting. I needed to find out his feelings about it, so fishing was my only way to gather information about it.
“Vhat… you meant?”
My smile grew wider and I caressed his lips with my thumb leaning then to peck them.
“Oh, I just wanted to shut you up. You were shouting too much.”
He smiled and then laughed a little, close to me. He pecked me on the lips and then rested is forehead to mine.
“It vorrked, rright?”
My smile was getting smeared all over my face with lust. I meant to peck him, but my lips stuck to his longer than a peck should.
“Like a charm…” I whispered.
His arms came around me and he kissed me again.
“And… vhat you mean now?”
I held him to me hard, and kissed his lips, tasted them, sucked them, playing them until he melted and the question was nearly gone from his mind.
“I’m just happy to be with you… right now.”
He smiled amused and placed a tiny, butterfly kiss on my upper lip.
“That’s a good rreason forr a kiss.”
I was horny, I wanted him in bed, the two of us fucking until the flesh fell off our bones, but I contented myself with softly kissing him on the lips before stepping back.
“Whenever you want a kiss, don’t hesitate calling me.”
He looked away with an amused lopsided smile and then looked back at me nodding.
“I vill keep that in mind.”
I smiled and leaned closer.
“And when you feel ready to get over Draco Malfoy, please keep me in mind.”
He smiled and nodded.
“I vill.”
“Thanks for the dinner. It was great.”
I kissed his cheek and left. We saw each other often, spending long hours together, seeking the refuge of his department or at my hotel room, where we talked and sometimes kissed too. We held each other suffering each time I had to go and the embrace had to end. He talked me into sleeping over, so we didn’t have to break our embrace. We kissed in bed, caressed each other and fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Then came the hypergeometry seminar and as this was coming to an end, I couldn’t find another excuse to stay. I had to go back to Sibiu, and then check back to Budapest for an offer of a couple of classes to teach I received today by e-mail. This was my last night in Sofia, and I had no idea what would happen with Viktor, though I didn’t want to end anything with him. At his side I was happy, and I realized I had never been happy before.
“Are you ready to move on?”
We were on my bed, watching the TV, a muggle form of entertainment that had him caught up in no time. He looked up at me funny with a funny smile as his hands linked under his head.
“Move on? I don’t underrstand.”
An old chapter of NCIS was on and that seemed to interest him more than the current topic.
“Draco Malfoy.” I explained.
“Oh.” He said with a smile following still the criminal investigation. “It vas neverr rreally about him.”
My eyebrows arched. He watched the episode for a moment more before turning to me. My expression seemed to amaze him. The series finally lost its grip on him as he turned to his side, facing me. His hand reached out to my face caressing my eyebrows and circling under my eyes.
“His eyes. It vas… yourr eyes. I vanted you. He vas… the klosest thing to you forr me… then.”
I pulled him to me and kissed him hard. He wrapped himself around me and let me kiss him. This time around I couldn’t stop myself, and as I continued kissing him, I undid his shirt pulling it off his shoulders. He kept kissing me, but as my hands went for his pants, he stopped pulling me away from him.
“Vhat arre you doing?”
“What does it look like?” I smirked.
He shook his head and tried again.
“No. Vhat do you vant? Vhat arre you looking forr? Just seks? And adventurre in Sofia?”
I had told him I was leaving the next day. He knew that. How could I tell him I wanted him forever? How would I tell him I wanted to keep him in my life? On which basis? Making him move with me, when the logical thing would have been for me to stay, but I couldn’t not only because of my hectic job, but because I still owed myself to Rossi?
“I don’t vant anotherr Malfoy-like rrelationship. Not vith you.”
“It won’t be like that…”
“Then… vhat it vould be like?”
I kissed him hard, rubbed up to him until this time the question erased entirely from his mind. I didn’t want to answer that question and I would have hated to lie to him. I licked his mouth, touched him, sneaked my hand into his pants, jerked him until he was as horny as I was, as willing to go on with it, then I pulled his pants off and he just lifted his hips from the bed to make my job easier. Soon we were naked, rolling over each other, rubbing up and kissing desperately. I pulled away for a second to take him in. He was leaner, his body full of flowing, smooth lines. Not one marked out muscle as one would expect from an athlete, but then again, he was no longer one. His tummy was flat and the skin taut like the stretched skin on a drum. His thighs where slimmer now than what I remembered seeing at the Second Task, him in those short trunks, but they were still rock firm. I touched them softly, trailing my fingers up to the loin lines and leaning to kiss his navel.
“I’m not… vhat I vas, rright?”
I pulled up and kissed his mouth. I could see he was ashamed for his body, which was really gorgeous, but he thought he ought to look always like the Quidditch Star. I looked at him smiling and traced my index finger down the side of his face.
“You are older… and have my old haircut.” I flicked his bangs with my fingers.
He laughed and pulled mine playfully.
“You know vhat I mean.” He added a bit more seriously. I nodded and pecked him.
“You don’t have the body you used to have when you played.”
He nodded.
“I’m not alive… I don’t have the body I used to have either.” I added softly.
He looked away. I kissed his ear and then rubbed my nose into the side of his face.
“These are things we don’t talk about.”
He remained looking at the side, still, and I understood that sadness had taken away his desire. I sighed. I couldn’t believe this was happening.
“I don’t want the Quidditch player, shit, I don’t even follow Quidditch anymore.”
He turned to look at me.
“Vhat do you vant then?”
I had no idea what to say. I had it in my mind, in the tip of my tongue, but I feared the consequences, my own capacity to keep up my side of the deal. Rossi came over and over to my mind like the wall into which I pounded over and over when I tried to reach him.
“What do you have to offer?”
He stared into my eyes, and I saw, almost heard the answer in form in his mind, ready to fall from his lips: ‘Whatever you want’. I feared that answer as much as I wanted it. I had no idea what to tell him. Instead, he smirked suddenly and moved under me. He was adjusting, so I moved off him and watched him. Like a true professional model, he reached for the headboard holding his joined hands into it, tilted his head, spread his legs and looked at me warm and seductive. Stretched and offering, I understood then why Massimo fell each time I struck that pose in a chair. I needed no invitation as I grabbed his hip pulling him to my crotch. Looming over him, my eyes flashed ice blue for a second as the predator took over me. I attacked his mouth and he fought me back, but not like in that first angry kiss. It was a game of dominance. Secured his hands above his head with one of mine, and with the other I held him in place, fucking his mouth with my tongue while my hips rolled in the valley of his lower belly, my cock nudging against his perineum, slick with my precum, and inching towards his ass. I held him in position while I ravished him to my delight. He was willing and lustful, unlike me when my Master did this to me. He did his best to overpower me, but he couldn’t fight me using heightened capabilities, so he ended up softening in under me, every muscle but his rock hard penis. I kissed him senseless and breathless and when he was nothing but a gasping pile of flesh leaking precum between our tight pressed. I pulled up again to stare at him, and the sight of him, relaxed and tender struck hard into me. My hand loosened on my grip on him and came down caressing his arms and face.
“How could I let you go when I was alive?”
His dark eyes looked at me.
“Let me go?”
I leaned down again and kissed his lips tenderly.
“Let go my chance to find out if I could fall in love with you.”
His eyes widened, but he said nothing. I felt warm inside, and smiled at him. I couldn’t stop thinking how I had never seen anyone as beautiful to me as him. He might not be able to compete with the legendary beauty of my Master, Massimo Rossi, born Radu the Handsome, but he was more to me than anyone had ever been. My lips burned for him and I found myself attached to his mouth before I could even realize I was leaning for a kiss. His hands came around me and held me to him as we rolled again to our sides, holding each other tight, kissing and touching, rubbing up our bodies until they fell into place. I stuck my fingers into his mouth and then reached behind him sneaking my fingers between his firm buttocks rubbing the deep path between them until my tips found his anus. Soft and wrinkled, it reacted to my touch pulsing, opening up as I teased it, rubbed circles into it, pressing it until two of my fingers slipped into him like a prey in quicksand. He moaned and quivered the pressing harder against me, seeking my mouth and clinging to it with a searing kiss as if he were the one sinking into the hot depths of his own body. His eyes, closed by the intensity, opened up burning like embers before he slowly pushed back against my hand. His lips parted and his eyes hazed as if he were to whisper something really naughty into my ear, but instead he drowned a moan in the depth of his throat throwing his head back and rolling his eyes into his head. His body, sinewy and incredibly flexible trembled between my arms and silently begged me for more. Would I have not seen him through the window that night with Draco, I would have sworn he was a virgin. I teased his ass open, slicking it up working it ready for my cock taking saliva sometimes from his lush mouth, sometimes from mine until his ass was leaking it to the covers underneath us. When my fingers slid out of him his legs perched up on my hips and I drove up into him smooth and easy. It was surprising for me how he had needed so little preparation to yield up to me. He must have sensed my surprise, but he was no longer in his right mind, for when he spoke up again, he did it in his native tongue.
“That much I have desired you.”
I kissed him deeply holding myself inside him, still careful not to hurt him. He arched up slowly against me, squeezing his ass and moaning deep in his throat getting up to the last drop of delight out of the moment. I kissed his neck, tongued it as he held it stretched out and then, feeling hunger born out of lust, my eyes flashed and I couldn’t stop myself from scratching my fangs against his skin. I wanted to drink from him just as I wanted to get moving and shot my cum into him. I however folded my upper lip over my fangs and willed them back, pushing myself just a little into him. I felt him relax a little and then he brought he head back, but keeping it tilted to the side so he could give me a good stretch of neck.
“Thirrsty?”
I smiled and kissed his beautiful neck.
“No, not really.”
He moved his shoulder up and down in a careless fashion, and then tilted his head more on the pillow.
“Take a bite.”
My eyes were flashing ice blue and I felt my fangs escape from under my lip like my cock does when it hardens under skimpy underwear. I wanted to protest, tell him that it wasn’t necessary, really, but my fangs had a mind of their own. I saw him falling under the spell of my strange blue eyes and his mouth opened as if he expected a deep kiss, as if he wanted to scream out, but it closed some as I pressed my forehead to his, like two stags engaging in a power fight. I flashed my fangs to him and sniffed up his face as if I were a werewolf rather than a vampire. I kissed him, letting him taste the sharp teeth in my mouth, which I knew made him curious. He traveled my mouth, learning it, paying special attention to my fangs.
“Have me...” he said forgetting again the language in which he talked to me.
I didn’t have to be asked twice and I sunk my fangs into his neck gulping on his thick, rich blood from his elastic aorta. It flowed into my mouth filling me just like I was filling Viktor up his ass. It was my time to tremble as I fed and sunk into him. His heartbeat ran across my chest, filling my dead heart with his life, cupping me up and making me fly. I pressed harder into him, closing his wound and lapping up the remaining blood as I took on his body, filling it, pumping it and loving it until he lost his control, lost himself in me, on me, against me, and became undone. Blushed cheeks, sweaty skin, open, red mouth, knitted eyebrows… he forgot place, time and language as he held harder into me, pushed against me and moaned beautifully, pleading for more in his lovely, purring native tongue.
“More, more, more…please.”
“You can have all you want..” I promised him.
I kissed him profusely, rolling him onto his back, topping him as I took him. I made him promises I wanted to fulfill, I would fulfill that night, but which I had no idea if I could keep on the long run. Rossi came back like a shadow to my mind, but this time I ignored him, and pushed myself into the haven of Viktor’s body. His blood was running through my hungry veins like life potion, ripping me from the grip of the dusty Scholomance and plunging me into an existence full of him, around him, inside him in which we picked up where we could have left it nine years ago if he would have worked up the guts to approach me and if I would have dared to allow myself to try out something that was strictly forbidden by the rules the governed my restricted, controlled life then.
His legs squeezed around me urging me deeper. I have no idea why does he complain about his body, all in all it’s in perfect shape and he proved it lifting his hips and thrusting against me hard and fast for such a long time it would have broken anyone’s bones, including mine. His hands went from my shoulders to my hips and then my thighs as he used his arms as leverage. His chest arched up beautifully against me looking like a huge cat, fast, flexible and just as deadly.
“more, more, more…”
I couldn’t deny anything from him. I rose on my knees and pumped into him as hard as I could without hurting him. His hard cock bounced between us with each movement and he shouted loud his pleasure. Blood dried on his neck making him look all the more beautiful for me. It hurt like hell thinking of parting from him. It was maddening to have to leave him, to hung the possibility of seeing him again in the air like a random chance. I pulled him up, pressed us against the headboard and I attacked the other side of his neck, drinking him and kissing him, for a moment thinking about drinking him entirely, keep all his blood in my body as if that were a way to carry him around with me eternally. However I stopped before he would weaken, and held him tight, now fucking him straight into climax. He shouted and bit into my shoulder hard, though he did not drew blood from me. I kept pumping into him until I hit my peak and filled him. His cum glued our bellies together and my cum started leaking from his ass, around my still hard cock. We were so worked up, so wired even after cumming, him even after I have taken his blood twice, that we remained against the headboard, holding into each other, with the sweat cooling on our skins for a long while. He collapsed first, falling on my shoulder and crumbling down. I slipped us under the covers and gathered him in my arms, but he was long asleep, didn’t even said or received a good night wish. I kissed his eyelids softly and then nuzzled his hair holding him to my chest.
It’s been hours since then, and I haven’t been able to fall asleep. I hold him to me, unwilling to let him go, my chest breaking with pain for I know I have to. What am I supposed to do? I live like a muggle now, and I can’t, just can’t go back to the wizard world until the generation that has known me dies out. That includes him. I can’t expect him to leave everything for me. I can’t do that. Then, what do I have to offer him? The shadow of Rossi comes back to me and now I can’t ignore him. How will I explain Viktor that I have to keep giving Rossi my blood and body for as long as I live? I am not a Scholomance scholar, but a hostage. I owe my existence to him, and I have no right to ask him my freedom. Asking him so could mean giving back my existence, dying, and I don’t want to die. I want to stay. I can’t get on the floo system, and getting owls would not be wise. Ask him to get a phone? An e-mail? I want to stay in Sofia with him. I want to take him to Budapest with me, but I can’t do neither. Truth is, I am not free, I can’t really take decisions for myself.
He stirs up and I feel him blinking his eyes against my chest.
“Did I woke you up?” I ask softly.
He rubs his face and pushes up looking at me.
“Kan’t sleep?”
I shake my head.
“Long trrip? Tomorrov.” He looks at the clock on the nightstand and smiles “Vell, today.”
I smile, but I can’t keep my sadness from my lips.
“Yes.”
“Vhat is the plan?”
I know he’s being casual, careless, trying to take my mind away from matters he thinks he has no right prying into. But the truth is he has all the right.
“Well,” I hug him to my chest. “I have to catch the plane to Bucharest at eight, so I have to be at the airport at six. Then I follow in train to Sibiu.” I make a pause. I thought I was going to Kolozsvár first, but it seems my mind is made. “I’ll go to my Master, fulfill with my duties and then try to sell him the idea of taking Malfoy as my replacement. He’s handsome and a gifted scholar… I don’t see why he would reject the deal.”
I fall into a long silence, which he doesn’t interrupt, studying me. In his breathing I can tell he’s growing concerned, anxious, so I pick up.
“Hopefully that will take me only a week, then I will go back to Bucarest and fly to Budapest.” I turn at him and smile satisfied. “I have a great proposal for some classes at the University.”
He smiles sincerely at me and kissed my chest. I smile for a while, but then, as the sky wearing the darkness thin and light starts spilling, I feel the dread of a good-bye.
“You know what my duties to my Master are, do you?”
He says nothing, looking outside the window and holding a long silence.
“I kan imagine.”
“He fucks me.” I clarify.
“I imagined that much.”
I caress his head.
“I’m not free. I owe my existence to him, and I have to pay for that… still… in blood and body. Then… I follow a muggle lifestyle… I can’t floo, I can’t owl…”
“Arre you… brreaking up vith me?”
His question is so soft, so shy, I can feel the pain he tries to hide with his low tone of voice. I hold him tight to my chest and kiss his head hard.
“I don’t want to,” I say with my voice breaking in spite of me “But… can I ask you to put up with me giving my body to someone else I owe it? I’ve been thinking on ways to break my debt to him-“
He places his fingers on my lips shushing me gently. He kisses my lips and caresses my face.
“That is the prrice forr a sekond chance vith you. I am no-van to judge. I aksept it.”
I stare into his dark eyes, warm like embers and I can’t believe I’m so lucky. I feel about to cry, when I see him smirk and move on top of me reaching for the nightstand.
“As forr no ovls…” he falls back on the bed with my iPhone in his hands. “I kan learrn to use this thing to kall you, rright?”
His fingers bring the screen back to life and he plays with it while I bite my lips and curl my fingers to keep myself from ripping the delicate artifact from his hands. It’s not like I love my iPhone more than him (but I went through a lot of trouble to get it!), and I try to let go of my mugglish impulse to protect the handheld from the human. I pull him closer and start teaching him how it works. He’s confused with the prefixes and how is he supposed to reach me, but then he nods understanding. I explain him that he needs to get a mobile phone line in Bulgaria, and then I show him where he must put the SIM Card. He plays a little more with the phone, now quickly catching up on it, finding functions and games I have not discovered, making his first contact with the Internet through the GPRS. He’s like a child, smiles wild and asks questions. When he founds the site of NCIS, he sits up on the bed excited, filling up the iPhone with wallpapers and screensavers of Jen and Ziva (his favorites) and changing my ringtones.
“I love this stuff!” he claims happily.
I lean over his shoulder and watch him browse through other sites.
“The muggle world is filled with them. There’s more than you can imagine… you would love it.”
He looks at me serious for a second. I can’t believe I have actually placed the offer to take him with me.
“I’m…” I stammer “I’m not usually in one place, but could settle. Hungary is a good place to be. But I guess… after these seminars, I could settle here too.”
He searches my gaze and his eyes can’t hide the hope he feels from me.
“I vould like to know Hungary. I have frriends frrom therre. Language is not that diffikult. I kould learrn.”
Oh, the language is so difficult! But I smile at him.
‘I kan ask forr trransferr… to muggle univerrsity.”
I laugh a little.
“Do you even know the name of the University where you would be teaching.”
He smiles at me shaking his head like a mischievous child.
“Eötövs Lóránt” I tell him.
The day is breaking outside and light is invading everything, even my heart. He smiles and jumps out of the bed. He knows I have to get ready to catch my plane. As I dress, him already dressed and carding his fingers through his hair for combing, he asks me with half a laugher.
“Is it Frred?”
“Excuse me?”
He leans on the low armoir looking at me.
“Yourr name now. Frred, right? Frred Hunyadi.”
I blink at him. He smiles thinking he had nailed it right, and so he explains.
“Vell, you told me about yourr tvin brrotherr who died vhen you verre childrren, who you kould neverr forrget. I rrememberr you said you had to leave yourr old life behind but since you diskoverred yourr Masterr kept van thing frrom his past, you kept also van. You kept yourr brrotherr. You hid him in yourr new name, rright?”
I smile at him, come close and kiss his lips.
“Oh yes, you have slept with a man and don’t even know his name. What a slut, Viktor Krum!” I tease him.
“I know yourr name.” he insists kissing me back. “Frred Hunyadi. Vell,…” he thinks a little, “Ferrents Hunyadi, rright?”
I shake my head and his eyes widen. He can’t believe he’s mistaken. He was so sure, and I can see it in his face. I cup his face and kiss him again, hold into the kiss and let the warmth of his blood, the warmth of the sun and the warmth inside me wrap around us like a blanket.
“The process is right, but the result is wrong.”
“I don’t underrstand..” he searches my eyes confused.
“I do hid the one thing I took with me, the one thing I can’t afford loosing, the one thing I love and carry on in my name.”
“But… it’s Frred, yourr brrotherr…”
I shake my head.
“Fred was important for Cedric, but when Cedric died, and I realized I could never join him, Fred was gone too. Cedric and Fredrick are now together. I… I am not Cedric anymore, but I do love one thing Cedric loved too, even if I never realized it fully while I was alive, or even as I walked the shadows in Scholomance. It took me time to realize what I want, what I love.”
He still looks at me confused. I smile and kiss him again.
“You were right: I’m not that smart. My own feelings hide from me and fool me. But then they catch up with me. I can’t escape them. I don’t want to.”
I move to go, but he stops me.
“Then, vhat’s yourr name?”
This is too funny. I laugh and look at him coyly.
“You should have asked before you slept with me! I’m not easing your guilt!”
I twist my hand out of his hold and go for my suitcase, throwing things into it. I never learned how to pack properly.
“Come on!” he insists now smirking, looking at the game part of it, even if he’s genuinely curious. “Tell me!”
I slip the SIM card off the iPhone, put it in my wallet and then throw the iPhone for him to catch.
“There. Keep it. I don’t want a Ziva-full phone.” I joke.
He smiles and thanks me beneath his breath, but as he tries to turn on the iPhone it won’t answer.
“You need to put a new SIM into it.”
“I need your name, so I can call you.” He says.
“Viktor.”
He looks up from the iPhone to me.
“Yes?”
“Viktor.” I say again.
“Yes.” He says again.
I shake my head and smile.
“You wanted to know. Viktor.”
His eyes bulged.
“Like… any Viktor?”
“Like you.”
THE END
This time it's the real deal!! I hope you have a very happy day today, with all your friend and family!
May this me the start of a great year where all your dreams come true!!
Locky The Bunny
Scholomance
Author: Yami no Tsubasa
Pairing: Krumggory
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine, and the pieces of story and information lifted from the various books are, OBVIOUSLY not mine, but belong to J.K.Rowling, Scholastic Books, Warner Bros, and whomever else own them. They are not mine. The topics about „Scholomance” and the legend, which I have liberally adapted to fit the story, are not my invention, and I have no idea if they belong to anyone. Rumania, I believe. I’m making no money out of this, so you better don’t sue me, or I will counter sue you on charges of diffamation, and whatever else my lawyers can come up with.
Warning: gay sex (duh), vampirism. OOC. Nationality change too. Profuse presence of muggle elements. Attempt at PWP... basically. Look, it was supposed to be a multi-paired, long story, which was developping nicely in my head, BUT then I could not bring myself to write it entirely. It would have taken me also forever and I didn't have forever. (I'm using "forerver" in last year's gift-fic). Plot-wise is a HUGE cliffhanger as many things are not explained or are half-explained. I know that, but in order to FIT IT in the entry, I had to chop and reduce from everywhere. Look at it this way: if the story pleases you, I could extend the story in further gifts. ^_^ Now, conversations in italics mean they are being told in Bulgarian.
Summary: read the story! ^_^ Nine years have passed since the triwizard tournament. Many things have changed, but some remain just the same.
---«(_.•˙°˙•._)»---
In twenty six years I have never felt like this, so alive. It makes me want to smirk and laugh at the irony of it, but I don’t wish to wake him up. He’s so peaceful as he sleeps next to me, his arms around my torso, his head on my chest, lulled only by my breathing because I no longer have a heartbeat to drum into his ear. The sound of his breathing, the little clipped up noise as he exhales makes me the happiest man on the world. I didn’t know, but he has a breathing problem. It’s not serious, he claims lifting his hands defensively as if it were a flaw for which he should be severely punished. Yes, it’s not serious, but it’s a threat on his life. I slowly card my fingers through his dark hair from the nape up and smile as he frowns, moans like a child who don’t want to be disturbed but it’s too sleeping to say so, and then he rubs his face into my chest, looking for a protected position, only to end up like he was, but with his arm just a little bit higher. I try to pinpoint the moment, the day I have become so “involved”, so honestly caring, so concerned by someone else, but I can’t. Not in life, when I dragged my days with a permanent smile doing what was expected of me, living without living. Not after my death, when I was stripped of my former self and only a never experienced selfishness, defensiveness and bitterness took over me. I carry on a few regrets I should have left behind, but with his head pillowed on my chest, I can’t break the chains of my life.
I remember this song, I heard once in a Paris, at a café perhaps, or somewhere else where I sat down to work a little away from anything related to my job. My head was filled with many things, many thoughts, and perhaps it wasn’t my job from which I was escaping, my academic and professional responsibilities, but my memories and me myself. The song found me, and it sneaked into my head to stay. I didn’t knew the whole lyrics and though I tried the best I could, I couldn’t find nor the song’s title, not the singer. The soft voice of the female escaped my seeking capabilities, leaving only the words that told me about myself in the deepest, most painful of ways.
Arrête la Terre
Arrêter ou je vais sauter
Car ce qu'on manége m'étourdi
J'ai perdu une aile
Et j'arrive plus à m'envoler
J'ai perdu la moitié de moi
Là bas dans la nuit
Seul ici j'ai froid
Si froid sans toi
Aù plus profond de mon corps
Seul dans cette chambre où tout me semble faux
Ce soir je suis tomber de haut!!
I found myself singing the words underneath my breath as a prayer to whatever supreme power that would hear me and deliver me from my continued, brutalized existence.
We are in his hometown, Sofia, in my hotel room at the Sheraton Sofia Hotel Balkan. A muggle hotel. I smile for myself silently. „Muggle”. It’s a word I haven’t used in a while now. Our clothes lie all over the floor mixed and in complete disarray. I don’t care if they get dirty or wrinkled. I’m not metrosexual and I have never really embraced any of the archetypical features of „queer behavior”. Honestly, fashion leaves me cold. I wear whatever feels good, comfortable, giving in to only a few temptations, like my Diesel jeans and my Police sunglasses. My laptop is on the table near the window under customized folders of the „General Relativity and Hypergeometrical Analysis in Applied to the Modern Issues of the 21st Century” Seminar held at the Faculty of Mathematics of the Sveti Kliment Ghriski University. Papers and notes roll over, brochures, and printed invitations for all kinds of bars and parties at the wild Sofia at night. The guide of my own presentation on the hypergeometrical analysis is also scattered around, earmarked and written all over in my sketchy handwriting. God knows where my wallet is, maybe in my trousers, and where my keys are, but I don’t have to look to know that my iPhone is on the nightstand at hand reach. I look out the window and see the top floors of other buildings, as well as the pointy, red roof of one of the Sveta Nedelya Cathedral’s towers that give most of the charm to this hotel. I was not raised Christian, less a Catholic, but I have found a resting comfort in the images of the church. I’m an outcast to every sign of it, and should be rejected and burned, exorcised from the vicinity of the building, and yet I lay here, close and feeling secure.
The seminar is over and tomorrow I’m on the first plane back to Bucharest and then the first available train to Kolozsvár. From there I have an important trip to do to Sibiu, but I have never been able to take myself directly there. However, maybe this time I will rush there before taking a moment for soul fortifying at the small town I have chosen for home in Romania. I’m not sure it has sunk to him that I won’t be here tomorrow, that when I kiss him it will be a good-bye kiss. I feel like crying. I don’t want to lose him, not after I have found him, and though we could keep up the contact, we all know what happens with people when borders are put in between. He has a job here, and honestly, I don’t stay in Kolozsvár long enough. I move from seminar to seminar, rooting long only when I get to teach at a university, but otherwise bouncing from Madrid to Pjotrosbourg like a crazy ping-pong ball. I’m a mathematician. I’m a freelancing agent. My home is in Budapest now… and I still owe myself to someone else. It’s thanks to him that I have gotten an existence. It is for him that I can be here, with him in my arms, dozing after the best sex ever. I sight as I remember his large hazel eyes profusely freckled with gold chips. Like Polish amber looking at you with live, organic, beautiful morsels of life captured forever. His fine face is beautiful like I have hardly seen a match in these past years. Suggestive lips that the decent and gathered would call “seductive” and “voluptuous”, and which would be called by today’s outspoken and dirty world as “naughty” in the best place and “made-for-blowjobs” in the most likely scenario. “Fuckable”. Another world for that mouth. Tall, firm, formed, with broad shoulders and narrow hips and waist, taut belly and rock-hard thighs, long legs and swan-like long neck. He wears his hair long, mostly loose with his rich, perfect curls and waves cascading down to tease past the middle of his back. Sometimes, when he’s reading, he gathers it with a thin leather strip or a black ribbon. It happens that he doesn’t gather the whole mass of hair and a loose bang dances before his face. I’m used to that soft hair falling on my face, sliding up and down my body as he licks me, kisses me all over and makes me moan, even in spite of myself.
Yes, in spite of myself.
I died, but I never chose to be brought back. I did not plead for more days to spend among the living, though as I lay now here, in bed, with him, I’m glad that my Master, Massimo Rossi, de Devil of Scholomance had taken my corps from the earth, from my wood and satin bed, and infused me with the forbidden elixir of borrowed life and then turned me to his kind: a vampire. I was given the task of learning, broaden my curiosity and become a scholar. For it, as well as for the privilege of existing, I paid with my blood and my body. Only this was made clear with my Master. Only his request of blood of use of my body was ever outspoken. My education… well, that was my headache.
It was the first time that my academic performance was poor, and not because I didn’t try hard enough, but because I tried hard and wasn’t succeeding and giving him what he wanted: a token of my unadulterated curiosity, a sample of my capability of original thinking. I memorized and read all I could, without his guidance, with his piercing, freckled amber eyes disapproving me as I asked him for a direction to go.
“Your obedience is your doom. It has crippled you mentally.” He said.
I found it difficult to find out if I had to disobey or not, but if I ever tried to disobey his command to offer my blood or give him my body, I would find myself bound to his bed or his table, naked and teased until I screamed desperately to be drank or taken, and not seldom, both. My Master soon found out that, though pride was not a feature of mine, humiliation, exposure was a sure way to break me into obedience. It took me months to understand, and then I finally started felling into the path he wanted for me. I never succeeded in pleasing him academically. I learned and I could follow a thought line, but I couldn’t create something new, as he expected me to do. However, in the measure I displeased him with my attempts to become a scholar, I pleased him with my flesh. He would then just look at me and I would know what he wanted. I would walk to him, fall on my knees and give him a blow job or shed my clothes, climb his bed on al fours and rest my face on the pillow. Not once I loved him or wanted him, but it wasn’t like I didn’t learn you enjoy his treatment. He was good.
Soon he would try more and more games and things, dressing me as a Chinese Princess, a Japanese Shogun, a Hindu servant girl, an Arabesque belly dancer or an Arab youngster. I was for him a Russian peasant, a Medieval Knight, a monk, a priest, and Turkish slave, a Janissary. Anything and everything that would turn him on. He incited me to seduce him, and I did as part of this “job”, this eternal debt I had towards him. I learned I was irresistible when I threw myself spread on a couch, my legs perched on each arm, my arms over my head, holding into the back of the seat and my ass in the edge. He would rip my clothes off and kiss me. If I laughed lustful, he got more turned on and that would lead only to endless hours of the best sex I ever had. Seducing him was the only control I could have in a world where my mind, which have never been my strongest feature, was an embarrassing disappointment. In a place where I was on the bottom of everything, good only as a whore, I found out that seduction gave me the only grasp of control, so I clutched into him. When I chose the mathematics as my field, my Master stared at me displeased:
“Just that? You are so limited within yourself.”
But when I gave him a coy smile, if I looked at him sideway tilting my head and giving him a look of stretched neck, if I spread my legs just the right way, he was butter in my hands. I shook my hips for him dressed in the soft, colorful silks he had chosen for me. I talked dirty to him in the very Turkish he had taught me. Lowered my voice to a husky whisper and danced for him, played the role of the captive Turkish hostage boy, the Janissary that would kill for his master, his new, adopted family. He loved my grey eyes outlined thick with smoky coal, the way my gaze deepened and earned strength from the makeshift, ancient make up. He sat comfortably on a multitude of brocade and damask cushions, dressed in the fashion of the richest, most powerful Sultans, smiling pleased at me as I moved at the rhythm of the music he had selected for me. When he extended his hand towards me, I fell on my knees, and crawled up to him. He held me in his arms and kissed me, peeling back the tight yellow vest he had put on me, the orange shirt and sneaking his hands under the red sash tied tight around my waist into my flowing green silk trousers. In my mind, I looked like some kind of silk rainbow, but he loved the combination, and I had to admit that it had a strange cohesion to it. If I was his Jannisary, my clothes would never come off, even as he took my body and drank my blood. I would not attempt taking them off, moaning and gasping, begging only in Turkish like a native.
“Do you love me?” he asked me once after one of these seducing games turned into three hours of heated sex.
I wasn’t the sweet boy I had been, when I was alive, when I was Cedric Diggory. With smoky eyes, coal smeared with sweat and kisses all over my face, his words fell empty on me. It was no longer part of my role to answer those questions and I felt nothing for him to protect him or make it easier on him.
“No.”
He smiled at my sincerity, and caressed my head as we stayed in bed recovering our breath.
“For a moment I thought…”
“I do what’s requested from me.” I cut into his word dryly. “Don’t get ideas.”
Silence.
“Have you ever loved anyone?”
“Why is that important now?”
“Have you?”
“No.”
I found out he had, but then, I didn’t knew that maybe I had. It was me in my Master’s arms, in his bed, and sex was a chore, not like now. How many things have happened since then and how many things have I learned from him. He taught me the difference between the vampires everybody knew and the kind I was to become part of when my education was finished, when he made me one. He taught me that I was dead, that I should leave everything behind me, that once dead, I was no longer whom I used to be. He taught me to redo myself, that though I was suspended like a living corpse while I was not turned and I was what he made of me, his apprentice, his food and his whore, once turned it was up to me to decide what new man I would be. We could age at will, our hair and nails could grow and we had no need to bleed people white to satisfy our hunger. I could change my colors at will. My skin could go from albino pale to the darkest shade of black, my hair could go from any tone from white to jet black, and so my eyes could take any color. He taught me, insisted upon it, actually, that I should not take a thing from my previous life, almost like someone under a witness protection program. Through the eternal existence that I would lead now, I had to learn to let things go, never attach to them. In my obedience, I could do that, though I have always feared there would be one thing I could never let go: my twin brother Fred. His death at our age seven had scarred me deeply, turned me into a deformed person in the inside no one ever got to witness. I remember the painful envy with which I watched the Weasley twins, one of them a Fred, just like my Fred. I smiled at them and was polite as I was expected to be, nice and a good mate, but my heart and mind spent countless hours inventing deaths for George and ways to make Fred my Fred. It’s Ironic how it was me the one who died. Then, I died but I didn’t so I couldn’t finally join my Fred, and now I would never be able to. Fred was the one thing I was afraid I would never be able to let go. No, Scratch that. I was sure I would never be able to let him go.
I stumbled upon the true identity of my Master one day in the library. His name, his description, his very personal history, his portrait where in history books. My eyebrows arched up as page after page of the chronicles of Chalcondyles unveiled yet another chapter of my Master’s troubled childhood, his relationship with his two older brothers and then his violent love life. As I read about him, about the way he was made give himself to the Sultan’s son, I started to understand why he hated it when I behaved like a sex slave. He did not want to be remembered of it. I studied him, watched him, now that I knew who he was, without telling him, spying him to find out if he had carried something with him, so I could carry on with Fred. He noticed my watching, noticed me practicing on people from the TV, from the internet, from books profiling them.
“You are supposed to become a scholar, not a detective, Apprentice.”
I said nothing, had noting to tell him, but instead I walked to him, smiled, kissed his lips and pulled him on top of him. Sex was the best way to let him know I wanted him to lay off some topic… specially my inadequate academic capacities. He undressed me, I undressed him, he kissed me and I kissed him in return. I closed my eyes and turned my head to the side, offering him my neck for a snack. He drank me, turning then his bite into kisses he trailed down my neck to my chest and belly, pulling my remaining clothes out of the way until he reached my pubes. With my eyes closed, I arched up into his mouth, offered up my hardening self and imagined someone else. He kissed me, licked me, sucked me and then turned me around, rimmed me and when I was moaning, slick with his saliva and relaxed, pulsing against his tongue, he climbed up, licking my back until his mouth attached again to my neck and his cock lodged into my ass. It felt good, I can’t deny that, just as I couldn’t mask the satisfied moan escaping my throat. He laughed low and pushed deeper into me.
“You like that, don’t you?”
My chest was tight with heat and lust run through my veins. My eyes opened, but I did not look at him. I watched the dark stones of the wall and then arched up against him, working my hips and ass making him go deeper inside me. I would not talk to him as he satisfied himself on me, as I was caught and enjoyed myself, as I pushed against him, as I parted my legs for him, as I rose, as we rolled over and I straddled his hip and rode him like a cowboy.
It’s been a few years since that, since I spent everyday with him, since he had access to my blood and body every single day. I had been turned into a vampire since those days, and I took that chance to prove what I have learned about him. It was my little victory to realize I was right. He used to be a Romanian prince, a voivode as they called them, Radu the Handsome. His pride was the one thing, along with his traumatic memories, he couldn’t let behind. So I was entitled to keep one thing. I rubbed salt into his would by choosing to be Hungarian as he hated them the way Jews and anti-Semites hated each other. He did not like the fact that I chose Budapest to establish myself, far from him, or that I have learned Hungarian behind his back. My new last name, Hunyadi, was a personal affront to him and his family as it was the family name of a Hungarian viceroy who had tight links with his family and his family’s fate. He schooled his features, but couldn’t help frowning as he added:
“So, would your name be John now?”
I smirked and said:
“No.”
But the name that fell from my lips lashed into me. I kept myself together before him, covered up my own surprise and my own hurt with a smirk, in which I basked in his hurt, but as soon as I found myself alone, I searched my reflection in the mirror and I touched my lips, my eyes watering and spilling tears as I tried to understand why. Why that name? What had I kept from myself all these years?
For two years I traveled Europe avoiding the UK, choosing the muggle life, and so I found myself becoming a freelancer like many others, making friends here and there, all of them had no idea about the Wizarding world, and who would believe only on the magic of love and laughing at all the other kinds of magic thinking them to be mambo-yambo. No one I knew could ever see me, and it hurt to think that my original birth land was out of limits for me until all my family, friends and acquaintances died. They might have lost me, but I had lost all of them. I made a name for myself in a friendly place that embraced me without knowing me and considered me just fine to do my part. I have no idea what deranged thought made me take that offer at Bulgaria, but I did. Granted, when the offer came, I thought of Sofia only as “not UK”, and I didn’t thought any further, but then, as suddenly Sofia set in my mind as “the capital of Bulgaria” I realized all the reasons why I should mail back and decline the offer. I still had time to do so, but I never sent the rejecting mail. Perhaps I wanted to prove myself. I felt like playing with fire. However, unexpected things happened. As I made my way to the wizard part of Sofia, I walked into the less expected of wizards.
I saw his tall, elegant, lean frame in expensive robes and his platinum blond hair gathered at the nape of his neck with a black ribbon as he left the huge library of the biggest wizard university of Sofia. He did not see me, but something stroke me about him. So, for the next few days I followed him everyday, studying him. I found out that he possessed the natural, voracious curiosity I lacked. He studied by himself, sitting in the floor of the aisle, surrounded by books with his long legs crossed Indian style. I was amazed I have never seen this side of him. I could picture him like this at Hogwarts, sneaking into the library and devouring the words, the knowledge that spread open for him and his mind. Hours went by and he stayed there, alone with his books. In that moment I decided that, though no one who had know me in life should see me now, I would come to him and offer him my place at my Master’s side. As I watched him satisfying his hunger for knowledge I understood what Massimo Rossi, Radu the Handsome wanted from me. I still followed him next day, attempting to find a way to approach him. Why did I do that that night? Looked up for him and found him in a hotel room riding the cock of a man. Would I have a beating heart then, it would have skipped a heartbeat even before I could see him. But when he turned his face, even with the eyes closed and then looking up at the handsome blond bouncing on his dick with his dark eyes filled with lust, I had to rip myself from the window and fly away.
I first wanted to forget what I have seen, forget I have seen him, but then, my mind betrayed me and fantasized with the idea of taking the blond away, perhaps taking up on the chance of him taking my place at Scholomance and then I could keep the brunet. I shook my head hard, willing my thoughts away. I could not repeat my dark thoughts, I could not make him another Fred, and make the blond another George. The next night I found him again in the library, and this time I approached him. As he saw me, I stood frozen. As I saw him I was in awe. Despise having spied him for days, I have never came in direct view of his amazing grey eyes. I had seen them before. That shade, that very shade was like the eyes of Fred. My mind raced wild and I thought about keeping him at my side. It was like looking into Fred’s eyes. Why have I not noticed him sooner? Why it never strike me like that when we were at Hogwarts? He spoke first.
“My, my, weren’t you death, Diggory?”
I smiled at him.
“It’s good to see you too, Malfoy. I see you have grown up. Growing your hair to be more like your father?”
He smiled looking away.
“So, how did you pull that trick? Fake corpse? Had to run away from Chang?”
I walked closer and, taking his hand, I placed his palm flat on my chest and let him feel the lack of life in it.
“What has ever made you think I’m alive?”
His eyes widened and his hand tensed up, for a moment pulling it away from me.
“I have a proposal for you.” I whispered into his ear.
He remained quiet, fiercely schooled into a cool façade.
“You are a vampire.” He stated quietly.
“Meet me tomorrow… at lunch?”
He turned his face to me, looking me with great surprise. I smiled at him and leaned over the little gap between us kissing gently his lips. He didn’t pull away. I smiled again and I was gone. Alone, I touched my lips, closed my eyes and made an effort to firmly believe I have still found a trace of the brunet’s taste. I had no idea then what that lunch would bring to my life.
I was there and surprised him by walking at him on the broad daylight, taking off my Police sunglasses to let him see that the Sun had not more effect on me than what it had on him.
“What are you?” He asked me as we took place at the table. I explained him and I had him soon hooked. I presented him with my proposal, on which his scholar mind soon caught up. We finished with a tumbler of brandy on the terrace, smoothing details, and giving him my promise to take his requests back to Rossi. Well, I would have to explain Rossi first, but I was sure he would agree once he saw the picture I would give him about the devastatingly handsome Draco Malfoy. We were chatting calmly when steps came closer and I heard his hoarse voice.
“Is this the rreason? Him?”
Draco turned first at him, and then did I. He was angry, but as he saw me his face opened in surprise and he looked far younger than the twenty-six we were. His face was the face of a child. He had changed in the past nine years, but so had I. I had my hair chin length, in a style I had tried to copy from the French actor Olivier Martinez, and wore muggle clothes. He had let his close cropped hair grow into a style I recognized as mine when we were in Hogwarts. He was slimmer and wore open, plain grey robes over coal trousers and an olive colored jumper. Draco smiled pointing at him with his tumbler.
“He looks more like your reason, darling.”
I felt awkward looking at the both of them. He fixed me with his deep, dark gaze that leaked anger. I felt at loss, just like I used to with my Master. I tried smiling at him.
“It’s been a while.”
He looked at me.
“It has.” He said dryly. I thought that would be it, but then he added with deep sarcasm. “I’ve been surrviving, but vhat have you been doing? Besides being dead, of kourrse.”
I was surprised. He turned on his heels and was gone. I did not understand until Draco explained me. Viktor had been a wreck since that year. He left his career as Seeker and had become a shadow of the man he used to be. Now, as a historian for the University of Sofia, he followed other kinds of destructive behavior, such as drinking, smoking or engaging too much in a futureless relationship such as the one Draco offered him. For the blond, the former star was just a diversion, something to spend his free time while he was in Bulgaria, but nothing more. Now that he was going to marry and would work on breeding an heir, he had told the brunet he wouldn’t see him again for a long while. He didn’t really expect him to take it so bad.
So Viktor was free.
Through my new liaison to Draco, I did my best to talk to Viktor, as we met often now. He received me always with anger, with resentment. He didn’t even try being polite to me, but after a time he stopped his harsh remark and angered words, and clammed up himself. I sat near him, followed a pieced up chit-chat, swirling whisky in the bottom of a glass. Suddenly he exploded.
“Vhy do you play vith that as if you kould drrink it!!?” he shouted at me.
I looked at him not understanding, and then, looking at the whisky, I downed it. He only got madder.
“Like you kan feel that!”
He slapped the glass off my hand sending it to the floor, where it broke into a star tray of glass shards.
“You arre dead!!! You vampirr!!”
“I’m different than the average vampire, and you know that.”
He sneered.
“Like you have everr been that intelligent.”
“I never said I was.”
He walked around like a caged lion.
“Vhat do you vant frrom me?” he turned at me suddenly. I had no answer for that, but before I even tried one, he was shouting again. “You know vhat it vas forr me, huh? I vas devastated vhen you died! The vorld vas overr forr me and I kouldn’t even figurre out vhy!!! I trried to hide my pain but it vas eating avay my sanity! I sneaked at night to the morrtuarry hall vhere yourr korrpse vas kept! I klimbed on the table! I laid therre vith yourr korrpse and I KRRIED on yourr shoulderr!!!! And you did nothing! I vent nine yearrs obsessing about you and yourr death, drreaming vith having done something differrent and have spent morre time vith you, somehow, and I vas TORRTURRED because no amount of magik would let me!!! And I kan’t live forreverr in a time turnerr, even if I attempted to get my hands on one of those!”
His eyes were puffy now, and heavy with tears. I listened gobsmacked.
“You let me live nine yearrs thinking you verre gone and lost forr me!! And now you vant to prretend everrything is good and nice? FUKK YOU!!!”
This got me going.
“Because I had such a great existence these nine years, right??” I rose to my feet facing him. “I did not ask to be killed! I did not ask to be brought back! I was USED, you understand that? I had a Master to whom I had to whore myself out! I was forced to leave everything behind me! I was made cut my ties with whom I was! You call me Diggory still but I am no longer Cedric Diggory! I can’t even use that name any more! You say you lost me, but I’ve lost EVERYTHING!! So don’t dare blaming me for things I didn’t know of and things that were not under my control!”
He stepped closer to me and shouted in my face.
“Then go! Leave! You vant Malfoy! Have him! Leave me alone! Vhy don’t you just STOP KOMING TO SEE ME!!?”
Taking advantage of my heightened capabilities, I grabbed his face and kissed him hard before I could actually realize what was I doing. At first he did nothing, but then answered kissing me back furiously. It was more battle and anger than anything else. When my hunger rose, I broke the kiss violently. A thread of saliva stretched between out mouths and then broke in the air. He saw my skin becoming paler and my eyes chill and become ice blue.
“I have to catch a bite.” I said with a sneer pulling away.
He let me walk away a few steps before speaking again.
“Am I not good enough forr yourr fangs?”
I was mad and confused. I turned at him flashing my vampire eyes and my long, pointy fangs at him.
“Not in that mood. Good night.”
My catch of that night was meaningless. I don’t even remember if it was man or woman, but as I drank the blood and sunk my dick in him or her, I couldn’t stop picturing Viktor. After that, it took me a few days to see him again. I had agreed at one point to take part in yet another seminar, though my feelings about staying in the city were mixed. Draco was no longer there, so I had no valid excuse to stay. I should have been flying back to Sibiu, talking to Rossi. Not a week had been gone when we walked into each other at a coffee shop.
“I’m sorry for the other night.”
He shook his head.
“No… I vas… out of place. I’m sorry forr vhat I said.”
We smiled at each other, and for the first time we were able to feel good in each other’s company. In a few days I made up for the years we have missed, for the things we missed when I was alive. We laughed and went to places together. Then he offered me his blood for me too feed, and I agreed. Touching his skin with my lips was an experience that almost made my heart come to life again. When I finished, I found him blushing, heaving a little. I smiled to myself thankful that I didn’t need that much blood that would have kept him from blushing. I smiled and he did the same.
“That vas something.” He joked.
I laughed a little and then, touched his lips with my thumb.
“I’m sorry… I never stopped to think… I never meant to offend you when I kissed you.”
The blush was alive on his cheeks.
“You didn’t offend me…” he whispered against my thumb.
I smiled gratefully. That kiss was a topic we have both been avoiding, but of which I needed to know more. I wanted deeply to repeat it but this time without the anger, and the fighting. I needed to find out his feelings about it, so fishing was my only way to gather information about it.
“Vhat… you meant?”
My smile grew wider and I caressed his lips with my thumb leaning then to peck them.
“Oh, I just wanted to shut you up. You were shouting too much.”
He smiled and then laughed a little, close to me. He pecked me on the lips and then rested is forehead to mine.
“It vorrked, rright?”
My smile was getting smeared all over my face with lust. I meant to peck him, but my lips stuck to his longer than a peck should.
“Like a charm…” I whispered.
His arms came around me and he kissed me again.
“And… vhat you mean now?”
I held him to me hard, and kissed his lips, tasted them, sucked them, playing them until he melted and the question was nearly gone from his mind.
“I’m just happy to be with you… right now.”
He smiled amused and placed a tiny, butterfly kiss on my upper lip.
“That’s a good rreason forr a kiss.”
I was horny, I wanted him in bed, the two of us fucking until the flesh fell off our bones, but I contented myself with softly kissing him on the lips before stepping back.
“Whenever you want a kiss, don’t hesitate calling me.”
He looked away with an amused lopsided smile and then looked back at me nodding.
“I vill keep that in mind.”
I smiled and leaned closer.
“And when you feel ready to get over Draco Malfoy, please keep me in mind.”
He smiled and nodded.
“I vill.”
“Thanks for the dinner. It was great.”
I kissed his cheek and left. We saw each other often, spending long hours together, seeking the refuge of his department or at my hotel room, where we talked and sometimes kissed too. We held each other suffering each time I had to go and the embrace had to end. He talked me into sleeping over, so we didn’t have to break our embrace. We kissed in bed, caressed each other and fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Then came the hypergeometry seminar and as this was coming to an end, I couldn’t find another excuse to stay. I had to go back to Sibiu, and then check back to Budapest for an offer of a couple of classes to teach I received today by e-mail. This was my last night in Sofia, and I had no idea what would happen with Viktor, though I didn’t want to end anything with him. At his side I was happy, and I realized I had never been happy before.
“Are you ready to move on?”
We were on my bed, watching the TV, a muggle form of entertainment that had him caught up in no time. He looked up at me funny with a funny smile as his hands linked under his head.
“Move on? I don’t underrstand.”
An old chapter of NCIS was on and that seemed to interest him more than the current topic.
“Draco Malfoy.” I explained.
“Oh.” He said with a smile following still the criminal investigation. “It vas neverr rreally about him.”
My eyebrows arched. He watched the episode for a moment more before turning to me. My expression seemed to amaze him. The series finally lost its grip on him as he turned to his side, facing me. His hand reached out to my face caressing my eyebrows and circling under my eyes.
“His eyes. It vas… yourr eyes. I vanted you. He vas… the klosest thing to you forr me… then.”
I pulled him to me and kissed him hard. He wrapped himself around me and let me kiss him. This time around I couldn’t stop myself, and as I continued kissing him, I undid his shirt pulling it off his shoulders. He kept kissing me, but as my hands went for his pants, he stopped pulling me away from him.
“Vhat arre you doing?”
“What does it look like?” I smirked.
He shook his head and tried again.
“No. Vhat do you vant? Vhat arre you looking forr? Just seks? And adventurre in Sofia?”
I had told him I was leaving the next day. He knew that. How could I tell him I wanted him forever? How would I tell him I wanted to keep him in my life? On which basis? Making him move with me, when the logical thing would have been for me to stay, but I couldn’t not only because of my hectic job, but because I still owed myself to Rossi?
“I don’t vant anotherr Malfoy-like rrelationship. Not vith you.”
“It won’t be like that…”
“Then… vhat it vould be like?”
I kissed him hard, rubbed up to him until this time the question erased entirely from his mind. I didn’t want to answer that question and I would have hated to lie to him. I licked his mouth, touched him, sneaked my hand into his pants, jerked him until he was as horny as I was, as willing to go on with it, then I pulled his pants off and he just lifted his hips from the bed to make my job easier. Soon we were naked, rolling over each other, rubbing up and kissing desperately. I pulled away for a second to take him in. He was leaner, his body full of flowing, smooth lines. Not one marked out muscle as one would expect from an athlete, but then again, he was no longer one. His tummy was flat and the skin taut like the stretched skin on a drum. His thighs where slimmer now than what I remembered seeing at the Second Task, him in those short trunks, but they were still rock firm. I touched them softly, trailing my fingers up to the loin lines and leaning to kiss his navel.
“I’m not… vhat I vas, rright?”
I pulled up and kissed his mouth. I could see he was ashamed for his body, which was really gorgeous, but he thought he ought to look always like the Quidditch Star. I looked at him smiling and traced my index finger down the side of his face.
“You are older… and have my old haircut.” I flicked his bangs with my fingers.
He laughed and pulled mine playfully.
“You know vhat I mean.” He added a bit more seriously. I nodded and pecked him.
“You don’t have the body you used to have when you played.”
He nodded.
“I’m not alive… I don’t have the body I used to have either.” I added softly.
He looked away. I kissed his ear and then rubbed my nose into the side of his face.
“These are things we don’t talk about.”
He remained looking at the side, still, and I understood that sadness had taken away his desire. I sighed. I couldn’t believe this was happening.
“I don’t want the Quidditch player, shit, I don’t even follow Quidditch anymore.”
He turned to look at me.
“Vhat do you vant then?”
I had no idea what to say. I had it in my mind, in the tip of my tongue, but I feared the consequences, my own capacity to keep up my side of the deal. Rossi came over and over to my mind like the wall into which I pounded over and over when I tried to reach him.
“What do you have to offer?”
He stared into my eyes, and I saw, almost heard the answer in form in his mind, ready to fall from his lips: ‘Whatever you want’. I feared that answer as much as I wanted it. I had no idea what to tell him. Instead, he smirked suddenly and moved under me. He was adjusting, so I moved off him and watched him. Like a true professional model, he reached for the headboard holding his joined hands into it, tilted his head, spread his legs and looked at me warm and seductive. Stretched and offering, I understood then why Massimo fell each time I struck that pose in a chair. I needed no invitation as I grabbed his hip pulling him to my crotch. Looming over him, my eyes flashed ice blue for a second as the predator took over me. I attacked his mouth and he fought me back, but not like in that first angry kiss. It was a game of dominance. Secured his hands above his head with one of mine, and with the other I held him in place, fucking his mouth with my tongue while my hips rolled in the valley of his lower belly, my cock nudging against his perineum, slick with my precum, and inching towards his ass. I held him in position while I ravished him to my delight. He was willing and lustful, unlike me when my Master did this to me. He did his best to overpower me, but he couldn’t fight me using heightened capabilities, so he ended up softening in under me, every muscle but his rock hard penis. I kissed him senseless and breathless and when he was nothing but a gasping pile of flesh leaking precum between our tight pressed. I pulled up again to stare at him, and the sight of him, relaxed and tender struck hard into me. My hand loosened on my grip on him and came down caressing his arms and face.
“How could I let you go when I was alive?”
His dark eyes looked at me.
“Let me go?”
I leaned down again and kissed his lips tenderly.
“Let go my chance to find out if I could fall in love with you.”
His eyes widened, but he said nothing. I felt warm inside, and smiled at him. I couldn’t stop thinking how I had never seen anyone as beautiful to me as him. He might not be able to compete with the legendary beauty of my Master, Massimo Rossi, born Radu the Handsome, but he was more to me than anyone had ever been. My lips burned for him and I found myself attached to his mouth before I could even realize I was leaning for a kiss. His hands came around me and held me to him as we rolled again to our sides, holding each other tight, kissing and touching, rubbing up our bodies until they fell into place. I stuck my fingers into his mouth and then reached behind him sneaking my fingers between his firm buttocks rubbing the deep path between them until my tips found his anus. Soft and wrinkled, it reacted to my touch pulsing, opening up as I teased it, rubbed circles into it, pressing it until two of my fingers slipped into him like a prey in quicksand. He moaned and quivered the pressing harder against me, seeking my mouth and clinging to it with a searing kiss as if he were the one sinking into the hot depths of his own body. His eyes, closed by the intensity, opened up burning like embers before he slowly pushed back against my hand. His lips parted and his eyes hazed as if he were to whisper something really naughty into my ear, but instead he drowned a moan in the depth of his throat throwing his head back and rolling his eyes into his head. His body, sinewy and incredibly flexible trembled between my arms and silently begged me for more. Would I have not seen him through the window that night with Draco, I would have sworn he was a virgin. I teased his ass open, slicking it up working it ready for my cock taking saliva sometimes from his lush mouth, sometimes from mine until his ass was leaking it to the covers underneath us. When my fingers slid out of him his legs perched up on my hips and I drove up into him smooth and easy. It was surprising for me how he had needed so little preparation to yield up to me. He must have sensed my surprise, but he was no longer in his right mind, for when he spoke up again, he did it in his native tongue.
“That much I have desired you.”
I kissed him deeply holding myself inside him, still careful not to hurt him. He arched up slowly against me, squeezing his ass and moaning deep in his throat getting up to the last drop of delight out of the moment. I kissed his neck, tongued it as he held it stretched out and then, feeling hunger born out of lust, my eyes flashed and I couldn’t stop myself from scratching my fangs against his skin. I wanted to drink from him just as I wanted to get moving and shot my cum into him. I however folded my upper lip over my fangs and willed them back, pushing myself just a little into him. I felt him relax a little and then he brought he head back, but keeping it tilted to the side so he could give me a good stretch of neck.
“Thirrsty?”
I smiled and kissed his beautiful neck.
“No, not really.”
He moved his shoulder up and down in a careless fashion, and then tilted his head more on the pillow.
“Take a bite.”
My eyes were flashing ice blue and I felt my fangs escape from under my lip like my cock does when it hardens under skimpy underwear. I wanted to protest, tell him that it wasn’t necessary, really, but my fangs had a mind of their own. I saw him falling under the spell of my strange blue eyes and his mouth opened as if he expected a deep kiss, as if he wanted to scream out, but it closed some as I pressed my forehead to his, like two stags engaging in a power fight. I flashed my fangs to him and sniffed up his face as if I were a werewolf rather than a vampire. I kissed him, letting him taste the sharp teeth in my mouth, which I knew made him curious. He traveled my mouth, learning it, paying special attention to my fangs.
“Have me...” he said forgetting again the language in which he talked to me.
I didn’t have to be asked twice and I sunk my fangs into his neck gulping on his thick, rich blood from his elastic aorta. It flowed into my mouth filling me just like I was filling Viktor up his ass. It was my time to tremble as I fed and sunk into him. His heartbeat ran across my chest, filling my dead heart with his life, cupping me up and making me fly. I pressed harder into him, closing his wound and lapping up the remaining blood as I took on his body, filling it, pumping it and loving it until he lost his control, lost himself in me, on me, against me, and became undone. Blushed cheeks, sweaty skin, open, red mouth, knitted eyebrows… he forgot place, time and language as he held harder into me, pushed against me and moaned beautifully, pleading for more in his lovely, purring native tongue.
“More, more, more…please.”
“You can have all you want..” I promised him.
I kissed him profusely, rolling him onto his back, topping him as I took him. I made him promises I wanted to fulfill, I would fulfill that night, but which I had no idea if I could keep on the long run. Rossi came back like a shadow to my mind, but this time I ignored him, and pushed myself into the haven of Viktor’s body. His blood was running through my hungry veins like life potion, ripping me from the grip of the dusty Scholomance and plunging me into an existence full of him, around him, inside him in which we picked up where we could have left it nine years ago if he would have worked up the guts to approach me and if I would have dared to allow myself to try out something that was strictly forbidden by the rules the governed my restricted, controlled life then.
His legs squeezed around me urging me deeper. I have no idea why does he complain about his body, all in all it’s in perfect shape and he proved it lifting his hips and thrusting against me hard and fast for such a long time it would have broken anyone’s bones, including mine. His hands went from my shoulders to my hips and then my thighs as he used his arms as leverage. His chest arched up beautifully against me looking like a huge cat, fast, flexible and just as deadly.
“more, more, more…”
I couldn’t deny anything from him. I rose on my knees and pumped into him as hard as I could without hurting him. His hard cock bounced between us with each movement and he shouted loud his pleasure. Blood dried on his neck making him look all the more beautiful for me. It hurt like hell thinking of parting from him. It was maddening to have to leave him, to hung the possibility of seeing him again in the air like a random chance. I pulled him up, pressed us against the headboard and I attacked the other side of his neck, drinking him and kissing him, for a moment thinking about drinking him entirely, keep all his blood in my body as if that were a way to carry him around with me eternally. However I stopped before he would weaken, and held him tight, now fucking him straight into climax. He shouted and bit into my shoulder hard, though he did not drew blood from me. I kept pumping into him until I hit my peak and filled him. His cum glued our bellies together and my cum started leaking from his ass, around my still hard cock. We were so worked up, so wired even after cumming, him even after I have taken his blood twice, that we remained against the headboard, holding into each other, with the sweat cooling on our skins for a long while. He collapsed first, falling on my shoulder and crumbling down. I slipped us under the covers and gathered him in my arms, but he was long asleep, didn’t even said or received a good night wish. I kissed his eyelids softly and then nuzzled his hair holding him to my chest.
It’s been hours since then, and I haven’t been able to fall asleep. I hold him to me, unwilling to let him go, my chest breaking with pain for I know I have to. What am I supposed to do? I live like a muggle now, and I can’t, just can’t go back to the wizard world until the generation that has known me dies out. That includes him. I can’t expect him to leave everything for me. I can’t do that. Then, what do I have to offer him? The shadow of Rossi comes back to me and now I can’t ignore him. How will I explain Viktor that I have to keep giving Rossi my blood and body for as long as I live? I am not a Scholomance scholar, but a hostage. I owe my existence to him, and I have no right to ask him my freedom. Asking him so could mean giving back my existence, dying, and I don’t want to die. I want to stay. I can’t get on the floo system, and getting owls would not be wise. Ask him to get a phone? An e-mail? I want to stay in Sofia with him. I want to take him to Budapest with me, but I can’t do neither. Truth is, I am not free, I can’t really take decisions for myself.
He stirs up and I feel him blinking his eyes against my chest.
“Did I woke you up?” I ask softly.
He rubs his face and pushes up looking at me.
“Kan’t sleep?”
I shake my head.
“Long trrip? Tomorrov.” He looks at the clock on the nightstand and smiles “Vell, today.”
I smile, but I can’t keep my sadness from my lips.
“Yes.”
“Vhat is the plan?”
I know he’s being casual, careless, trying to take my mind away from matters he thinks he has no right prying into. But the truth is he has all the right.
“Well,” I hug him to my chest. “I have to catch the plane to Bucharest at eight, so I have to be at the airport at six. Then I follow in train to Sibiu.” I make a pause. I thought I was going to Kolozsvár first, but it seems my mind is made. “I’ll go to my Master, fulfill with my duties and then try to sell him the idea of taking Malfoy as my replacement. He’s handsome and a gifted scholar… I don’t see why he would reject the deal.”
I fall into a long silence, which he doesn’t interrupt, studying me. In his breathing I can tell he’s growing concerned, anxious, so I pick up.
“Hopefully that will take me only a week, then I will go back to Bucarest and fly to Budapest.” I turn at him and smile satisfied. “I have a great proposal for some classes at the University.”
He smiles sincerely at me and kissed my chest. I smile for a while, but then, as the sky wearing the darkness thin and light starts spilling, I feel the dread of a good-bye.
“You know what my duties to my Master are, do you?”
He says nothing, looking outside the window and holding a long silence.
“I kan imagine.”
“He fucks me.” I clarify.
“I imagined that much.”
I caress his head.
“I’m not free. I owe my existence to him, and I have to pay for that… still… in blood and body. Then… I follow a muggle lifestyle… I can’t floo, I can’t owl…”
“Arre you… brreaking up vith me?”
His question is so soft, so shy, I can feel the pain he tries to hide with his low tone of voice. I hold him tight to my chest and kiss his head hard.
“I don’t want to,” I say with my voice breaking in spite of me “But… can I ask you to put up with me giving my body to someone else I owe it? I’ve been thinking on ways to break my debt to him-“
He places his fingers on my lips shushing me gently. He kisses my lips and caresses my face.
“That is the prrice forr a sekond chance vith you. I am no-van to judge. I aksept it.”
I stare into his dark eyes, warm like embers and I can’t believe I’m so lucky. I feel about to cry, when I see him smirk and move on top of me reaching for the nightstand.
“As forr no ovls…” he falls back on the bed with my iPhone in his hands. “I kan learrn to use this thing to kall you, rright?”
His fingers bring the screen back to life and he plays with it while I bite my lips and curl my fingers to keep myself from ripping the delicate artifact from his hands. It’s not like I love my iPhone more than him (but I went through a lot of trouble to get it!), and I try to let go of my mugglish impulse to protect the handheld from the human. I pull him closer and start teaching him how it works. He’s confused with the prefixes and how is he supposed to reach me, but then he nods understanding. I explain him that he needs to get a mobile phone line in Bulgaria, and then I show him where he must put the SIM Card. He plays a little more with the phone, now quickly catching up on it, finding functions and games I have not discovered, making his first contact with the Internet through the GPRS. He’s like a child, smiles wild and asks questions. When he founds the site of NCIS, he sits up on the bed excited, filling up the iPhone with wallpapers and screensavers of Jen and Ziva (his favorites) and changing my ringtones.
“I love this stuff!” he claims happily.
I lean over his shoulder and watch him browse through other sites.
“The muggle world is filled with them. There’s more than you can imagine… you would love it.”
He looks at me serious for a second. I can’t believe I have actually placed the offer to take him with me.
“I’m…” I stammer “I’m not usually in one place, but could settle. Hungary is a good place to be. But I guess… after these seminars, I could settle here too.”
He searches my gaze and his eyes can’t hide the hope he feels from me.
“I vould like to know Hungary. I have frriends frrom therre. Language is not that diffikult. I kould learrn.”
Oh, the language is so difficult! But I smile at him.
‘I kan ask forr trransferr… to muggle univerrsity.”
I laugh a little.
“Do you even know the name of the University where you would be teaching.”
He smiles at me shaking his head like a mischievous child.
“Eötövs Lóránt” I tell him.
The day is breaking outside and light is invading everything, even my heart. He smiles and jumps out of the bed. He knows I have to get ready to catch my plane. As I dress, him already dressed and carding his fingers through his hair for combing, he asks me with half a laugher.
“Is it Frred?”
“Excuse me?”
He leans on the low armoir looking at me.
“Yourr name now. Frred, right? Frred Hunyadi.”
I blink at him. He smiles thinking he had nailed it right, and so he explains.
“Vell, you told me about yourr tvin brrotherr who died vhen you verre childrren, who you kould neverr forrget. I rrememberr you said you had to leave yourr old life behind but since you diskoverred yourr Masterr kept van thing frrom his past, you kept also van. You kept yourr brrotherr. You hid him in yourr new name, rright?”
I smile at him, come close and kiss his lips.
“Oh yes, you have slept with a man and don’t even know his name. What a slut, Viktor Krum!” I tease him.
“I know yourr name.” he insists kissing me back. “Frred Hunyadi. Vell,…” he thinks a little, “Ferrents Hunyadi, rright?”
I shake my head and his eyes widen. He can’t believe he’s mistaken. He was so sure, and I can see it in his face. I cup his face and kiss him again, hold into the kiss and let the warmth of his blood, the warmth of the sun and the warmth inside me wrap around us like a blanket.
“The process is right, but the result is wrong.”
“I don’t underrstand..” he searches my eyes confused.
“I do hid the one thing I took with me, the one thing I can’t afford loosing, the one thing I love and carry on in my name.”
“But… it’s Frred, yourr brrotherr…”
I shake my head.
“Fred was important for Cedric, but when Cedric died, and I realized I could never join him, Fred was gone too. Cedric and Fredrick are now together. I… I am not Cedric anymore, but I do love one thing Cedric loved too, even if I never realized it fully while I was alive, or even as I walked the shadows in Scholomance. It took me time to realize what I want, what I love.”
He still looks at me confused. I smile and kiss him again.
“You were right: I’m not that smart. My own feelings hide from me and fool me. But then they catch up with me. I can’t escape them. I don’t want to.”
I move to go, but he stops me.
“Then, vhat’s yourr name?”
This is too funny. I laugh and look at him coyly.
“You should have asked before you slept with me! I’m not easing your guilt!”
I twist my hand out of his hold and go for my suitcase, throwing things into it. I never learned how to pack properly.
“Come on!” he insists now smirking, looking at the game part of it, even if he’s genuinely curious. “Tell me!”
I slip the SIM card off the iPhone, put it in my wallet and then throw the iPhone for him to catch.
“There. Keep it. I don’t want a Ziva-full phone.” I joke.
He smiles and thanks me beneath his breath, but as he tries to turn on the iPhone it won’t answer.
“You need to put a new SIM into it.”
“I need your name, so I can call you.” He says.
“Viktor.”
He looks up from the iPhone to me.
“Yes?”
“Viktor.” I say again.
“Yes.” He says again.
I shake my head and smile.
“You wanted to know. Viktor.”
His eyes bulged.
“Like… any Viktor?”
“Like you.”
THE END