Obligations 2, Part Two
Title: Obligations 2 (in two parts)
Author: ZS
Rating: R, slash
Disclaimer: HP & its characters are not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Words: ~15,600
Summary: A follow-up to Obligations.
Notes: Special thanks to dacro and millefiori who inspired me to start writing this story; extra special thanks to luzmaria8, who inspired me to keep writing.
Draco opened the door to his study. Being away for three days meant three day's worth of catching up to do, and Draco was exhausted. There was a stack of owls waiting for his reply on his desk and just as many that he needed to write. Organizing vampires was a more tedious task than he had originally envisioned; apparently, his new preternatural abilities did not include creating more hours in a night.
His hand was cramping and the candles were guttering when he felt a ripple of magic from his neck to the base of his spine. He broadened his senses to include the surroundings of the castle, and he distinctly heard a disgruntled Harry Potter cursing portkey technology and vowing to lop off the inventor's head, should he ever get the chance.
The pebble portkey he'd given Harry was designed to deposit him in a safe location just outside the castle grounds; like Hogwarts, this castle was designed to appear as ruins to the general uninformed public. The drop zone was surrounded by containment spells-a precaution for unsuspecting or unfriendly persons who might accidentally activate the portkey spell-and Harry would need someone to let him out. Unable to suppress a smile, Draco went to meet him.
###
The portkey inventor, Harry decided, spitting still more grass out of his mouth from his undignified face-plant in the clover upon arriving, needed to be hexed. He was managing to work himself into a huff; the spells he was casting at the surrounding wards were working, but frustratingly slowly.
It was only when Draco appeared, a wide cat-smile on his face, that he finally felt like he'd managed to leave Hogwarts, however temporarily, behind.
***
"What did you tell them?" Draco said, leading Harry into the castle. The castle's exterior had been impressive: old stones and moss and spires that seemed to stretch up forever. The interior was just as opulent as he remembered, with paintings and lush carpeting and fresh-cut flowers.
"That I needed to take a break. That I was feeling burned out."
"Did you make a scene?" Draco's eyes lit up in anticipation of Harry's answer, and Harry laughed.
"Depends on your definition, I guess. I... hope you don't mind that I came unannounced."
"I'm surprised, but not unpleasantly so. Are you hungry?"
"I, err-"
Harry looked over to where Max was just leaving the foyer out of politeness' sake. Draco gave an amused snort. "I meant for you. Besides, we do have regular food in the castle. Max and the others do eat, you know."
Harry ran a hand through his hair. He was feeling ruffled and out of his element again, but the difference between this and Hogwarts was that he didn't feel the same sense of impending doom.
"Not just yet."
"Okay. Come on, then."
"Where are we going?"
Harry hurried to catch up with Draco, who was striding down one of the corridors.
"I thought I'd show you around. You had a rather limited tour the last time you were here. What's wrong?"
Harry shook his head. "Nothing. I guess I thought you'd have things to do."
"Well, I do, in fact."
"Oh."
"But with you here, my priorities have shifted."
"Why?"
"Because this is much more pleasant. Do you know how complicated the tax forms are for a castle dwelling?"
"You're doing your taxes? Err. Don't you have people to do that for you?"
"I'm a vampire, Harry, not the Queen of England. Anyway, if you were thinking of turning into a vampire to avoid paying taxes? Not a smart financial move. I can't even deduct the cost of the sunlight resistant windows as medical expenses."
Draco had a grin on his face as he stepped through the archway into a larger series of rooms; Harry had to run to catch up after he'd finished gaping. Draco had a sense of humour. Who knew?
###
The tour started with a walk through the gardens. Harry remembered the names of the various plants that Draco had mentioned on his previous visit, and while they didn't linger too long on the spot where Draco had bitten him, they still managed to exchange a significant look which quickly turned more intense than either of them had really intended. Next, they moved through the gallery of oil paintings and then one of a dozen formal dining areas. Draco was certain that Harry was bored out of his mind, but they kept talking throughout, mostly about inconsequential things. Draco was vaguely concerned that they were running out of inconsequential things to talk about, and afterwards, they would have to actually have a discussion with significance, which he both anticipated and dreaded.
The tour ended with a visit to the Aviary. Harry was immediately enthralled by the sheer variety of birds; the falcons, especially, seemed to be intrigued by him in return, hopping closer to have a better look. Draco watched Harry smile as one of the more fearsome looking falcons tamely accepted a crust of bread from Harry's fingers.
"You can't hide here forever, you know," Draco said, finally broaching the topic that both of them had been quite happy to avoid. He watched Harry's shoulders stiffen at his insinuation, and the shadow that crossed his face.
"I'm taking a break," Harry said carefully. "I told you earlier."
"Indeed you did. But things have a way of getting away from you, whether you choose for that to happen or not. Is it an issue with your new Defense instructor... what was his name...?"
"There's nothing wrong with Rafael. He's a better teacher than Snape ever was." Harry's gaze flickered; he must have noticed how that comment had affected Draco despite how hard he tried not to react. "He asks me about you all the time."
Harry quietly called the falcon a 'pretty bird' and pet its head without having his fingers nipped.
"I would think that you have more pressing matters to discuss during these sessions than me."
Harry shook his head. "He tells me that he's drawn to those images because I'm denying something about them. Like a signal fire or something; he can't help but look."
"Interesting."
Harry looked up suddenly. "I didn't mean... hell." More quietly, he said, "I didn't mean to say that at all."
"Think nothing of it."
Harry narrowed his eyes. "You always seem to know exactly what to say. Of course, that's probably why you're allowed to sit in on those meetings and why I'm locked out."
"Believe me, nothing of consequence was discussed at those meetings which you were excluded from. They were merely trying to ascertain my readiness to commit to the contract. No trade secrets were shared."
"Why didn't you tell me that when I asked you?"
"Like I told you at the time: I didn't think I should have been the one to tell you at all. You did ask, didn't you?"
"I did."
"And?"
"And I was told that I didn't need to know certain things. That it was better if I concentrated my efforts on honing my skills. To be a killing machine; that's what they want, you know. Remus told me I was supposed to be the arrow."
"Ahh. And someone else is pulling the string. Or strings, if you will." At Harry's raised eyebrow, Draco laughed. "Whenever I need to impress someone with my speech, I always think of my father. It helps the right words come to mind."
"I wish I knew what to say to them."
"You did negotiate yourself some time off."
"Two days. They wanted to send an escort, for god's sake." Harry sighed, and the falcon squawked and flapped out of range. Harry tossed the remainder of the bread onto the floor where it was devoured by the other birds in a matter of seconds. "I'm not a child. I don't need a keeper. I need-"
Harry didn't finish his sentence, and Draco didn't push.
###
As the night wore on, they retreated to the conservatory. Max appeared in the doorway; Draco had summoned him somehow, though Harry hadn't seen the mechanism. They conferred quietly, before Draco turned back to Harry and Max left the room.
"I've asked Max to have the house elves prepare a room for you. He'll bring you the key when it's ready and stay with you till you're ready to retire for the night."
"And you…"
"I'll be attending to those things which I deferred when you arrived. And before you get all ruffled thinking that I'm assigning you a babysitter, it's called being a good host, all right?"
Harry held up his hands. "All right."
Draco nodded and gathered up the parchments on the table. He cast a quick look back over his shoulder.
"Go on," Harry said. "I'll be fine."
"I wasn't checking up on you. I was just… seeing if I had left my quill somewhere."
"It's in your hand," Harry said, with a quiet smile.
"Oh. Good. I'll catch up with you in a few hours, then."
Harry nodded, and Draco left.
***
Harry wasn't alone for very long. It was just long enough for him to contemplate why he'd chosen to come here, of all places, and wonder whether it had to do with the After-Bite Effect or all the stress he'd been under. When Max came to give him the key to his room, Harry had already started to yawn constantly, and he decided to try to get some rest.
"Can I ask you something?" he said, as Max led him to his room. "You've heard of the After-Bite Effect?"
"Of course," Max replied, so casually that Harry was momentarily stunned.
"So… you think it's real."
"Of course it's real. Why else would we donors stay? It's part of the job."
"And you just accept it?"
"It's either that or go crazy." Max paused in front of a large, ornate door and unlocked it, pushing it open.
"Does it ever bother you?"
"Sometimes. But I'm not the one with feelings for him, am I?" Max gave him an encouraging smile. "If you need anything, use the intra-castle Floo. Goodnight, Harry."
***
Harry tried his best to sleep. He'd thought that being away from Hogwarts would lessen his tendency to have nightmares, but his body wouldn't even give him the chance to have a thorough night's sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind was besieged with an endless slew of thoughts. How was he supposed to know which feelings were authentically his, if any? What exactly did 'encouraging our partner's continued participation' mean? Why the hell could he not stop thinking about Draco?
He tossed and turned and watched the moonlight change the shadows in his room. He couldn't hear much through the stone walls, but he tried to imagine Draco at his new life, orchestrating vampires to help ensure their survival. His thoughts turned to Pansy, her life already over. And then he thought about himself, fumbling away at his existence, confused and twisted at every step.
He slipped out of bed several hours later and wound his way through the castle to the conservatory once more. He'd considered trying to find Draco, but he concluded that he didn't really want to risk a possible altercation with curious vampires-that's what Draco had called them-in his search. The conservatory doors opened up onto a wide landing with a spectacular view of the property, and he sat down with his back against the stone walls. The sun was just starting to rise in the east, a low light on the horizon.
"I was with him, you know. That night he died."
Harry started; Pansy was suddenly sitting next to him, arms around her knees. She looked at him and smiled, her expression genuinely warm.
"What happened?"
Pansy laughed. "You have absolutely no sense of tact, do you?"
"Sorry," Harry said. "The art of small talk is just one of a hundred things I never learned."
She floated around to crouch in front of him, and he could almost feel her cool fingers brush up under his chin. He looked up, and in the gathering light, he could clearly see the gaping bite mark in her neck where the green ribbon didn't quite cover.
"Draco's father was getting sloppy, becoming a liability. And the Dark Lord… well. He decided to give him an incentive to do better."
"By killing you both?"
"The vampires weren't supposed to kill Draco, and I wasn't supposed to be there. But they got hungry, and I was expendable. Draco tried to stop them." She gave a little laugh. "He's braver than anyone gives him credit for."
Harry rubbed his arms. A chill had settled onto his neck and shoulders.
"And then what happened?"
"Draco was mortally wounded. The vampires were afraid of the Dark Lord and what he would do to them if Draco died. So they turned him."
Harry shook his head. "They're already dead; what more did they have to fear?"
"There are many worse things than death."
Harry had heard that before, once.
He waved his hand, his fingertips tracing the surface of Pansy's translucent skin. "So you've stayed for Draco?"
"In part. But mostly, I want to make sure that son of a bitch gets what he deserves."
"And what's that?"
"A fate worse than death."
"Draco said that living was worse than dying."
"Did he?" she said. "One or the other's not so bad, really. What's worst is feeling like you're stuck in between."
Pansy stayed with him through sunrise, and then melted away back into the castle. When Harry heard Draco's voice and his footsteps inside the conservatory, the idea that Draco really shouldn't be standing outside while the sun rose didn't fully crystallize until Draco was standing in the small shadow provided by the parapet.
"What are you doing?" Harry said, alarmed. "You're going to burn."
"Mm." Draco looked remarkably unruffled. "I'm not enhancing my longevity by any means, but I'm not about to combust."
"What are you doing out here?"
"I came to see how you were. Enjoying the view, I mean." Draco moved as close as he could to Harry without coming into direct contact with the sunlight. "I take it you didn't sleep well. Was it the Dark Lord again?"
Harry laughed a bit. The morning air was beginning to change as the sun climbed higher in the sky; the wind that swirled his robes around his ankles was warmer now and less intense. "Not Voldemort. You, actually."
"Really. And how did I do that?"
Harry leaned his head into his hand and turned to look at Draco. "I keep thinking about you. And what I want."
"And?"
"And the two have coincided."
"Have they?"
"Yeah. They have. I thought I should tell you," he said. "I feel something. And whether it has anything to do with the bite, I still don't know. But I do know that I'd rather take the chance of it being real." He tilted his head. "You knew that already, didn't you?"
"I can't read your mind, Harry. But your body gives me signals I can decipher, for example, flushed skin, dilated pupils, and increased breathing and heart rate."
"And what does that tell you about me?"
"That you're either extremely pissed off or incredibly aroused." Draco smiled lightly, not breaking eye-contact.
Under Draco's unrelenting gaze, Harry could suddenly feel in exquisite detail the way his shirt clung to his shoulders and the way the air moved softly across the back of his neck. The sun was deliciously warm against his skin. He swallowed once, with difficulty, and noticed Draco's gaze drop to watch his throat.
"A little of both," he decided upon, pleased to note that at least he still sounded like he was in control.
"So." Draco let his gaze linger all the way down and back up Harry's body. "What would you like to do about it?"
"I want," Harry began, and didn't know how to finish that sentence.
He didn't know when he'd become so self-conscious, so wary. He remembered when he'd act without thinking and deal with the consequences later. But terrible things had happened because of that. Sirius had died. So had Snape. It had been around that time that he'd learned to be quiet. It was just easier that way. It was easier to accept that other people's ideas were more significant than his own. To staunch his natural curiosity and propensity to ask too many questions and get involved in things which were off-limits to him. And to allow himself to be put into positions where he was merely a puppet, existing only to be manipulated by others, no matter how good their intentions.
Guilty of his own inaction, Harry hadn't lost his voice. He'd let it be taken away.
He looked at Draco, who was still waiting for his answer, still just inside the shadow of the parapet. Harry knew that he was going to have to make the next move, whatever that was. Whatever he wanted it to be.
He took a deep breath and stood up.
The first step was the hardest. All of his misgivings rose to the surface but he managed to hold on for one step, and then another. He paused on the threshold, just outside the arc of light that separated them.
He lifted his gaze, and watched Draco watching him. It was too bright in the sunlight, too hard to see anything without squinting. But he could count Draco's eyelashes from here, could see the flecks of hazel in his grey eyes. He reached out a hand-tentatively, because he hadn't thought this through at all-and brushed Draco's hand. Lightly, like it could be brushed off or laughed off as an error or a nervous twitch. Except he didn't need to, because his entire body was moving forward, into the shade where he needed to pause and blink and let his eyes adjust so he could see more clearly.
He snagged Draco's fingers with his own, holding on, waiting out the endless second it took for Draco to reciprocate the grip.
Draco looked down at their twined hands. "Is this what you want? Even though-"
"Even though," Harry said. "Yes."
###
Because his enhanced senses gave him a prescience that allowed him to anticipate many things, Draco wasn't surprised by much anymore. But Harry's mouth suddenly on his and the rush of physiological reactions-Harry's heart racing, his body being flooded by adrenaline-caught him off guard.
He gasped into Harry's mouth, slowly registering the pliancy and warm wetness of Harry's lips. He returned the kiss, turning them so Harry's back was pressed up against the stone wall. He pulled back abruptly and tugged Harry back inside the conservatory, stumbling into the middle of the room. Once again, they kissed: inexpertly, vacillating between bouts of shyness and audacity.
Draco wrapped an arm around Harry's back and slowly began coaxing the tail of Harry's shirt up his spine. All that flushed, hidden skin. Draco coveted every inch he could touch, using both hands to reach up and explore. When Draco used the barest hint of fingernails, Harry broke the kiss with a gasp.
Draco smiled at him. He began to unbutton that shirt, starting with the topmost button, and Harry watched him with luminous eyes.
But when Draco leaned up against him to lick the newly revealed skin at Harry's neck, Harry went rigid. His hands flew up between them-too much, too fast-and Draco pulled away. Quicker than Draco thought was possible, Harry captured his wrists, one in each hand. For a moment, he couldn't read Harry at all.
"I didn't mean it like that," Draco said. "I don't think of you like that. Please." He swallowed, suddenly inarticulate and ineloquent.
Harry began caressing Draco's wrists with his thumbs, and a slow shiver crawled up Draco's back.
"I know." Harry took a few steadying breaths before placing one of Draco's hands against his chest and letting go. "Just… slowly."
Slowly, then.
Draco took his time with the remainder of the buttons, purposefully and calmly. There was so much at stake here, this fragile bridge between them. He pushed up one sleeve, revealing Harry's inner forearm. With a quick lick, a kiss and a slide of knuckles, he could feel the goosebumps prickling Harry's body as if those reactions were his own. Harry didn't flinch away when Draco broadened the scope of his explorations back up to his throat. And as much as Draco wanted to bite down, to feel the resistance of skin under his teeth, he contented himself with just a taste: a slow, long, salty lick from collarbone to jawline. The fat artery quivered under Draco's tongue, and he keened at the implicit trust in that small allowance.
Harry reached for him and he slowly ran his fingers up and down the side of Draco's face. Draco allowed his face to be tilted, his chin lifted; he knew that in this light, Harry could plainly see the thick white scars that wound across his throat. His eyes closed as Harry pressed a thumb lightly against the apex of his throat where his pulse point should have been.
"Does it disgust you?" he said, slowly opening his eyes.
"Everyone has scars."
"I was referring to my lack of cardiac function," Draco said, his laugh sounding forced.
"Like you said before: it's just a physiological change."
"It's a little more than that."
"Fine, it is. But to answer your question: no. It doesn't disgust me."
"Why not?"
Harry trailed his fingers across Draco's collarbone. "Because you are who you are."
###
Harry rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously as he walked up to the ticket booth, overnight bag slung over his shoulder. He just knew he had red marks there that everyone could see, despite the fact that the train station was deserted this early in the morning. His constant state of blushing, which had begun when he'd said a rather lengthy and thorough goodbye to Draco and activated the nauseating portkey that had brought him to Hogsmeade, wasn't helping things either.
He'd never been spoken to or kissed or clutched quite like that before, and his body and mind were still reeling.
After buying his ticket, during which the ticket seller stared obviously at Harry's neck, Harry headed to the train station to wait for the train.
"Harry!"
He jumped at the sound of his name and stared at Rafael striding across the platform towards him.
"It isn't safe," Rafael said, taking his arm and started leading him towards a sheltered area just outside the station.
"What are you doing here?" Harry said. Something pricked the skin at the small of his back and he winced, rubbing away the pain.
"Looking for you, obviously. You left no information as to your whereabouts; do you know how careless that was?"
"I was visiting a friend!"
"You mean Draco Malfoy."
"So what if I was visiting him? Why are you-"
Harry felt another sting of pain, this time right between his eyes, and suddenly, Harry realized that he recognized the magic.
It was Rafael's Legilimency. Like needles…
Immediately, Harry threw up a mental block and whipped out his wand. Pain filled his head and he stumbled backwards, unable to articulate a spell.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm trying to help you, Harry, but you don't see that. You're being manipulated. You've been manipulated from the beginning."
Rafael pressed harder and Harry staggered under the weight of the assault. He strained to keep his feet, keep his mind clear, keep his aim true. But there were fingers inside his head, turning pages without his consent. He saw Draco's face in shadows and candlelight, felt the blindfold drop from his eyes. He saw Draco kissing him, touching his arm, stroking his face. He saw Draco lifting his wrist to his mouth and biting down, hard.
"Why do you care so much about Draco?" he shouted, hoping that someone would hear him.
"Because he has something we need," Rafael said. "Something you gave him."
Harry could feel his strength buckling. With one last effort, he screamed, "Legilimens!"
Suddenly, he was there in Rafael's mind, and he could see a heavy door with a lock. With what Rafael had taught him about weaknesses being guarded closely, Harry leaned his weight against it and pushed. It swung open.
Shadows moved against the walls.
A heart beat, reverberated in his ears.
The crackle of parchment and scratch of a quill.
A contract signed in blood.
Harry staggered back into his own mind, choking and crashing to the floor. Gasping, he looked up to find Rafael standing over him, the somber expression on his face in direct contrast with the wand pointed at Harry's chest.
"You shouldn't have done that," he said. "You have no idea what you're forcing me to do. I'm so sorry. Stupefy."
###
A white owl was tapping at his window. Draco considered ignoring it and rolled over. But the tapping continued relentlessly and Draco groaned. Even though the entire castle had been spelled to repel the light, he was still sluggish and cranky from being woken up in the middle of the day.
His windows were west-facing and the sun had yet to reach his side. Even so, it was only because he recognized the owl as Harry's that he pushed the window open to let her through.
She hopped through onto the ledge, cooing softly.
"Hello, Hedwig," he said, petting her head and ruffling her feathers which carried smells from the outside world: pollen and blossoms and the faintest scent of Harry.
Harry hadn't stayed very long, citing responsibilities and obligations, but with a reluctance that had made Draco's skin tingle.
He unwrapped the letter from the owl's leg, yawning.
Malfoy-
Draco startled. This was not Harry's writing and not Harry's greeting.
Harry was supposed to arrive yesterday but-
Draco was gone before the parchment even hit the floor.
###
Tied to a chair with his arms pinned tightly against his body, Harry had no idea where he was or how much time had passed. He was in a cabin, maybe, or a cottage. It was dark and his head was pounding. The only light came from the fireplace gently glowing, and Rafael was crouched in front of it, using the Floo.
"Master," he said, and Harry's skin crawled. "I have the boy."
"This was not part of the plan."
Harry didn't recognize the other voice. It was raspy and low and dark; perhaps Voldemort had taken another form?
"I apologize, Master. But he saw, and I had to act. I didn't know what else to do."
Harry frowned. Why would Voldemort be disappointed that Harry had been captured?
"This complicates things, Rafael. They will not be as easily swayed to our cause now. You have failed me."
"I know. I'm sorry."
There was a long sigh from the other end of the fireplace. "Very well. What has been done cannot be undone. We must make the best of it."
Rafael bowed his head. He turned back to Harry as the fireplace burned out. Harry struggled reflexively but the bindings were too expertly knotted. He had no hope of freeing himself.
"I hate you," Harry spat, but he might as well have been speaking to himself. He'd been betrayed once again, blinded by the possibility of friendship. It was like a sick joke that someone kept perpetrating upon him.
"I understand. It will be over shortly, I promise."
The fireplace suddenly flared to life and Harry flinched. Out of the dust and ashes stepped an imposing figure in a dark hooded cloak.
"Harry Potter," Rafael said, sounding terribly formal. He stepped deferentially aside. "May I present my master: Aloysius Von Redding."
Harry's mind spun. It wasn't Voldemort, he realized, as Von Redding removed his hood. He had dark, deep set eyes and Harry shivered as his gaze was caught. He'd felt that preternatural chill before, but only with Draco-
"You're a vampire," he blurted out. "What… what do you want from me?"
"We do not wish to harm you, Mr. Potter. But we require your blood."
"You know who else wanted my blood? Voldemort. And he sure as hell wanted to hurt me."
"We aren't loyal to the Dark One, Harry," Rafael said.
"You have a funny way of showing it."
"Enough!" Von Redding said. He advanced slowly on Harry, who again pulled at the ropes in vain. "Unlike your Mr. Malfoy, I am no wizard. None of my vampires are. We do not have the benefits or advantages that wizards possess. I require your blood to ensure our survival. We are human-born vampires but dark creatures all the same. We are untrustworthy, even evil, according to some. These qualities do not lend themselves well to open discussions and handshake agreements. Had we approached you, we would have been killed on sight or remained eternally under suspicion: is this not true?"
Harry shook his head. "I don't know. You never gave me the chance."
"It matters not. We are offering you our loyalty, Mr. Potter. And by offering us your blood in return, you will have a binding contract."
"No," Harry said.
"Harry, be reasonable…" Rafael took a step forward from the corner.
"No! I will not be reasonable. You were my friend, and now you're betraying me. How dare you speak to me about helping you?" He glared hard at Von Redding, throwing caution to the wind by staring directly into his eyes. "I will never consent to this."
Von Redding paused. "If you wish, Mr. Potter. However, consider this: thanks to Rafael's considerable research over the past months, I now have access to quite the treasure trove of information about you."
Harry stared at Rafael.
"Indeed," Von Redding continued. "Rafael knows your innermost secrets and desires. He knows your deepest fears. He knows your fondness for certain individuals, both familial and… otherwise. He also has access to these individuals. Surely you wouldn't want this information finding its way to the Dark One."
Harry shook his head. "You wouldn't. You wouldn't."
"He is loyal to me," Von Redding said sharply. He reached out and ran his thumbs down the side of Harry's neck.
"Master, is there no other way?" Rafael said.
"The alternatives are survival or death," Von Redding said. "Consent, Mr. Potter." He dug his fingers, applying pressure, and Harry again fought to escape.
But what choice did he have? He thought of Draco, dying in his attempt to save Pansy and now fighting for the right to be, to exist, to live. He thought of Hermione and Ron, who'd put their futures on hold to stay with him at Hogwarts so he wouldn't be alone. Between his own life, and the lives of his friends, there was no choice.
"Do it."
"Wait," Rafael said, but Von Redding was already moving, already had a hand in Harry's hair. He bent Harry's neck to the side. Harry fought with himself not to struggle.
The blast of light from Rafael's wand was blinding. Harry heard the command "Stupefy!" almost as an afterthought to the recoil of the spell hurtling through Von Redding's body. With a growl of rage, Von Redding turned on Rafael, who fired another spell directly at his chest. Stunned, Von Redding collapsed to the floor.
Rafael untied Harry with shaking hands.
"I'm sorry," he said. "Please believe me."
Harry stood up as soon as he was able and put his back to the wall. "Give me my wand. Right now."
Rafael held out Harry's wand and Harry snatched it away. Immediately, he pointed it at Rafael, who, with a quiet breath, set his own wand down.
All the rage Harry felt, all the helplessness he'd been forced to endure, all the pain of betrayal came surging to the forefront, and a hundred curses rushed to Harry's mind. He could barely hear anything over the sound of his harsh breathing. He was terrified and angry and sick and hurt, and he couldn't help thinking that he deserved to exact some retribution.
He took a deep breath.
"Why did you help me?"
"I know you don't believe me, but I never meant for this to happen. We were in dire straits, and my master… he needed my help."
"You betrayed him by helping me," Harry said, suddenly realizing what had really happened here. "How… how is that possible? The After-Bite Effect…"
"…may or may not be pure fiction," Rafael said. "But I knew this was wrong. I only wish I had had the self-fortitude to act sooner."
And then, all Harry could see was another human being, torn in a hundred different directions by forces he couldn't control. Harry knew how that felt, how terrible and painful it was to live life like that every single day.
He sighed. "When my friends come looking for me," he said carefully, "tell them… tell them thank you."
He didn't wait to see the ropes finish twisting around both Rafael and Von Redding's bodies; immediately after casting the binding spell, Harry Apparated away.
***
"Harry. Stop."
Harry didn't answer. Since arriving back at Hogwarts, he had broken in to Dumbldore's office focused on a single task: destroying the contract. He had expected more resistance, but the box that the contract had been sealed inside gave way easily to an 'Alohamora'. Now he understood why: after firing spell after spell at the contract-first a burning spell, then a blasting spell, then a shredding spell-the parchment either repelled or absorbed the magic and remained entirely unscathed. Frustrated, Harry threw his wand aside. He seized the contract in both hands and tried to rip it apart, but again to no avail.
"Harry," Dumbledore repeated, stepping into view. "Stop. You'll only exhaust yourself. You cannot break the contract."
Harry glared up at him. "Do you know why Rafael was really here? Because his master had heard that the Order was brokering deals with other vampire factions and wanted to know the price for their loyalty. I understand that we need allies. But our potential allies have been reduced to sneaking around behind our backs. How, exactly, does that inspire loyalty?"
"A contract would guarantee loyalty."
"Fear and dependency, yes. Not loyalty." Harry took a deep breath. "Professor, you told me once that life is made out of our choices. Well, I'm choosing to have a say in what happens to me. I want in on decisions that affect me. No more closed doors. As well, I want out of this contract. You said I couldn't break it. Why not?"
"You do not have the power, Harry. Even if I were to agree, one party alone cannot dissolve it."
Harry looked down at the two names on the contract.
Albus Dumbledore.
Draco Malfoy.
###
As angry as Draco was at Harry for not staying behind at Rafael's cottage and making him worry and therefore making both Weasley and Granger stare at him strangely, he couldn't really blame him. All the attention that would have been lavished upon him didn't seem like something Harry would have enjoyed, despite all of Draco's initial beliefs to the contrary.
So he broke away from their hastily forged rescue team and followed Harry's Apparition trail all the way back to Hogsmeade. On the ground, he found a discarded ticket stub with Harry's scent on it and took the train back to Hogwarts. Once there, Draco cast his senses out, searching.
The evening was warm and filled with the delicate sounds of night: rustling leaves, murmuring water, the low whirr and click of insects. Draco allowed his hearing to stretch out, and he could hear the staircases shifting inside Hogwarts and Mrs. Norris's paws on the carpeted halls. He reined his senses back in to listen for Harry's heartbeat and breathed a sigh of relief when he found it. He followed the sound of Harry's pacing footsteps all the way to the courtyard with the pebbled path and the fountain.
For a long moment, he just watched. Harry paced the circumference of the fountain over and over again, first in one direction and then the other. He was fighting an internal battle, and the expression on his face was heart-wrenching.
"Harry," he said quietly. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," Harry said, looking up abruptly, looking anything but fine. His face was pale and there were scratches on his neck. He laughed suddenly. "Want to hear something funny? Dumbledore wants me to talk to Rafael."
"You must be joking."
Harry shook his head. "He said I was perfectly within my right to feel outraged and violated about what happened. But he also said I should see if they're being sincere in their desire to join us. We could use their help."
"And what are you going to do?"
"Feel outraged and violated. And then? We'll see."
Harry heaved a great sigh. It was only now that Draco noticed Harry was holding their contract, the one with his own signature and seal, which Harry was rubbing absentmindedly with his thumb.
"How did you get that?" Draco said. "I thought it was locked in Dumbledore's office."
"It was," Harry said, turning the contract over and over in his hands. "I broke in and stole it but Dumbledore caught me."
"And?"
"He said I could do with it what I wanted. Anything at all."
"What do you want?"
Harry looked up and shook his head. "It's not as simple as asking me what I want. It's not just my life wrapped up in this piece of parchment. It's your life too, and Max's, and everyone else's, and you're all depending on me to-"
"Harry." Draco took hold of Harry's wrist, the hand that was holding the contract. Now, along with Harry's thundering pulse, Draco could feel that Harry was shaking, could hear the minute vibrations of the parchment. "If it could be that simple, what would you want?"
Harry flinched, like the mere thought of asking for what he needed was too much to bear. But he gathered himself and looked down at the contract. "I want you to be here, Draco. But not because of this."
Their eyes met, but this time it was Draco who felt like he was being pulled in.
"I want that, too."
"Are you sure?"
"If you're asking if I'm certain about your sincerity in helping us having a place in a world without the Dark Lord, then yes, I am. And if you're asking if I'm certain about the two of us, then yes, I am. And I don't need a contract for either of those things."
"Oh," Harry said. He sounded a bit awed, and Draco knew just how he felt.
A faint rustling caught both their attention at the same time. And as they both watched, the contract in Harry's hand shimmered and disintegrated into ash before vanishing into the wind.
The End.
Author: ZS
Rating: R, slash
Disclaimer: HP & its characters are not mine, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Words: ~15,600
Summary: A follow-up to Obligations.
Notes: Special thanks to dacro and millefiori who inspired me to start writing this story; extra special thanks to luzmaria8, who inspired me to keep writing.
Draco opened the door to his study. Being away for three days meant three day's worth of catching up to do, and Draco was exhausted. There was a stack of owls waiting for his reply on his desk and just as many that he needed to write. Organizing vampires was a more tedious task than he had originally envisioned; apparently, his new preternatural abilities did not include creating more hours in a night.
His hand was cramping and the candles were guttering when he felt a ripple of magic from his neck to the base of his spine. He broadened his senses to include the surroundings of the castle, and he distinctly heard a disgruntled Harry Potter cursing portkey technology and vowing to lop off the inventor's head, should he ever get the chance.
The pebble portkey he'd given Harry was designed to deposit him in a safe location just outside the castle grounds; like Hogwarts, this castle was designed to appear as ruins to the general uninformed public. The drop zone was surrounded by containment spells-a precaution for unsuspecting or unfriendly persons who might accidentally activate the portkey spell-and Harry would need someone to let him out. Unable to suppress a smile, Draco went to meet him.
###
The portkey inventor, Harry decided, spitting still more grass out of his mouth from his undignified face-plant in the clover upon arriving, needed to be hexed. He was managing to work himself into a huff; the spells he was casting at the surrounding wards were working, but frustratingly slowly.
It was only when Draco appeared, a wide cat-smile on his face, that he finally felt like he'd managed to leave Hogwarts, however temporarily, behind.
***
"What did you tell them?" Draco said, leading Harry into the castle. The castle's exterior had been impressive: old stones and moss and spires that seemed to stretch up forever. The interior was just as opulent as he remembered, with paintings and lush carpeting and fresh-cut flowers.
"That I needed to take a break. That I was feeling burned out."
"Did you make a scene?" Draco's eyes lit up in anticipation of Harry's answer, and Harry laughed.
"Depends on your definition, I guess. I... hope you don't mind that I came unannounced."
"I'm surprised, but not unpleasantly so. Are you hungry?"
"I, err-"
Harry looked over to where Max was just leaving the foyer out of politeness' sake. Draco gave an amused snort. "I meant for you. Besides, we do have regular food in the castle. Max and the others do eat, you know."
Harry ran a hand through his hair. He was feeling ruffled and out of his element again, but the difference between this and Hogwarts was that he didn't feel the same sense of impending doom.
"Not just yet."
"Okay. Come on, then."
"Where are we going?"
Harry hurried to catch up with Draco, who was striding down one of the corridors.
"I thought I'd show you around. You had a rather limited tour the last time you were here. What's wrong?"
Harry shook his head. "Nothing. I guess I thought you'd have things to do."
"Well, I do, in fact."
"Oh."
"But with you here, my priorities have shifted."
"Why?"
"Because this is much more pleasant. Do you know how complicated the tax forms are for a castle dwelling?"
"You're doing your taxes? Err. Don't you have people to do that for you?"
"I'm a vampire, Harry, not the Queen of England. Anyway, if you were thinking of turning into a vampire to avoid paying taxes? Not a smart financial move. I can't even deduct the cost of the sunlight resistant windows as medical expenses."
Draco had a grin on his face as he stepped through the archway into a larger series of rooms; Harry had to run to catch up after he'd finished gaping. Draco had a sense of humour. Who knew?
###
The tour started with a walk through the gardens. Harry remembered the names of the various plants that Draco had mentioned on his previous visit, and while they didn't linger too long on the spot where Draco had bitten him, they still managed to exchange a significant look which quickly turned more intense than either of them had really intended. Next, they moved through the gallery of oil paintings and then one of a dozen formal dining areas. Draco was certain that Harry was bored out of his mind, but they kept talking throughout, mostly about inconsequential things. Draco was vaguely concerned that they were running out of inconsequential things to talk about, and afterwards, they would have to actually have a discussion with significance, which he both anticipated and dreaded.
The tour ended with a visit to the Aviary. Harry was immediately enthralled by the sheer variety of birds; the falcons, especially, seemed to be intrigued by him in return, hopping closer to have a better look. Draco watched Harry smile as one of the more fearsome looking falcons tamely accepted a crust of bread from Harry's fingers.
"You can't hide here forever, you know," Draco said, finally broaching the topic that both of them had been quite happy to avoid. He watched Harry's shoulders stiffen at his insinuation, and the shadow that crossed his face.
"I'm taking a break," Harry said carefully. "I told you earlier."
"Indeed you did. But things have a way of getting away from you, whether you choose for that to happen or not. Is it an issue with your new Defense instructor... what was his name...?"
"There's nothing wrong with Rafael. He's a better teacher than Snape ever was." Harry's gaze flickered; he must have noticed how that comment had affected Draco despite how hard he tried not to react. "He asks me about you all the time."
Harry quietly called the falcon a 'pretty bird' and pet its head without having his fingers nipped.
"I would think that you have more pressing matters to discuss during these sessions than me."
Harry shook his head. "He tells me that he's drawn to those images because I'm denying something about them. Like a signal fire or something; he can't help but look."
"Interesting."
Harry looked up suddenly. "I didn't mean... hell." More quietly, he said, "I didn't mean to say that at all."
"Think nothing of it."
Harry narrowed his eyes. "You always seem to know exactly what to say. Of course, that's probably why you're allowed to sit in on those meetings and why I'm locked out."
"Believe me, nothing of consequence was discussed at those meetings which you were excluded from. They were merely trying to ascertain my readiness to commit to the contract. No trade secrets were shared."
"Why didn't you tell me that when I asked you?"
"Like I told you at the time: I didn't think I should have been the one to tell you at all. You did ask, didn't you?"
"I did."
"And?"
"And I was told that I didn't need to know certain things. That it was better if I concentrated my efforts on honing my skills. To be a killing machine; that's what they want, you know. Remus told me I was supposed to be the arrow."
"Ahh. And someone else is pulling the string. Or strings, if you will." At Harry's raised eyebrow, Draco laughed. "Whenever I need to impress someone with my speech, I always think of my father. It helps the right words come to mind."
"I wish I knew what to say to them."
"You did negotiate yourself some time off."
"Two days. They wanted to send an escort, for god's sake." Harry sighed, and the falcon squawked and flapped out of range. Harry tossed the remainder of the bread onto the floor where it was devoured by the other birds in a matter of seconds. "I'm not a child. I don't need a keeper. I need-"
Harry didn't finish his sentence, and Draco didn't push.
###
As the night wore on, they retreated to the conservatory. Max appeared in the doorway; Draco had summoned him somehow, though Harry hadn't seen the mechanism. They conferred quietly, before Draco turned back to Harry and Max left the room.
"I've asked Max to have the house elves prepare a room for you. He'll bring you the key when it's ready and stay with you till you're ready to retire for the night."
"And you…"
"I'll be attending to those things which I deferred when you arrived. And before you get all ruffled thinking that I'm assigning you a babysitter, it's called being a good host, all right?"
Harry held up his hands. "All right."
Draco nodded and gathered up the parchments on the table. He cast a quick look back over his shoulder.
"Go on," Harry said. "I'll be fine."
"I wasn't checking up on you. I was just… seeing if I had left my quill somewhere."
"It's in your hand," Harry said, with a quiet smile.
"Oh. Good. I'll catch up with you in a few hours, then."
Harry nodded, and Draco left.
***
Harry wasn't alone for very long. It was just long enough for him to contemplate why he'd chosen to come here, of all places, and wonder whether it had to do with the After-Bite Effect or all the stress he'd been under. When Max came to give him the key to his room, Harry had already started to yawn constantly, and he decided to try to get some rest.
"Can I ask you something?" he said, as Max led him to his room. "You've heard of the After-Bite Effect?"
"Of course," Max replied, so casually that Harry was momentarily stunned.
"So… you think it's real."
"Of course it's real. Why else would we donors stay? It's part of the job."
"And you just accept it?"
"It's either that or go crazy." Max paused in front of a large, ornate door and unlocked it, pushing it open.
"Does it ever bother you?"
"Sometimes. But I'm not the one with feelings for him, am I?" Max gave him an encouraging smile. "If you need anything, use the intra-castle Floo. Goodnight, Harry."
***
Harry tried his best to sleep. He'd thought that being away from Hogwarts would lessen his tendency to have nightmares, but his body wouldn't even give him the chance to have a thorough night's sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind was besieged with an endless slew of thoughts. How was he supposed to know which feelings were authentically his, if any? What exactly did 'encouraging our partner's continued participation' mean? Why the hell could he not stop thinking about Draco?
He tossed and turned and watched the moonlight change the shadows in his room. He couldn't hear much through the stone walls, but he tried to imagine Draco at his new life, orchestrating vampires to help ensure their survival. His thoughts turned to Pansy, her life already over. And then he thought about himself, fumbling away at his existence, confused and twisted at every step.
He slipped out of bed several hours later and wound his way through the castle to the conservatory once more. He'd considered trying to find Draco, but he concluded that he didn't really want to risk a possible altercation with curious vampires-that's what Draco had called them-in his search. The conservatory doors opened up onto a wide landing with a spectacular view of the property, and he sat down with his back against the stone walls. The sun was just starting to rise in the east, a low light on the horizon.
"I was with him, you know. That night he died."
Harry started; Pansy was suddenly sitting next to him, arms around her knees. She looked at him and smiled, her expression genuinely warm.
"What happened?"
Pansy laughed. "You have absolutely no sense of tact, do you?"
"Sorry," Harry said. "The art of small talk is just one of a hundred things I never learned."
She floated around to crouch in front of him, and he could almost feel her cool fingers brush up under his chin. He looked up, and in the gathering light, he could clearly see the gaping bite mark in her neck where the green ribbon didn't quite cover.
"Draco's father was getting sloppy, becoming a liability. And the Dark Lord… well. He decided to give him an incentive to do better."
"By killing you both?"
"The vampires weren't supposed to kill Draco, and I wasn't supposed to be there. But they got hungry, and I was expendable. Draco tried to stop them." She gave a little laugh. "He's braver than anyone gives him credit for."
Harry rubbed his arms. A chill had settled onto his neck and shoulders.
"And then what happened?"
"Draco was mortally wounded. The vampires were afraid of the Dark Lord and what he would do to them if Draco died. So they turned him."
Harry shook his head. "They're already dead; what more did they have to fear?"
"There are many worse things than death."
Harry had heard that before, once.
He waved his hand, his fingertips tracing the surface of Pansy's translucent skin. "So you've stayed for Draco?"
"In part. But mostly, I want to make sure that son of a bitch gets what he deserves."
"And what's that?"
"A fate worse than death."
"Draco said that living was worse than dying."
"Did he?" she said. "One or the other's not so bad, really. What's worst is feeling like you're stuck in between."
Pansy stayed with him through sunrise, and then melted away back into the castle. When Harry heard Draco's voice and his footsteps inside the conservatory, the idea that Draco really shouldn't be standing outside while the sun rose didn't fully crystallize until Draco was standing in the small shadow provided by the parapet.
"What are you doing?" Harry said, alarmed. "You're going to burn."
"Mm." Draco looked remarkably unruffled. "I'm not enhancing my longevity by any means, but I'm not about to combust."
"What are you doing out here?"
"I came to see how you were. Enjoying the view, I mean." Draco moved as close as he could to Harry without coming into direct contact with the sunlight. "I take it you didn't sleep well. Was it the Dark Lord again?"
Harry laughed a bit. The morning air was beginning to change as the sun climbed higher in the sky; the wind that swirled his robes around his ankles was warmer now and less intense. "Not Voldemort. You, actually."
"Really. And how did I do that?"
Harry leaned his head into his hand and turned to look at Draco. "I keep thinking about you. And what I want."
"And?"
"And the two have coincided."
"Have they?"
"Yeah. They have. I thought I should tell you," he said. "I feel something. And whether it has anything to do with the bite, I still don't know. But I do know that I'd rather take the chance of it being real." He tilted his head. "You knew that already, didn't you?"
"I can't read your mind, Harry. But your body gives me signals I can decipher, for example, flushed skin, dilated pupils, and increased breathing and heart rate."
"And what does that tell you about me?"
"That you're either extremely pissed off or incredibly aroused." Draco smiled lightly, not breaking eye-contact.
Under Draco's unrelenting gaze, Harry could suddenly feel in exquisite detail the way his shirt clung to his shoulders and the way the air moved softly across the back of his neck. The sun was deliciously warm against his skin. He swallowed once, with difficulty, and noticed Draco's gaze drop to watch his throat.
"A little of both," he decided upon, pleased to note that at least he still sounded like he was in control.
"So." Draco let his gaze linger all the way down and back up Harry's body. "What would you like to do about it?"
"I want," Harry began, and didn't know how to finish that sentence.
He didn't know when he'd become so self-conscious, so wary. He remembered when he'd act without thinking and deal with the consequences later. But terrible things had happened because of that. Sirius had died. So had Snape. It had been around that time that he'd learned to be quiet. It was just easier that way. It was easier to accept that other people's ideas were more significant than his own. To staunch his natural curiosity and propensity to ask too many questions and get involved in things which were off-limits to him. And to allow himself to be put into positions where he was merely a puppet, existing only to be manipulated by others, no matter how good their intentions.
Guilty of his own inaction, Harry hadn't lost his voice. He'd let it be taken away.
He looked at Draco, who was still waiting for his answer, still just inside the shadow of the parapet. Harry knew that he was going to have to make the next move, whatever that was. Whatever he wanted it to be.
He took a deep breath and stood up.
The first step was the hardest. All of his misgivings rose to the surface but he managed to hold on for one step, and then another. He paused on the threshold, just outside the arc of light that separated them.
He lifted his gaze, and watched Draco watching him. It was too bright in the sunlight, too hard to see anything without squinting. But he could count Draco's eyelashes from here, could see the flecks of hazel in his grey eyes. He reached out a hand-tentatively, because he hadn't thought this through at all-and brushed Draco's hand. Lightly, like it could be brushed off or laughed off as an error or a nervous twitch. Except he didn't need to, because his entire body was moving forward, into the shade where he needed to pause and blink and let his eyes adjust so he could see more clearly.
He snagged Draco's fingers with his own, holding on, waiting out the endless second it took for Draco to reciprocate the grip.
Draco looked down at their twined hands. "Is this what you want? Even though-"
"Even though," Harry said. "Yes."
###
Because his enhanced senses gave him a prescience that allowed him to anticipate many things, Draco wasn't surprised by much anymore. But Harry's mouth suddenly on his and the rush of physiological reactions-Harry's heart racing, his body being flooded by adrenaline-caught him off guard.
He gasped into Harry's mouth, slowly registering the pliancy and warm wetness of Harry's lips. He returned the kiss, turning them so Harry's back was pressed up against the stone wall. He pulled back abruptly and tugged Harry back inside the conservatory, stumbling into the middle of the room. Once again, they kissed: inexpertly, vacillating between bouts of shyness and audacity.
Draco wrapped an arm around Harry's back and slowly began coaxing the tail of Harry's shirt up his spine. All that flushed, hidden skin. Draco coveted every inch he could touch, using both hands to reach up and explore. When Draco used the barest hint of fingernails, Harry broke the kiss with a gasp.
Draco smiled at him. He began to unbutton that shirt, starting with the topmost button, and Harry watched him with luminous eyes.
But when Draco leaned up against him to lick the newly revealed skin at Harry's neck, Harry went rigid. His hands flew up between them-too much, too fast-and Draco pulled away. Quicker than Draco thought was possible, Harry captured his wrists, one in each hand. For a moment, he couldn't read Harry at all.
"I didn't mean it like that," Draco said. "I don't think of you like that. Please." He swallowed, suddenly inarticulate and ineloquent.
Harry began caressing Draco's wrists with his thumbs, and a slow shiver crawled up Draco's back.
"I know." Harry took a few steadying breaths before placing one of Draco's hands against his chest and letting go. "Just… slowly."
Slowly, then.
Draco took his time with the remainder of the buttons, purposefully and calmly. There was so much at stake here, this fragile bridge between them. He pushed up one sleeve, revealing Harry's inner forearm. With a quick lick, a kiss and a slide of knuckles, he could feel the goosebumps prickling Harry's body as if those reactions were his own. Harry didn't flinch away when Draco broadened the scope of his explorations back up to his throat. And as much as Draco wanted to bite down, to feel the resistance of skin under his teeth, he contented himself with just a taste: a slow, long, salty lick from collarbone to jawline. The fat artery quivered under Draco's tongue, and he keened at the implicit trust in that small allowance.
Harry reached for him and he slowly ran his fingers up and down the side of Draco's face. Draco allowed his face to be tilted, his chin lifted; he knew that in this light, Harry could plainly see the thick white scars that wound across his throat. His eyes closed as Harry pressed a thumb lightly against the apex of his throat where his pulse point should have been.
"Does it disgust you?" he said, slowly opening his eyes.
"Everyone has scars."
"I was referring to my lack of cardiac function," Draco said, his laugh sounding forced.
"Like you said before: it's just a physiological change."
"It's a little more than that."
"Fine, it is. But to answer your question: no. It doesn't disgust me."
"Why not?"
Harry trailed his fingers across Draco's collarbone. "Because you are who you are."
###
Harry rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously as he walked up to the ticket booth, overnight bag slung over his shoulder. He just knew he had red marks there that everyone could see, despite the fact that the train station was deserted this early in the morning. His constant state of blushing, which had begun when he'd said a rather lengthy and thorough goodbye to Draco and activated the nauseating portkey that had brought him to Hogsmeade, wasn't helping things either.
He'd never been spoken to or kissed or clutched quite like that before, and his body and mind were still reeling.
After buying his ticket, during which the ticket seller stared obviously at Harry's neck, Harry headed to the train station to wait for the train.
"Harry!"
He jumped at the sound of his name and stared at Rafael striding across the platform towards him.
"It isn't safe," Rafael said, taking his arm and started leading him towards a sheltered area just outside the station.
"What are you doing here?" Harry said. Something pricked the skin at the small of his back and he winced, rubbing away the pain.
"Looking for you, obviously. You left no information as to your whereabouts; do you know how careless that was?"
"I was visiting a friend!"
"You mean Draco Malfoy."
"So what if I was visiting him? Why are you-"
Harry felt another sting of pain, this time right between his eyes, and suddenly, Harry realized that he recognized the magic.
It was Rafael's Legilimency. Like needles…
Immediately, Harry threw up a mental block and whipped out his wand. Pain filled his head and he stumbled backwards, unable to articulate a spell.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm trying to help you, Harry, but you don't see that. You're being manipulated. You've been manipulated from the beginning."
Rafael pressed harder and Harry staggered under the weight of the assault. He strained to keep his feet, keep his mind clear, keep his aim true. But there were fingers inside his head, turning pages without his consent. He saw Draco's face in shadows and candlelight, felt the blindfold drop from his eyes. He saw Draco kissing him, touching his arm, stroking his face. He saw Draco lifting his wrist to his mouth and biting down, hard.
"Why do you care so much about Draco?" he shouted, hoping that someone would hear him.
"Because he has something we need," Rafael said. "Something you gave him."
Harry could feel his strength buckling. With one last effort, he screamed, "Legilimens!"
Suddenly, he was there in Rafael's mind, and he could see a heavy door with a lock. With what Rafael had taught him about weaknesses being guarded closely, Harry leaned his weight against it and pushed. It swung open.
Shadows moved against the walls.
A heart beat, reverberated in his ears.
The crackle of parchment and scratch of a quill.
A contract signed in blood.
Harry staggered back into his own mind, choking and crashing to the floor. Gasping, he looked up to find Rafael standing over him, the somber expression on his face in direct contrast with the wand pointed at Harry's chest.
"You shouldn't have done that," he said. "You have no idea what you're forcing me to do. I'm so sorry. Stupefy."
###
A white owl was tapping at his window. Draco considered ignoring it and rolled over. But the tapping continued relentlessly and Draco groaned. Even though the entire castle had been spelled to repel the light, he was still sluggish and cranky from being woken up in the middle of the day.
His windows were west-facing and the sun had yet to reach his side. Even so, it was only because he recognized the owl as Harry's that he pushed the window open to let her through.
She hopped through onto the ledge, cooing softly.
"Hello, Hedwig," he said, petting her head and ruffling her feathers which carried smells from the outside world: pollen and blossoms and the faintest scent of Harry.
Harry hadn't stayed very long, citing responsibilities and obligations, but with a reluctance that had made Draco's skin tingle.
He unwrapped the letter from the owl's leg, yawning.
Malfoy-
Draco startled. This was not Harry's writing and not Harry's greeting.
Harry was supposed to arrive yesterday but-
Draco was gone before the parchment even hit the floor.
###
Tied to a chair with his arms pinned tightly against his body, Harry had no idea where he was or how much time had passed. He was in a cabin, maybe, or a cottage. It was dark and his head was pounding. The only light came from the fireplace gently glowing, and Rafael was crouched in front of it, using the Floo.
"Master," he said, and Harry's skin crawled. "I have the boy."
"This was not part of the plan."
Harry didn't recognize the other voice. It was raspy and low and dark; perhaps Voldemort had taken another form?
"I apologize, Master. But he saw, and I had to act. I didn't know what else to do."
Harry frowned. Why would Voldemort be disappointed that Harry had been captured?
"This complicates things, Rafael. They will not be as easily swayed to our cause now. You have failed me."
"I know. I'm sorry."
There was a long sigh from the other end of the fireplace. "Very well. What has been done cannot be undone. We must make the best of it."
Rafael bowed his head. He turned back to Harry as the fireplace burned out. Harry struggled reflexively but the bindings were too expertly knotted. He had no hope of freeing himself.
"I hate you," Harry spat, but he might as well have been speaking to himself. He'd been betrayed once again, blinded by the possibility of friendship. It was like a sick joke that someone kept perpetrating upon him.
"I understand. It will be over shortly, I promise."
The fireplace suddenly flared to life and Harry flinched. Out of the dust and ashes stepped an imposing figure in a dark hooded cloak.
"Harry Potter," Rafael said, sounding terribly formal. He stepped deferentially aside. "May I present my master: Aloysius Von Redding."
Harry's mind spun. It wasn't Voldemort, he realized, as Von Redding removed his hood. He had dark, deep set eyes and Harry shivered as his gaze was caught. He'd felt that preternatural chill before, but only with Draco-
"You're a vampire," he blurted out. "What… what do you want from me?"
"We do not wish to harm you, Mr. Potter. But we require your blood."
"You know who else wanted my blood? Voldemort. And he sure as hell wanted to hurt me."
"We aren't loyal to the Dark One, Harry," Rafael said.
"You have a funny way of showing it."
"Enough!" Von Redding said. He advanced slowly on Harry, who again pulled at the ropes in vain. "Unlike your Mr. Malfoy, I am no wizard. None of my vampires are. We do not have the benefits or advantages that wizards possess. I require your blood to ensure our survival. We are human-born vampires but dark creatures all the same. We are untrustworthy, even evil, according to some. These qualities do not lend themselves well to open discussions and handshake agreements. Had we approached you, we would have been killed on sight or remained eternally under suspicion: is this not true?"
Harry shook his head. "I don't know. You never gave me the chance."
"It matters not. We are offering you our loyalty, Mr. Potter. And by offering us your blood in return, you will have a binding contract."
"No," Harry said.
"Harry, be reasonable…" Rafael took a step forward from the corner.
"No! I will not be reasonable. You were my friend, and now you're betraying me. How dare you speak to me about helping you?" He glared hard at Von Redding, throwing caution to the wind by staring directly into his eyes. "I will never consent to this."
Von Redding paused. "If you wish, Mr. Potter. However, consider this: thanks to Rafael's considerable research over the past months, I now have access to quite the treasure trove of information about you."
Harry stared at Rafael.
"Indeed," Von Redding continued. "Rafael knows your innermost secrets and desires. He knows your deepest fears. He knows your fondness for certain individuals, both familial and… otherwise. He also has access to these individuals. Surely you wouldn't want this information finding its way to the Dark One."
Harry shook his head. "You wouldn't. You wouldn't."
"He is loyal to me," Von Redding said sharply. He reached out and ran his thumbs down the side of Harry's neck.
"Master, is there no other way?" Rafael said.
"The alternatives are survival or death," Von Redding said. "Consent, Mr. Potter." He dug his fingers, applying pressure, and Harry again fought to escape.
But what choice did he have? He thought of Draco, dying in his attempt to save Pansy and now fighting for the right to be, to exist, to live. He thought of Hermione and Ron, who'd put their futures on hold to stay with him at Hogwarts so he wouldn't be alone. Between his own life, and the lives of his friends, there was no choice.
"Do it."
"Wait," Rafael said, but Von Redding was already moving, already had a hand in Harry's hair. He bent Harry's neck to the side. Harry fought with himself not to struggle.
The blast of light from Rafael's wand was blinding. Harry heard the command "Stupefy!" almost as an afterthought to the recoil of the spell hurtling through Von Redding's body. With a growl of rage, Von Redding turned on Rafael, who fired another spell directly at his chest. Stunned, Von Redding collapsed to the floor.
Rafael untied Harry with shaking hands.
"I'm sorry," he said. "Please believe me."
Harry stood up as soon as he was able and put his back to the wall. "Give me my wand. Right now."
Rafael held out Harry's wand and Harry snatched it away. Immediately, he pointed it at Rafael, who, with a quiet breath, set his own wand down.
All the rage Harry felt, all the helplessness he'd been forced to endure, all the pain of betrayal came surging to the forefront, and a hundred curses rushed to Harry's mind. He could barely hear anything over the sound of his harsh breathing. He was terrified and angry and sick and hurt, and he couldn't help thinking that he deserved to exact some retribution.
He took a deep breath.
"Why did you help me?"
"I know you don't believe me, but I never meant for this to happen. We were in dire straits, and my master… he needed my help."
"You betrayed him by helping me," Harry said, suddenly realizing what had really happened here. "How… how is that possible? The After-Bite Effect…"
"…may or may not be pure fiction," Rafael said. "But I knew this was wrong. I only wish I had had the self-fortitude to act sooner."
And then, all Harry could see was another human being, torn in a hundred different directions by forces he couldn't control. Harry knew how that felt, how terrible and painful it was to live life like that every single day.
He sighed. "When my friends come looking for me," he said carefully, "tell them… tell them thank you."
He didn't wait to see the ropes finish twisting around both Rafael and Von Redding's bodies; immediately after casting the binding spell, Harry Apparated away.
***
"Harry. Stop."
Harry didn't answer. Since arriving back at Hogwarts, he had broken in to Dumbldore's office focused on a single task: destroying the contract. He had expected more resistance, but the box that the contract had been sealed inside gave way easily to an 'Alohamora'. Now he understood why: after firing spell after spell at the contract-first a burning spell, then a blasting spell, then a shredding spell-the parchment either repelled or absorbed the magic and remained entirely unscathed. Frustrated, Harry threw his wand aside. He seized the contract in both hands and tried to rip it apart, but again to no avail.
"Harry," Dumbledore repeated, stepping into view. "Stop. You'll only exhaust yourself. You cannot break the contract."
Harry glared up at him. "Do you know why Rafael was really here? Because his master had heard that the Order was brokering deals with other vampire factions and wanted to know the price for their loyalty. I understand that we need allies. But our potential allies have been reduced to sneaking around behind our backs. How, exactly, does that inspire loyalty?"
"A contract would guarantee loyalty."
"Fear and dependency, yes. Not loyalty." Harry took a deep breath. "Professor, you told me once that life is made out of our choices. Well, I'm choosing to have a say in what happens to me. I want in on decisions that affect me. No more closed doors. As well, I want out of this contract. You said I couldn't break it. Why not?"
"You do not have the power, Harry. Even if I were to agree, one party alone cannot dissolve it."
Harry looked down at the two names on the contract.
Albus Dumbledore.
Draco Malfoy.
###
As angry as Draco was at Harry for not staying behind at Rafael's cottage and making him worry and therefore making both Weasley and Granger stare at him strangely, he couldn't really blame him. All the attention that would have been lavished upon him didn't seem like something Harry would have enjoyed, despite all of Draco's initial beliefs to the contrary.
So he broke away from their hastily forged rescue team and followed Harry's Apparition trail all the way back to Hogsmeade. On the ground, he found a discarded ticket stub with Harry's scent on it and took the train back to Hogwarts. Once there, Draco cast his senses out, searching.
The evening was warm and filled with the delicate sounds of night: rustling leaves, murmuring water, the low whirr and click of insects. Draco allowed his hearing to stretch out, and he could hear the staircases shifting inside Hogwarts and Mrs. Norris's paws on the carpeted halls. He reined his senses back in to listen for Harry's heartbeat and breathed a sigh of relief when he found it. He followed the sound of Harry's pacing footsteps all the way to the courtyard with the pebbled path and the fountain.
For a long moment, he just watched. Harry paced the circumference of the fountain over and over again, first in one direction and then the other. He was fighting an internal battle, and the expression on his face was heart-wrenching.
"Harry," he said quietly. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," Harry said, looking up abruptly, looking anything but fine. His face was pale and there were scratches on his neck. He laughed suddenly. "Want to hear something funny? Dumbledore wants me to talk to Rafael."
"You must be joking."
Harry shook his head. "He said I was perfectly within my right to feel outraged and violated about what happened. But he also said I should see if they're being sincere in their desire to join us. We could use their help."
"And what are you going to do?"
"Feel outraged and violated. And then? We'll see."
Harry heaved a great sigh. It was only now that Draco noticed Harry was holding their contract, the one with his own signature and seal, which Harry was rubbing absentmindedly with his thumb.
"How did you get that?" Draco said. "I thought it was locked in Dumbledore's office."
"It was," Harry said, turning the contract over and over in his hands. "I broke in and stole it but Dumbledore caught me."
"And?"
"He said I could do with it what I wanted. Anything at all."
"What do you want?"
Harry looked up and shook his head. "It's not as simple as asking me what I want. It's not just my life wrapped up in this piece of parchment. It's your life too, and Max's, and everyone else's, and you're all depending on me to-"
"Harry." Draco took hold of Harry's wrist, the hand that was holding the contract. Now, along with Harry's thundering pulse, Draco could feel that Harry was shaking, could hear the minute vibrations of the parchment. "If it could be that simple, what would you want?"
Harry flinched, like the mere thought of asking for what he needed was too much to bear. But he gathered himself and looked down at the contract. "I want you to be here, Draco. But not because of this."
Their eyes met, but this time it was Draco who felt like he was being pulled in.
"I want that, too."
"Are you sure?"
"If you're asking if I'm certain about your sincerity in helping us having a place in a world without the Dark Lord, then yes, I am. And if you're asking if I'm certain about the two of us, then yes, I am. And I don't need a contract for either of those things."
"Oh," Harry said. He sounded a bit awed, and Draco knew just how he felt.
A faint rustling caught both their attention at the same time. And as they both watched, the contract in Harry's hand shimmered and disintegrated into ash before vanishing into the wind.
The End.