My Hols fic: Love In Lieu
Jan. 10th, 2011 07:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nursedarryFirst, I must give GINORMOUS THANKS to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
katerina_black for the most fabulous, awesome, beautiful, and stunning gift:
Slipping Away .
Now, come on, guys, I don't bite. And neither will this...much. Give it a chance :)
Title: Love In Lieu
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco, AS/S, Ginny/Neville (implied)
Rating: Hard R
Word Count: ~12,700
Summary: A scratch from one of the venerated Undead shouldn’t be that much to worry about, should it? How will Draco keep Potter away from the one person he loves more than himself?
Warning(s): Creature!fic (but since the prompt specified a bit of fluffiness and no blood-play, there’s nothing too graphic here - think Love at First Bite, rather than The Hunger).
Author's Notes: Epilogue compliant. Written foreanelinea77 for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hd_holidays, 2010. Huge thanks to my betas and brit-pickers, delphipsmith, cassie_black12, and groolover. OCs name is an anagram of Abraham Van Helsing.
^o^
“Scorpius, my god, are you all right? Potter, what happened? What did you do to him?” Draco hurriedly followed the two young men into the sitting room. Had Albus Potter not been supporting him as he walked, Scorpius looked as though he would have fallen into a heap.
His son limped slowly, his eyes were half-closed, and his mouth was a tight line, as though he were trying to mask a hidden pain.
“I’m all right, Father, Albus is just trying to help,” Scorpius said.
Draco wouldn’t be put off so easily. He took Scorpius by the other arm and fairly pulled him to one of the sofas, laying him carefully along the cushions. “What’s wrong? Why are you here? Why didn’t you go to the hospital? I’m taking you to St Mungo’s!” Draco reached down to grab his son’s arm whilst tugging his wand from his robe’s pocket.
“Malfoy, wait!”
Harry Potter – Draco would recognise that voice anywhere. “What are you doing here?” Draco turned and asked, hardly able to hide his look of distaste. Scorpius drew his attention back before Draco could become any more cross at his two unwelcome guests.
“Father, I’m fine. We’ve already been there, and they sent us home. We didn’t want to worry you.”
“Somebody tell me what happened and tell me now!” Draco snarled, obviously not convinced of Scorpius’ well-being. He tried to shoulder his way closer to the head of the sofa. Albus stubbornly refused to make way for him.
“Malfoy,” Harry said. “Come over here and I’ll tell you what happened. Leave Albus to look after Scorpius for the moment. Then I’ll take Albus home.”
“Fine,” Draco moved away from Scorpius’ side, though his eyes never left him.
“Sit down,” Harry suggested, as if hoping he’d be asked to do the same.
Draco didn’t give him the satisfaction and continued to stand. “I’m fine where I am, Potter. Just get on with it.” He watched as Albus placed another cushion behind his son’s back. Scorpius assured him he was all right and gave him a smile. Draco scowled. He’d only come to terms with his son’s relationship with Albus a few months ago. The two boys had been inseparable since being Sorted together, and whilst Draco had taken great delight in winding Albus’ father up about having a snake in the family, he’d pretended not to notice when the boys’ friendship took a turn for the romantic. Since then, Draco had made a concerted effort not be reminded of that romance until circumstances dictated it couldn’t be denied. Like now.
Harry’s voice drew him out of his distasteful ruminations. “They were in London,” he explained. “Leaving a club or something –”
“Something?”
“Yes, a club, Father. A nice, pleasant club. Perfectly safe, perfectly legal – not an opium den, for Merlin’s sake.”
Draco turned back to his son and sighed. He still struggled to reconcile this handsome and nearly adult man with the toddler whom he remembered so clearly.
“I had Albus tagged with a Tracking Spell –”
“Which we’ll talk about later,” the younger Potter threatened. Clearly he was rankled about his father's surveillance.
Harry continued as though his son hadn’t spoken. “It alerts me when Albus might be in danger.”
“Yes, yes, Potter, I have a similar one on Scorpius. Do get on with it.”
“WHAT?!” Scorpius sat up sharply and Albus placed his hands gently on his shoulders, encouraging him to lie back. “You never told me that! Father, I’m –”
“Go on, Potter,” Draco said, ignoring Scorpius’ outburst.
“I could sense Albus was in trouble, so I Apparated to him and found the boys being…menaced by a…” Harry stopped and his brow creased, “…another wizard, who I believed was intent on doing them harm. I stunned him, er, eventually, and he was picked up by the Aurors. Then we Apparated to St Mungo’s and I was just about to contact you, when the Mediwizard there told us we could take Scorpius home.”
For a long moment, Draco stared levelly at Harry. Then he turned to the two boys. “Right, which one of you wants to tell me what really happened?”
Scorpius opened his mouth, but Albus beat him to it. “We were leaving the club and turned a corner to cut through an alley. This guy was just kind of lurking there. He didn’t look like a tramp or anything, more like a businessman. His robes were in good nick, at least. At any rate, as we got closer he said that I was a ‘lucky man’. Then he pointed at Scorpius and said he knew how I felt. I’ve no idea what he was on about.”
Draco sneered but remained silent and let Albus continue. Albus reached down and took Scorpius’ hand, as if concerned that recounting the story was a little distressing for the young Malfoy.
“I think he was a vampire. Whatever he was, he was creepy and kept sniffing Scorpius. He said that his ‘blood smelled like a beautiful perfume’. Scorp made a joke, saying that was just because someone had spilt a drink on him, but this guy didn’t laugh — just slinked closer and reached out a hand towards Scorp as if to grab him or stroke him or something. That’s when Dad appeared.”
“He didn’t touch me, Father. Mr Potter shoved us out of the way and tussled with this fellow and then finally stunned him. That’s when the Aurors appeared.”
As if on cue, a house-elf appeared with a pop and looked up at Draco with big eyes. “Master, there is an Auror being here and wanting to speak to Master, sir.”
Draco nodded curtly. “Show him in,” he said.
“The Auror is being a she, Master,” the Elf said, almost apologetically.
“Yes, yes,” Draco said crossly to the elf with a dismissive wave of his hand. The elf disappeared and a moment later led Ginny Weasley into the room. Although dressed in her working robes, it was evident she was first and foremost here as a mother, as she ignored everyone in the room and quickly went to Albus’ side, giving him a quick hug.
“Are you all right?” she asked. Albus nodded. “How about you, Scorpius?”
“I’m fine, Ms Weasley. He didn’t touch me. The Healer said I would be fine.”
Ginny sighed and finally acknowledged Draco and her ex-husband. “Harry, I’ll need you to come in and make a report.”
Harry nodded. “Sure, I just wanted to make sure Scorpius got home okay. I was just going to head back. Is Neville with you?”
“No,” she said. “He’s still at Headquarters.”
Draco had forgotten that the She-Weasel’s new love-interest was also an Auror. Evidently life with Harry and his now-famous owl-rearing business didn’t provide enough excitement for her. Draco smiled at the layers of meaning behind that notion.
Ginny continued. “He’s keeping an eye on this creature, as he’ll need to be under constant surveillance. At least until sunrise. The would-be assailant might have a record.”
So, it had been a vampire, Draco thought. He doubted that the vampire was anything more than what he appeared: a creature that was just going about procuring a meal. Which wasn’t illegal.
Making a new vampire without consent was illegal, of course, but most would never dream of such a thing. They were very protective of their territory and their tastes, both of which were passed on to any vampires that they’d sire. Rarely could two live in close proximity, particularly when vying for the same game. Hence, most known vampires were exceedingly old, fairly well-known, and didn’t make trouble.
Obviously, Harry either didn’t know this, or had been too concerned for his son’s safety to care. A bite from a vampire wasn’t a thing to be sneezed at, though. They were serious wounds and the victim would be out of sorts for days; some even went permanently do-lally as a result. Case in point: Draco was convinced that a number of people he’d attended Hogwarts with (both students and staff) had once been on the receiving end of a vampire’s kiss.
In some cultures it was considered good luck or a status symbol to have been marked by the Undead. They were renowned for their fickleness and sense of good taste.
Even so, Draco was relieved that Scorpius had escaped unscathed.
“Let’s go, Albus,” Harry said. A house-elf appeared by Draco’s unspoken summons to escort the visitors to the Apparition point just outside the Wards.
“What’s that?” Ginny asked, as Harry reached for his son.
The Potters and Draco all looked where she pointed. There was a long angry-looking scratch on Harry’s left forearm. It wasn’t fresh, but it did look painful. “Oh, probably from one of the owls. It’s nothing.”
According to what Draco had heard (about which he feigned complete disinterest), Harry sold his hand-reared owls to any number of high street owl purveyors around Britain, Ireland, and the Continent. They were famous for their gentle demeanours and reliable service.
“You should have had it looked at whilst we were at the hospital, Dad,” Albus chastised him.
“I’ll sort it out at home. It’s not that bad,” Harry assured him.
“Thank you for looking after me, Mr Potter.”
“You’re welcome, Scorpius,” Harry said.
Draco snorted. “He wasn’t there for you, you know, Scorpius. He came running because his son was in danger.”
“Malfoy, that’s not true!” Harry growled.
Ginny bristled at the exchange. “And a good thing he did, or Scorpius would have been a midnight snack and would now be spending the next fortnight in the Janus Thickey ward with a bandage on his neck!”
He didn’t reply, but Draco was pretty sure his posture and expression conveyed the Whatever he was desperate to say.
Albus gave Scorpius’ hand a last squeeze and assured him he’d see him the following day. Draco rolled his eyes, but stayed silent. As much as he was cheered by the idea that Scorpius would suit a vampire’s discerning palate, he questioned his son’s own taste when it came to finding someone with whom to share bodily fluids.
Draco watched as the door closed behind his visitors.
^o^
The next day when Draco entered the sitting room, it felt as though he’d never left.
“Potter, what are you doing here?”
Both Harry and Albus looked at him for clarification.
“As much as it pains me to say it, I know why Albus is here, Potter, but why are you tagging along? Chaperone?” Draco smirked at his own joke.
“Father,” Scorpius warned. Harry turned and looked at the younger Malfoy.
“Hey, Scorp,” Albus said, “We’ve got some more information on your would-be assailant. He’s got some kind of cool-sounding foreign name; Chinese, or something. At any rate, according to the Aurors, he has a thing for blonds. Can you believe it?” Albus smiled and playfully rubbed his knuckles over Scorpius’ head. “Most of his consorts are blond and they think all of his victims have been, as well. Good taste, this vampire.”
In an effort to avert his eyes from the display of affection in front of him, Draco turned to address Potter Sr. He stopped mid-thought when he saw Harry’s expression. His eyes were glazed and his lips were parted. If Draco didn’t know better, he’d have thought Harry was under a poorly-cast Imperius.
“Potter!” he said loudly and snapped his long fingers in Harry’s face.
Harry blinked and moved his head away, but slowly, suggesting that he’d been a million miles away when Draco’s hand had invaded his personal space. “What is it, Malfoy?” he asked angrily.
“You still haven’t answered my question. Why are you here?” Draco resisted the urge to tap his foot.
“Well, you know, I’m just here to see how Scorpius is doing,” Harry said. “And to make sure Albus stays out of trouble,” he added, almost as an afterthought.
“Dad, we’ve been through this. I’m fine,” Albus said.
Obviously, the little father/son chat about the Tracking Charm had taken place. And by the sound of it, Potter Jr had had the last word.
“The Aurors have released the vampire; they couldn’t hold him for being…well, a vampire,” Harry finished somewhat lamely.
“I know, Potter,” Draco said. “Your ex Floo’d a message to me last night after you left.” He watched to see if his description of Weasley would rankle the Great Harry Potter. Apparently not.
“Oh, that’s good…” Harry said absently. Draco followed his gaze back to Scorpius.
“Right, time to go,” Draco made a sweeping gesture with his arm, making it obvious that he was including Albus in the dismissal.
“Actually, I’ve come to collect Scorpius,” Albus said. “We’re going out to meet up with Teddy, James and Uncle George for the Quidditch. They’ve got tickets to the Cannons this afternoon.”
“I’ll be fine, Father,” Scorpius said.
“Are you going, Potter?” Draco asked.
“Huh? Oh, no. I’ve got to take some birds over to Eeylops this afternoon, and then I’m —”
“That’s nice,” Draco interrupted. He ushered everyone from the room, stopping only to cast a discreet Tracking Charm on both Harry and Scorpius. Something was going on there, and Draco wasn’t sure he liked it.
On second thought, he was sure. He didn’t like it one bit.
^o^
Albus’ dad got back late.
Albus and Scorpius had given in and made love, hoping Harry wouldn’t come home in the middle of it and hear them. They could both be quiet if they needed to, of course; Hogwarts had taught them a thing or two about that. But Albus loved to hear Scorpius make noise. He’d never yell or anything, and for that Albus was grateful — it had always sounded fake whenever he’d hear shouting through a poorly-cast Silencing Spell — but hearing Scorpius gasping “Oh god, Albus, I’m going to come,” just before he did come, never failed to tip Albus over the edge.
Now they lay, nearly asleep in each other’s arms in Albus’ bed. Albus figured his father probably knew what they got up to whenever Scorpius stayed the night, but they never advertised it. And Harry didn’t seem to mind; he always greeted Scorpius warmly in the morning. Albus drifted off with Scorpius pressed against his back, breathing soft and slowly.
Albus was awoken by a sliver of light shining in his face. He opened his eyes as far as a squint and saw the silhouette of a figure standing next to the bed, the light from the hall like an aura around it. Albus opened his eyes fully and tried to focus on the figure, even as he knew it could only be one person.
“Dad?” Albus croaked, his voice sleepy. “What is it?”
His father made no answer.
Albus raised himself up on one elbow and tugged the duvet further over his and Scorpius’ bodies. “Dad,” he said a little louder. “Is something wrong?”
Harry remained silent. Albus’ eyes adjusted to the light and he could see his father’s features. Harry’s eyes were glassy, his mouth slack, as if he were asleep but standing. He wore his clothes and a cloak, like he’d just returned to the house, so he couldn’t be sleep-walking.
Albus began to worry. Particularly because Harry’s focus was definitely trained on Scorpius. Albus followed his father’s gaze and saw that Harry seemed mesmerised by the sight of Scorpius’ bare shoulder and throat where his body emerged from underneath the duvet.
“Dad!” Albus said, very loudly, and Scorpius stirred beside him. That jolted Harry from his trance and he blinked, looking down at the two boys in a confused manner. “Are you okay? What are you doing in here?”
By now, Scorpius was awake enough to know that they weren’t alone, and he pulled the duvet up to his chin.
“I— I’m sorry, boys. I didn’t mean to intrude, I just…” Harry stammered. Then he abruptly turned and fled from the room, shutting the door behind him.
“What was that all about?” Scorpius asked quietly into the dark.
“I’ve no idea,” Albus replied. “It’s almost like he was sleep-walking.” He turned around and pulled Scorpius to him. “I don’t think he knew where he was or even saw us until I said something loud enough to wake him up. I’ll ask him tomorrow if you’re worried about your virtue.” Albus’ joke fell flat. Both boys worried about Harry’s behaviour.
“I hope there’s nothing wrong with him,” Scorpius said. “You know the stories you hear about your dad…”
“And the ones about yours?” Albus countered.
“Point taken,” Scorpius said, obviously not in the mood to have that conversation again.
“Let’s get back to sleep…or something,” Albus suggested.
“Or something?” Scorpius asked with mock disdain. “Potter, sometimes I think you should have been Sorted with the rest of your family; you’re about as subtle as a—” Scorpius never finished the sentence. Albus’ tongue got in the way.
^o^
Malfoy Manor was alight with candles the size of fairy lights, giving the house and grounds a lovely ethereal quality. From the Apparition point, just beyond the wards, visitors would hear the melodic strains of the orchestra playing from within.
Albus was looking forward to tonight; maybe not so much to the party, to which he’d been invited along with James, as to the night on the town they had planned for later. Albus wondered how Draco would react when he found out that their father was gate-crashing.
Once the Potters arrived and had given their cloaks to the house-elf on duty, they were shown to the ballroom -- miles, it seemed, from where they had entered the mansion.
Albus handed Scorpius another drink and rested his arm on Scorpius’ shoulder. “Good party, baby. Is there a reason we’re still here drinking eggnog when we could be sipping ridiculously-named cocktails at this Muggle place James wants to go to?”
“Very funny, Albus. Father wanted us to get together here for his Christmas party first before we went out. I think he’s still a little worried about me whenever I’m out of the house, so he looks for ways to keep me at the Manor. You know, the Aurorsdid have to let that vampire go.”
“Well, he’ll just have to find another blond. You’re mine.” Albus leaned in and gave Scorpius a more-than-friendly kiss on the lips. When he parted he noticed Scorpius blushing.
“Sorry, I forgot you don’t like to get into it in your own home,” Albus teased.
“Unlike you, you randy prat. Actually, I don’t mind it that much,” Scorpius admitted. “In fact, I quite like kissing my boyfriend in public. But what I don’t think too much of is Pansy Parkinson ogling us while we’re doing it.” Scorpius surreptitiously motioned with his cup towards one of the French doors, where, indeed, Pansy Parkinson stood with one of her old school chums and a predatory expression on her face.
Of course Pansy often appeared that way to Albus. And Albus had learned that many girls got rather swoony or worse whenever they saw Scorpius and him sharing a snog.
What he didn’t expect was that same look on the face of his father. But that was exactly what he saw when he turned to glance over towards where Harry was standing. It wasn’t outright lust, but rather an almost whimsical desire. It was a bit like the expression his grandmother wore whenever she talked about that nutty Gilderoy What’s-His-Name. Of course, that guy and his granny were never in the same room together, so he’d never seen her expression progress from the whimsical to the predatory, as it was now doing on the face of his father.
“C’mon,” said Albus, and he steered Scorpius towards the other side of the room.
*
An hour later and Albus was ready to leave. He tried vainly to catch James’ eye and give him the let’s-get-out-of-here signal, but James was too busy flirting with someone’s mum to notice. Albus found a place to deposit his empty mug, which was immediately snatched up by a house-elf, and went in search of the rest of the members of the group who were going out to London that night.
He located most of them and gave them the same signal, which was returned gratefully, and then went to find Scorpius. He wandered around the huge room, crowded with guests, and when he didn’t see him, went to look through one of the open doors.
He found Scorpius just outside trying to fend off the advances of his father.
“Dad!” Albus cried. “What the hell are you doing?”
Luckily no one from inside the room had heard the shout, but Draco came running just as Harry looked up.
“Potter!” Draco shouted. “Get your hands off my son!”
Harry looked down at his hands, which were wrapped tightly around Scorpius’ wrists. He was standing far too close to the younger man and only just that moment seemed to realise it. But he made no move to either release or move away from Scorpius. Indeed, he tried to thrust himself in front of the boy, placing himself almost protectively between Scorpius and anyone else.
“Stay away from us,” Harry warned.
Albus hadn’t thought to draw his wand, so stunned was he, but Draco had.
“Wait! Father!” Scorpius said sharply. Draco pulled up short but stood glaring at Harry and then quickly glanced at Albus.
“Albus, get him away from him. Now!”
Albus wasn’t sure who the hims referred to, but reckoned he meant get Harry away from Scorpius and not the other way around. Albus moved closer to the pair and was rewarded with a snarl from his father. Albus knew his father well enough to see that he was obviously possessed, or ill, or something was pretty damned wrong. There was no way on Earth he would ever do something like this while in complete control of his faculties.
From Scorpius’ reaction, it was clear he felt similarly. Only Draco seemed to think otherwise. Or didn’t care. Or both.
From the large ballroom, there came a crash as someone dropped a glass or knocked over an ornament. Whatever it was, it was enough of a distraction for Albus’ quick-thinking boyfriend. Scorpius leapt out of Harry’s grasp and raced to Albus’ side.
“Father, put your wand away. Isn’t it obvious this isn’t what it looks like? There’s something wrong with Mr Potter.”
“Yes, there is,” Draco barked. “And he’s going to be dead wrong in a moment, so it won’t matter.” He advanced on the dazed Harry.
“Mr Malfoy!” Albus shouted at the same time Scorpius yelled “Father!”
Albus turned to protect Harry and then stopped short. Harry now gazed at Draco with the same expression that Albus had seen earlier when his father had been staring at Scorpius. It didn’t seem to matter a whit to Harry that Draco stood only a metre away, wand drawn and murderous intent written all over his face.
Correction. It did seem to matter, Albus realised, but not in the way Draco had probably intended. Harry edged closer.
“Potter, are you cracked?” Draco asked, taken aback by Harry’s behaviour. “What, for the love of Merlin, is your problem?”
“There’s no problem, Malfoy,” Harry said, almost calmly. “No problem at all.”
Then he pounced.
Harry threw his arms around Draco’s neck and they tumbled to the ground.
Draco was trapped beneath Harry, his aristocratic features now a mask of panic and fury. “Get off me, you raving lunatic!” he screamed.
“So sorry to have walked in on such a romantic scene,” said an amused and obviously tipsy voice from behind the four men.
“Blaise!” Draco called. “Get this crazy man off me; he’s trying to kill me!”
Harry mumbled incoherently and draped himself across Draco’s body, effectively pinning him to the ground. Albus knew that his father’s compact body belied considerable strength and agility.
“That’s not what it looks like from here, Draco, old boy,” Blaise said merrily.
Albus had to agree with him. From this angle it really did look like his father was almost trying to kiss—
“Dad! Stop that! Scorpius, help me get him off your father!” Albus rushed over to the two men lying tangled on the flagstones.
“Holy hells, this is even better than watching Theo and Loony Lovegood going at it in Sixth year!” Albus heard Pansy Parkinson exclaim. She must have joined the group outside. “Millie, get out here and look at Draco and Potter!”
Footsteps clattered against slate and by the time Albus had managed to yank one of his father’s arms from around Draco, most of the party guests seemed to have gathered in the garden for a glimpse of the pair tussling on the ground.
“Teddy, James, some help, please!” Albus called.
Scorpius had managed to peel one of his father’s legs from around Harry’s hips— it looked as though he was trying to gouge out a piece of Harry’s thigh with the heel of his boot —and Teddy pulled at Harry’s other arm, whilst Albus held fast to the one he’d pulled away earlier.
“Ow, Teddy, what the fuck are you doing?!” Draco screamed. Harry’s hand came away from Draco’s head still gripping a fistful of pale hair.
“Harry, man, get off Draco,” Teddy said and Albus almost burst out laughing at the silliness of the statement.
Blaise had managed to free Harry’s other leg and the four men literally lifted Albus’ dad off Scorpius’ father. Pansy helped Draco to his feet by offering him the hand that wasn’t holding a mug of eggnog. He stood upright, weaving slightly, one hand clutching his head, the other pressed against his jaw.
Harry struggled feebly and then went limp. Scorpius, Albus, Blaise, and Teddy deposited him on the soft manicured grass next to the patio. Blaise wisely stooped to collect Draco’s wand before he could Accio it.
“Why the hell didn’t one of you Stupefy the bastard?” Draco shouted.
“I was too afraid of hitting you by mistake, Father,” Scorpius said, by way of an explanation.
“And I wasn’t about to stop the show,” Pansy said.
Draco glared at her, then waved an arm at the interested onlookers.
“Right, everyone get out of here.” People slowly shuffled back inside where the music still played and the house-elves still stood with their trays laden with cocktails and canapés.
Albus and James crouched next to their father, who sat rubbing his head.
“Potter,” Draco said, shaking off Scorpius’ arm. “Do I need to call for the Aurors or are you going to explain that little encounter?”
“I can’t…Malfoy.”
“Not good enough,” Draco said crossly.
“I just felt so much…need…I can’t explain it.”
“Dad,” said Albus quietly. “When I came out here, you were holding Scorpius by the arm. You looked like you wanted to…I dunno…devour him or something.”
Harry’s expression turned to disbelief. “Oh, my god.” He looked up at Scorpius. “I’m so sorry. I never intended to hurt you. I honestly didn’t. But you just smelled so…good.” Albus fought back a sharp tang of disgust at his father’s words.
“That’s enough, Potter,” Draco said tightly.
“And you, Malfoy. So familiar, like a favourite dessert, or the smell of Quidditch…” Albus’ disgust intensified. He tried to decide what was the more sickening — his father making a move on his boyfriend, or making a move on his boyfriend’s father. It was bad enough trying to imagine his parents even conceiving him. Particularly since his father had come out.
“Potter, are you completely cracked? I think you need to get a grip—” Draco’s shouting brought Albus back to the present.
“Wait!” Scorpius interrupted. All eyes turned to him. “That’s what he said. A favourite wine, the smell of springtime…”
“What’s he on about?” James asked, helping his father to his feet.
“The vampire!” Scorpius said excitedly. “The vampire said that I reminded him of those things!”
“What?” cried everyone at once.
“Potter, why the hell would you have said those things?” Draco asked incredulously. “Unless that creature got to you somehow while you were there with the boys…”
Harry reflexively looked down at his arm to the scratch they’d asked about that night.
“Oh, bloody hell, Dad,” James said, shaking his head. “This is bad.”
“What are we going to do now?” Albus asked.
“Don’t tell Mum,” muttered James.
*
Once most of the guests had all been dispatched to their respective homes, a lengthy and heated discussion followed.
“This isn’t good.” Hermione Granger-Weasley still had a knack for stating the obvious and sounding patronising at the same time. “The book has a chapter about this, and you wouldn’t believe what a rare phenomenon it is.” She held up a large, leather-bound tome.
“I can believe it,” Draco said. Trust Potter to be different again. Of course it wasn’t enough to be a Quidditch protégé, a Parselmouth, and Saviour of the Wizarding world. He also had to be the one person in the whole bloody world that could be turned into a vampire from a stupid scratch.
Harry had asked Hermione to come over seeing that she knew so much about vampires. And everything else. “Normally, even the bite of a vampire isn’t enough to spawn,” she continued. "There has to be intent on both sides, and even then, there has to be a formal declaration, and now, of course, registration. This is…” she bent her bushy head back towards the book, “...unprecedented.”
“Don’t you think that in order for there to be a chapter about this in a book, there’d be some precedent?” Draco paced back and forth in the sitting room. Scorpius was safely tucked away up in his room with Albus, Teddy, Blaise and Greg taking it in turns to stand guard. Everyone knew that if Harry wanted, he’d get through any locking charm. Probably wandlessly, too, the bastard.
“Sit down, Malfoy,” Harry demanded. “You’re making me tired just watching you.”
“Yes, I’m sure that’s all I’m making you,” Draco replied mirthlessly. He might not like it, but he was convinced he had to stay in Harry’s presence, lest the man turn his attention towards his son.
Harry harrumphed. “Relax, Malfoy. I’m not going to attack you.”
“All evidence to the contrary,” Draco shot back. He looked at Pansy, who sat demurely in an armchair. She smirked at him, almost as if she could read his mind. He quickly blotted out the memory of the spike of desire that had jolted through him the minute Harry had laid hands on him, and returned to wearing down the pattern on the expensive Oriental rug.
“Well, according to the author of this chapter, a Dr Graham Silva-Behann, there’s no way to stop what’s happening. You’ll become a vampire, Harry.”
“What? With fangs, and fear of the sunshine and I’ll turn into a bat?” Harry looked absolutely appalled.
Hermione looked at him pityingly. “You don’t know the first thing about vampires, do you?”
“Er, no, I guess not, since you’ve said that,” he admitted.
“To start with, you’ll not be confined to darkness. It says,” she bent her head to the book again and read, “’Although not widely acknowledged, any vampire, regardless of parentage, can survive the daylight hours, though they often prefer to be more active at night, due to their unusual nature. Because of their need for blood, they are best suited to feeding at night when their prey is at its most vulnerable.’”
“You mean inebriated,” James said from next to his father.
“No, James,” Hermione corrected. “Vampires would never take advantage of someone who wasn’t in full control of their faculties. They’d consider drunkenness an extremely unattractive condition. Vampires are almost snobbish in their tastes—”
“Said like a true Mud— Muggle-born,” Draco interrupted. “I believe the word you’re looking for is discerning.”
“Malfoy,” Hermione warned, and resumed her lecture. “They’d also never unintentionally make another vampire. However, this is believed to have happened on rare occasions. A Proxy Vampire — that’s what it’s called — has no recollection of either consenting to the process or experiencing it. Nor is there a lasting mark from their sire’s bite or whatever caused their creation, like one would have from intentional procreation. Those bites — and they’re always bites —are normally pretty obvious…although, interestingly, not usually in the obvious place.” She pointed to her neck in explanation.
“What do you mean unintentionally?” Harry asked, turning his head towards his friend. Draco sat down heavily in the nearest armchair.
“A vampire only creates another vampire if he or she feels the need to…well, die, to cease to exist. It rarely happens. Maybe one in five thousand vampires spawns. And there are maybe fifteen thousand vampires worldwide.
“However, a scratch or even the tears of a very strong or very old vampire has been said to create Proxy Vampires. At least, according to Dr Silva-Behann,” Hermione finished.
Draco rubbed his eyes. It was nearing midnight and he was getting tired and cranky.
“I take it this Dr What’s-His-Name—”
“Silva-Behann,” said everyone else in the room.
“Whatever,” Draco continued, “is either dead or as mad as Professor Trelawney.”
Hermione studied the book jacket. “Says here he lives on the Continent with his family. And this book was published in the nineties.”
“Great!” Harry said too loudly. “Let’s go and find him.”
“Wait,” Pansy interjected. “Granger, you were explaining what would happen to Potter. So he can go out in the day, but he’ll keep getting all randy and want to jump Draco. Or Scorpius, right?”
“Pansy, for the last time, will you give it a rest?!” Draco glared at her. “Potter is not getting anywhere near Scorpius. And Potter is not going to jump me! And even if he were, he certainly wouldn’t be doing it in front of you!”
A very protracted and uncomfortable silence followed, broken finally when Pansy responded with “More’s the pity, eh, Granger?”
Instead of replying, Hermione just blushed.
Draco, finally realising what he’d said, groaned and covered his eyes with his hands. “Oh Merlin, would everyone please just go away? Potter, take your spawn and Granger out of here now, will you? Pansy, tell Teddy, Greg and Blaise to go home. And you go with them.”
“Wait, Malfoy, don’t you want to know about Harry—?” Hermione started.
“Oddly enough, no, I don’t really care what the hell happens to him. So long as he leaves my son alone!” Draco barked at her.
“That might not be as easy—”
“Granger! Are you listening?! I. Don’t. Care. Keep him away from us. Got that?”
She just shook her head. But no one said anything further as they filed out of the room.
^o^
Harry, Albus, and James sat in James’ flat drinking tea and shaking their heads. Hermione had tried to go through all the changes Harry should expect to undergo, then left him with strict orders to register himself as a vampire at the Ministry. Proxy Vampires being so rare, he’d be the first one on record in recent history.
“So, have you got that, Dad?” Albus said for what felt like the millionth time. He knew his father was effectively raised a Muggle, but even Aunt Hermione seemed to have come to grips with magical vampires faster than his father. “You can go out in daylight, but you’ll find you have less and less reason to.”
“I already work mostly at night,” Harry reminded his son. Easily done when one was a breeder and dealer of nocturnal animals.
“You’ll be able to see yourself in mirrors, and your life-span has now been extended even further, but unlike true vampires, you will die eventually.”
“Hooray for that, at least.”
Albus wasn’t sure his father was taking his new condition terribly seriously. And it was time to get serious.
“You will crave and drink the blood of other humans, Wizard, Muggle, doesn’t matter, but you’ll be attracted to the same type of human your sire was—”
“Stop calling him that,” Harry demanded. “You make it sound like this curse was…consensual.” He practically hissed the last word.
“No, Dad,” Albus was quick to reassure his father. “Of course it wasn’t. And we wouldn’t expect you to do anything non-consensual to anyone else, but you ‘re going to have to feed sometime.”
“I’m sure that’s just rubbish. All my life I’ve been told I’m different from other wizards. Maybe I won’t have to.” Harry tried to sound sure of himself, but by now Albus had learned to distinguish notes of underlying uncertainty.
“We’re just concerned, Dad. This is pretty serious. What if Hermione finds out otherwise? And with you being alone over the holidays…well…” Albus had never heard James sound worried about their father before; it was usually Albus who did the worrying for everyone.
“You heard Aunt Hermione say she’s going to try to brew some artificial blood or plasma or whatever it is for me during the holidays. She’s the best Potions Mistress there is, and I’m sure she’ll sort it for me before I get too…er…hungry.”
It was true: as Hogwarts’ Potions professor, Hermione had almost limitless resources with which to work. She was staying at the school over the holidays, having been asked to help keep watch over the small number of students who remained there during the festive season. As the Head of Gryffindor House, she would also be keeping an eye on Lily Potter, who had opted to stay at the school with her friend Violet Finnigan whose parents were visiting elderly relatives.
Albus wondered if maybe he or James should change their plans to be with their father. Albus and Scorpius were going to Tuscany for a romantic Christmas break, and James and Teddy were going to America for a fortnight to watch the Quodpot Play-Offs.
“Please don’t worry. I’ll call your mother if I think I’m going to do something rash, and she and the Aurors will keep an eye on me. I’ve got some work to finish up and then Uncle George and I are going to hang out together and eat and drink too much. I’ll be fine.” Harry sounded reassuring and the boys had no option except to believe him.
Part 2
katerina_black for the most fabulous, awesome, beautiful, and stunning gift:Now, come on, guys, I don't bite. And neither will this...much. Give it a chance :)
Title: Love In Lieu
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco, AS/S, Ginny/Neville (implied)
Rating: Hard R
Word Count: ~12,700
Summary: A scratch from one of the venerated Undead shouldn’t be that much to worry about, should it? How will Draco keep Potter away from the one person he loves more than himself?
Warning(s): Creature!fic (but since the prompt specified a bit of fluffiness and no blood-play, there’s nothing too graphic here - think Love at First Bite, rather than The Hunger).
Author's Notes: Epilogue compliant. Written for
eanelinea77 for hd_holidays, 2010. Huge thanks to my betas and brit-pickers, delphipsmith, cassie_black12, and groolover. OCs name is an anagram of Abraham Van Helsing.“Scorpius, my god, are you all right? Potter, what happened? What did you do to him?” Draco hurriedly followed the two young men into the sitting room. Had Albus Potter not been supporting him as he walked, Scorpius looked as though he would have fallen into a heap.
His son limped slowly, his eyes were half-closed, and his mouth was a tight line, as though he were trying to mask a hidden pain.
“I’m all right, Father, Albus is just trying to help,” Scorpius said.
Draco wouldn’t be put off so easily. He took Scorpius by the other arm and fairly pulled him to one of the sofas, laying him carefully along the cushions. “What’s wrong? Why are you here? Why didn’t you go to the hospital? I’m taking you to St Mungo’s!” Draco reached down to grab his son’s arm whilst tugging his wand from his robe’s pocket.
“Malfoy, wait!”
Harry Potter – Draco would recognise that voice anywhere. “What are you doing here?” Draco turned and asked, hardly able to hide his look of distaste. Scorpius drew his attention back before Draco could become any more cross at his two unwelcome guests.
“Father, I’m fine. We’ve already been there, and they sent us home. We didn’t want to worry you.”
“Somebody tell me what happened and tell me now!” Draco snarled, obviously not convinced of Scorpius’ well-being. He tried to shoulder his way closer to the head of the sofa. Albus stubbornly refused to make way for him.
“Malfoy,” Harry said. “Come over here and I’ll tell you what happened. Leave Albus to look after Scorpius for the moment. Then I’ll take Albus home.”
“Fine,” Draco moved away from Scorpius’ side, though his eyes never left him.
“Sit down,” Harry suggested, as if hoping he’d be asked to do the same.
Draco didn’t give him the satisfaction and continued to stand. “I’m fine where I am, Potter. Just get on with it.” He watched as Albus placed another cushion behind his son’s back. Scorpius assured him he was all right and gave him a smile. Draco scowled. He’d only come to terms with his son’s relationship with Albus a few months ago. The two boys had been inseparable since being Sorted together, and whilst Draco had taken great delight in winding Albus’ father up about having a snake in the family, he’d pretended not to notice when the boys’ friendship took a turn for the romantic. Since then, Draco had made a concerted effort not be reminded of that romance until circumstances dictated it couldn’t be denied. Like now.
Harry’s voice drew him out of his distasteful ruminations. “They were in London,” he explained. “Leaving a club or something –”
“Something?”
“Yes, a club, Father. A nice, pleasant club. Perfectly safe, perfectly legal – not an opium den, for Merlin’s sake.”
Draco turned back to his son and sighed. He still struggled to reconcile this handsome and nearly adult man with the toddler whom he remembered so clearly.
“I had Albus tagged with a Tracking Spell –”
“Which we’ll talk about later,” the younger Potter threatened. Clearly he was rankled about his father's surveillance.
Harry continued as though his son hadn’t spoken. “It alerts me when Albus might be in danger.”
“Yes, yes, Potter, I have a similar one on Scorpius. Do get on with it.”
“WHAT?!” Scorpius sat up sharply and Albus placed his hands gently on his shoulders, encouraging him to lie back. “You never told me that! Father, I’m –”
“Go on, Potter,” Draco said, ignoring Scorpius’ outburst.
“I could sense Albus was in trouble, so I Apparated to him and found the boys being…menaced by a…” Harry stopped and his brow creased, “…another wizard, who I believed was intent on doing them harm. I stunned him, er, eventually, and he was picked up by the Aurors. Then we Apparated to St Mungo’s and I was just about to contact you, when the Mediwizard there told us we could take Scorpius home.”
For a long moment, Draco stared levelly at Harry. Then he turned to the two boys. “Right, which one of you wants to tell me what really happened?”
Scorpius opened his mouth, but Albus beat him to it. “We were leaving the club and turned a corner to cut through an alley. This guy was just kind of lurking there. He didn’t look like a tramp or anything, more like a businessman. His robes were in good nick, at least. At any rate, as we got closer he said that I was a ‘lucky man’. Then he pointed at Scorpius and said he knew how I felt. I’ve no idea what he was on about.”
Draco sneered but remained silent and let Albus continue. Albus reached down and took Scorpius’ hand, as if concerned that recounting the story was a little distressing for the young Malfoy.
“I think he was a vampire. Whatever he was, he was creepy and kept sniffing Scorpius. He said that his ‘blood smelled like a beautiful perfume’. Scorp made a joke, saying that was just because someone had spilt a drink on him, but this guy didn’t laugh — just slinked closer and reached out a hand towards Scorp as if to grab him or stroke him or something. That’s when Dad appeared.”
“He didn’t touch me, Father. Mr Potter shoved us out of the way and tussled with this fellow and then finally stunned him. That’s when the Aurors appeared.”
As if on cue, a house-elf appeared with a pop and looked up at Draco with big eyes. “Master, there is an Auror being here and wanting to speak to Master, sir.”
Draco nodded curtly. “Show him in,” he said.
“The Auror is being a she, Master,” the Elf said, almost apologetically.
“Yes, yes,” Draco said crossly to the elf with a dismissive wave of his hand. The elf disappeared and a moment later led Ginny Weasley into the room. Although dressed in her working robes, it was evident she was first and foremost here as a mother, as she ignored everyone in the room and quickly went to Albus’ side, giving him a quick hug.
“Are you all right?” she asked. Albus nodded. “How about you, Scorpius?”
“I’m fine, Ms Weasley. He didn’t touch me. The Healer said I would be fine.”
Ginny sighed and finally acknowledged Draco and her ex-husband. “Harry, I’ll need you to come in and make a report.”
Harry nodded. “Sure, I just wanted to make sure Scorpius got home okay. I was just going to head back. Is Neville with you?”
“No,” she said. “He’s still at Headquarters.”
Draco had forgotten that the She-Weasel’s new love-interest was also an Auror. Evidently life with Harry and his now-famous owl-rearing business didn’t provide enough excitement for her. Draco smiled at the layers of meaning behind that notion.
Ginny continued. “He’s keeping an eye on this creature, as he’ll need to be under constant surveillance. At least until sunrise. The would-be assailant might have a record.”
So, it had been a vampire, Draco thought. He doubted that the vampire was anything more than what he appeared: a creature that was just going about procuring a meal. Which wasn’t illegal.
Making a new vampire without consent was illegal, of course, but most would never dream of such a thing. They were very protective of their territory and their tastes, both of which were passed on to any vampires that they’d sire. Rarely could two live in close proximity, particularly when vying for the same game. Hence, most known vampires were exceedingly old, fairly well-known, and didn’t make trouble.
Obviously, Harry either didn’t know this, or had been too concerned for his son’s safety to care. A bite from a vampire wasn’t a thing to be sneezed at, though. They were serious wounds and the victim would be out of sorts for days; some even went permanently do-lally as a result. Case in point: Draco was convinced that a number of people he’d attended Hogwarts with (both students and staff) had once been on the receiving end of a vampire’s kiss.
In some cultures it was considered good luck or a status symbol to have been marked by the Undead. They were renowned for their fickleness and sense of good taste.
Even so, Draco was relieved that Scorpius had escaped unscathed.
“Let’s go, Albus,” Harry said. A house-elf appeared by Draco’s unspoken summons to escort the visitors to the Apparition point just outside the Wards.
“What’s that?” Ginny asked, as Harry reached for his son.
The Potters and Draco all looked where she pointed. There was a long angry-looking scratch on Harry’s left forearm. It wasn’t fresh, but it did look painful. “Oh, probably from one of the owls. It’s nothing.”
According to what Draco had heard (about which he feigned complete disinterest), Harry sold his hand-reared owls to any number of high street owl purveyors around Britain, Ireland, and the Continent. They were famous for their gentle demeanours and reliable service.
“You should have had it looked at whilst we were at the hospital, Dad,” Albus chastised him.
“I’ll sort it out at home. It’s not that bad,” Harry assured him.
“Thank you for looking after me, Mr Potter.”
“You’re welcome, Scorpius,” Harry said.
Draco snorted. “He wasn’t there for you, you know, Scorpius. He came running because his son was in danger.”
“Malfoy, that’s not true!” Harry growled.
Ginny bristled at the exchange. “And a good thing he did, or Scorpius would have been a midnight snack and would now be spending the next fortnight in the Janus Thickey ward with a bandage on his neck!”
He didn’t reply, but Draco was pretty sure his posture and expression conveyed the Whatever he was desperate to say.
Albus gave Scorpius’ hand a last squeeze and assured him he’d see him the following day. Draco rolled his eyes, but stayed silent. As much as he was cheered by the idea that Scorpius would suit a vampire’s discerning palate, he questioned his son’s own taste when it came to finding someone with whom to share bodily fluids.
Draco watched as the door closed behind his visitors.
The next day when Draco entered the sitting room, it felt as though he’d never left.
“Potter, what are you doing here?”
Both Harry and Albus looked at him for clarification.
“As much as it pains me to say it, I know why Albus is here, Potter, but why are you tagging along? Chaperone?” Draco smirked at his own joke.
“Father,” Scorpius warned. Harry turned and looked at the younger Malfoy.
“Hey, Scorp,” Albus said, “We’ve got some more information on your would-be assailant. He’s got some kind of cool-sounding foreign name; Chinese, or something. At any rate, according to the Aurors, he has a thing for blonds. Can you believe it?” Albus smiled and playfully rubbed his knuckles over Scorpius’ head. “Most of his consorts are blond and they think all of his victims have been, as well. Good taste, this vampire.”
In an effort to avert his eyes from the display of affection in front of him, Draco turned to address Potter Sr. He stopped mid-thought when he saw Harry’s expression. His eyes were glazed and his lips were parted. If Draco didn’t know better, he’d have thought Harry was under a poorly-cast Imperius.
“Potter!” he said loudly and snapped his long fingers in Harry’s face.
Harry blinked and moved his head away, but slowly, suggesting that he’d been a million miles away when Draco’s hand had invaded his personal space. “What is it, Malfoy?” he asked angrily.
“You still haven’t answered my question. Why are you here?” Draco resisted the urge to tap his foot.
“Well, you know, I’m just here to see how Scorpius is doing,” Harry said. “And to make sure Albus stays out of trouble,” he added, almost as an afterthought.
“Dad, we’ve been through this. I’m fine,” Albus said.
Obviously, the little father/son chat about the Tracking Charm had taken place. And by the sound of it, Potter Jr had had the last word.
“The Aurors have released the vampire; they couldn’t hold him for being…well, a vampire,” Harry finished somewhat lamely.
“I know, Potter,” Draco said. “Your ex Floo’d a message to me last night after you left.” He watched to see if his description of Weasley would rankle the Great Harry Potter. Apparently not.
“Oh, that’s good…” Harry said absently. Draco followed his gaze back to Scorpius.
“Right, time to go,” Draco made a sweeping gesture with his arm, making it obvious that he was including Albus in the dismissal.
“Actually, I’ve come to collect Scorpius,” Albus said. “We’re going out to meet up with Teddy, James and Uncle George for the Quidditch. They’ve got tickets to the Cannons this afternoon.”
“I’ll be fine, Father,” Scorpius said.
“Are you going, Potter?” Draco asked.
“Huh? Oh, no. I’ve got to take some birds over to Eeylops this afternoon, and then I’m —”
“That’s nice,” Draco interrupted. He ushered everyone from the room, stopping only to cast a discreet Tracking Charm on both Harry and Scorpius. Something was going on there, and Draco wasn’t sure he liked it.
On second thought, he was sure. He didn’t like it one bit.
Albus’ dad got back late.
Albus and Scorpius had given in and made love, hoping Harry wouldn’t come home in the middle of it and hear them. They could both be quiet if they needed to, of course; Hogwarts had taught them a thing or two about that. But Albus loved to hear Scorpius make noise. He’d never yell or anything, and for that Albus was grateful — it had always sounded fake whenever he’d hear shouting through a poorly-cast Silencing Spell — but hearing Scorpius gasping “Oh god, Albus, I’m going to come,” just before he did come, never failed to tip Albus over the edge.
Now they lay, nearly asleep in each other’s arms in Albus’ bed. Albus figured his father probably knew what they got up to whenever Scorpius stayed the night, but they never advertised it. And Harry didn’t seem to mind; he always greeted Scorpius warmly in the morning. Albus drifted off with Scorpius pressed against his back, breathing soft and slowly.
Albus was awoken by a sliver of light shining in his face. He opened his eyes as far as a squint and saw the silhouette of a figure standing next to the bed, the light from the hall like an aura around it. Albus opened his eyes fully and tried to focus on the figure, even as he knew it could only be one person.
“Dad?” Albus croaked, his voice sleepy. “What is it?”
His father made no answer.
Albus raised himself up on one elbow and tugged the duvet further over his and Scorpius’ bodies. “Dad,” he said a little louder. “Is something wrong?”
Harry remained silent. Albus’ eyes adjusted to the light and he could see his father’s features. Harry’s eyes were glassy, his mouth slack, as if he were asleep but standing. He wore his clothes and a cloak, like he’d just returned to the house, so he couldn’t be sleep-walking.
Albus began to worry. Particularly because Harry’s focus was definitely trained on Scorpius. Albus followed his father’s gaze and saw that Harry seemed mesmerised by the sight of Scorpius’ bare shoulder and throat where his body emerged from underneath the duvet.
“Dad!” Albus said, very loudly, and Scorpius stirred beside him. That jolted Harry from his trance and he blinked, looking down at the two boys in a confused manner. “Are you okay? What are you doing in here?”
By now, Scorpius was awake enough to know that they weren’t alone, and he pulled the duvet up to his chin.
“I— I’m sorry, boys. I didn’t mean to intrude, I just…” Harry stammered. Then he abruptly turned and fled from the room, shutting the door behind him.
“What was that all about?” Scorpius asked quietly into the dark.
“I’ve no idea,” Albus replied. “It’s almost like he was sleep-walking.” He turned around and pulled Scorpius to him. “I don’t think he knew where he was or even saw us until I said something loud enough to wake him up. I’ll ask him tomorrow if you’re worried about your virtue.” Albus’ joke fell flat. Both boys worried about Harry’s behaviour.
“I hope there’s nothing wrong with him,” Scorpius said. “You know the stories you hear about your dad…”
“And the ones about yours?” Albus countered.
“Point taken,” Scorpius said, obviously not in the mood to have that conversation again.
“Let’s get back to sleep…or something,” Albus suggested.
“Or something?” Scorpius asked with mock disdain. “Potter, sometimes I think you should have been Sorted with the rest of your family; you’re about as subtle as a—” Scorpius never finished the sentence. Albus’ tongue got in the way.
Malfoy Manor was alight with candles the size of fairy lights, giving the house and grounds a lovely ethereal quality. From the Apparition point, just beyond the wards, visitors would hear the melodic strains of the orchestra playing from within.
Albus was looking forward to tonight; maybe not so much to the party, to which he’d been invited along with James, as to the night on the town they had planned for later. Albus wondered how Draco would react when he found out that their father was gate-crashing.
Once the Potters arrived and had given their cloaks to the house-elf on duty, they were shown to the ballroom -- miles, it seemed, from where they had entered the mansion.
Albus handed Scorpius another drink and rested his arm on Scorpius’ shoulder. “Good party, baby. Is there a reason we’re still here drinking eggnog when we could be sipping ridiculously-named cocktails at this Muggle place James wants to go to?”
“Very funny, Albus. Father wanted us to get together here for his Christmas party first before we went out. I think he’s still a little worried about me whenever I’m out of the house, so he looks for ways to keep me at the Manor. You know, the Aurorsdid have to let that vampire go.”
“Well, he’ll just have to find another blond. You’re mine.” Albus leaned in and gave Scorpius a more-than-friendly kiss on the lips. When he parted he noticed Scorpius blushing.
“Sorry, I forgot you don’t like to get into it in your own home,” Albus teased.
“Unlike you, you randy prat. Actually, I don’t mind it that much,” Scorpius admitted. “In fact, I quite like kissing my boyfriend in public. But what I don’t think too much of is Pansy Parkinson ogling us while we’re doing it.” Scorpius surreptitiously motioned with his cup towards one of the French doors, where, indeed, Pansy Parkinson stood with one of her old school chums and a predatory expression on her face.
Of course Pansy often appeared that way to Albus. And Albus had learned that many girls got rather swoony or worse whenever they saw Scorpius and him sharing a snog.
What he didn’t expect was that same look on the face of his father. But that was exactly what he saw when he turned to glance over towards where Harry was standing. It wasn’t outright lust, but rather an almost whimsical desire. It was a bit like the expression his grandmother wore whenever she talked about that nutty Gilderoy What’s-His-Name. Of course, that guy and his granny were never in the same room together, so he’d never seen her expression progress from the whimsical to the predatory, as it was now doing on the face of his father.
“C’mon,” said Albus, and he steered Scorpius towards the other side of the room.
An hour later and Albus was ready to leave. He tried vainly to catch James’ eye and give him the let’s-get-out-of-here signal, but James was too busy flirting with someone’s mum to notice. Albus found a place to deposit his empty mug, which was immediately snatched up by a house-elf, and went in search of the rest of the members of the group who were going out to London that night.
He located most of them and gave them the same signal, which was returned gratefully, and then went to find Scorpius. He wandered around the huge room, crowded with guests, and when he didn’t see him, went to look through one of the open doors.
He found Scorpius just outside trying to fend off the advances of his father.
“Dad!” Albus cried. “What the hell are you doing?”
Luckily no one from inside the room had heard the shout, but Draco came running just as Harry looked up.
“Potter!” Draco shouted. “Get your hands off my son!”
Harry looked down at his hands, which were wrapped tightly around Scorpius’ wrists. He was standing far too close to the younger man and only just that moment seemed to realise it. But he made no move to either release or move away from Scorpius. Indeed, he tried to thrust himself in front of the boy, placing himself almost protectively between Scorpius and anyone else.
“Stay away from us,” Harry warned.
Albus hadn’t thought to draw his wand, so stunned was he, but Draco had.
“Wait! Father!” Scorpius said sharply. Draco pulled up short but stood glaring at Harry and then quickly glanced at Albus.
“Albus, get him away from him. Now!”
Albus wasn’t sure who the hims referred to, but reckoned he meant get Harry away from Scorpius and not the other way around. Albus moved closer to the pair and was rewarded with a snarl from his father. Albus knew his father well enough to see that he was obviously possessed, or ill, or something was pretty damned wrong. There was no way on Earth he would ever do something like this while in complete control of his faculties.
From Scorpius’ reaction, it was clear he felt similarly. Only Draco seemed to think otherwise. Or didn’t care. Or both.
From the large ballroom, there came a crash as someone dropped a glass or knocked over an ornament. Whatever it was, it was enough of a distraction for Albus’ quick-thinking boyfriend. Scorpius leapt out of Harry’s grasp and raced to Albus’ side.
“Father, put your wand away. Isn’t it obvious this isn’t what it looks like? There’s something wrong with Mr Potter.”
“Yes, there is,” Draco barked. “And he’s going to be dead wrong in a moment, so it won’t matter.” He advanced on the dazed Harry.
“Mr Malfoy!” Albus shouted at the same time Scorpius yelled “Father!”
Albus turned to protect Harry and then stopped short. Harry now gazed at Draco with the same expression that Albus had seen earlier when his father had been staring at Scorpius. It didn’t seem to matter a whit to Harry that Draco stood only a metre away, wand drawn and murderous intent written all over his face.
Correction. It did seem to matter, Albus realised, but not in the way Draco had probably intended. Harry edged closer.
“Potter, are you cracked?” Draco asked, taken aback by Harry’s behaviour. “What, for the love of Merlin, is your problem?”
“There’s no problem, Malfoy,” Harry said, almost calmly. “No problem at all.”
Then he pounced.
Harry threw his arms around Draco’s neck and they tumbled to the ground.
Draco was trapped beneath Harry, his aristocratic features now a mask of panic and fury. “Get off me, you raving lunatic!” he screamed.
“So sorry to have walked in on such a romantic scene,” said an amused and obviously tipsy voice from behind the four men.
“Blaise!” Draco called. “Get this crazy man off me; he’s trying to kill me!”
Harry mumbled incoherently and draped himself across Draco’s body, effectively pinning him to the ground. Albus knew that his father’s compact body belied considerable strength and agility.
“That’s not what it looks like from here, Draco, old boy,” Blaise said merrily.
Albus had to agree with him. From this angle it really did look like his father was almost trying to kiss—
“Dad! Stop that! Scorpius, help me get him off your father!” Albus rushed over to the two men lying tangled on the flagstones.
“Holy hells, this is even better than watching Theo and Loony Lovegood going at it in Sixth year!” Albus heard Pansy Parkinson exclaim. She must have joined the group outside. “Millie, get out here and look at Draco and Potter!”
Footsteps clattered against slate and by the time Albus had managed to yank one of his father’s arms from around Draco, most of the party guests seemed to have gathered in the garden for a glimpse of the pair tussling on the ground.
“Teddy, James, some help, please!” Albus called.
Scorpius had managed to peel one of his father’s legs from around Harry’s hips— it looked as though he was trying to gouge out a piece of Harry’s thigh with the heel of his boot —and Teddy pulled at Harry’s other arm, whilst Albus held fast to the one he’d pulled away earlier.
“Ow, Teddy, what the fuck are you doing?!” Draco screamed. Harry’s hand came away from Draco’s head still gripping a fistful of pale hair.
“Harry, man, get off Draco,” Teddy said and Albus almost burst out laughing at the silliness of the statement.
Blaise had managed to free Harry’s other leg and the four men literally lifted Albus’ dad off Scorpius’ father. Pansy helped Draco to his feet by offering him the hand that wasn’t holding a mug of eggnog. He stood upright, weaving slightly, one hand clutching his head, the other pressed against his jaw.
Harry struggled feebly and then went limp. Scorpius, Albus, Blaise, and Teddy deposited him on the soft manicured grass next to the patio. Blaise wisely stooped to collect Draco’s wand before he could Accio it.
“Why the hell didn’t one of you Stupefy the bastard?” Draco shouted.
“I was too afraid of hitting you by mistake, Father,” Scorpius said, by way of an explanation.
“And I wasn’t about to stop the show,” Pansy said.
Draco glared at her, then waved an arm at the interested onlookers.
“Right, everyone get out of here.” People slowly shuffled back inside where the music still played and the house-elves still stood with their trays laden with cocktails and canapés.
Albus and James crouched next to their father, who sat rubbing his head.
“Potter,” Draco said, shaking off Scorpius’ arm. “Do I need to call for the Aurors or are you going to explain that little encounter?”
“I can’t…Malfoy.”
“Not good enough,” Draco said crossly.
“I just felt so much…need…I can’t explain it.”
“Dad,” said Albus quietly. “When I came out here, you were holding Scorpius by the arm. You looked like you wanted to…I dunno…devour him or something.”
Harry’s expression turned to disbelief. “Oh, my god.” He looked up at Scorpius. “I’m so sorry. I never intended to hurt you. I honestly didn’t. But you just smelled so…good.” Albus fought back a sharp tang of disgust at his father’s words.
“That’s enough, Potter,” Draco said tightly.
“And you, Malfoy. So familiar, like a favourite dessert, or the smell of Quidditch…” Albus’ disgust intensified. He tried to decide what was the more sickening — his father making a move on his boyfriend, or making a move on his boyfriend’s father. It was bad enough trying to imagine his parents even conceiving him. Particularly since his father had come out.
“Potter, are you completely cracked? I think you need to get a grip—” Draco’s shouting brought Albus back to the present.
“Wait!” Scorpius interrupted. All eyes turned to him. “That’s what he said. A favourite wine, the smell of springtime…”
“What’s he on about?” James asked, helping his father to his feet.
“The vampire!” Scorpius said excitedly. “The vampire said that I reminded him of those things!”
“What?” cried everyone at once.
“Potter, why the hell would you have said those things?” Draco asked incredulously. “Unless that creature got to you somehow while you were there with the boys…”
Harry reflexively looked down at his arm to the scratch they’d asked about that night.
“Oh, bloody hell, Dad,” James said, shaking his head. “This is bad.”
“What are we going to do now?” Albus asked.
“Don’t tell Mum,” muttered James.
Once most of the guests had all been dispatched to their respective homes, a lengthy and heated discussion followed.
“This isn’t good.” Hermione Granger-Weasley still had a knack for stating the obvious and sounding patronising at the same time. “The book has a chapter about this, and you wouldn’t believe what a rare phenomenon it is.” She held up a large, leather-bound tome.
“I can believe it,” Draco said. Trust Potter to be different again. Of course it wasn’t enough to be a Quidditch protégé, a Parselmouth, and Saviour of the Wizarding world. He also had to be the one person in the whole bloody world that could be turned into a vampire from a stupid scratch.
Harry had asked Hermione to come over seeing that she knew so much about vampires. And everything else. “Normally, even the bite of a vampire isn’t enough to spawn,” she continued. "There has to be intent on both sides, and even then, there has to be a formal declaration, and now, of course, registration. This is…” she bent her bushy head back towards the book, “...unprecedented.”
“Don’t you think that in order for there to be a chapter about this in a book, there’d be some precedent?” Draco paced back and forth in the sitting room. Scorpius was safely tucked away up in his room with Albus, Teddy, Blaise and Greg taking it in turns to stand guard. Everyone knew that if Harry wanted, he’d get through any locking charm. Probably wandlessly, too, the bastard.
“Sit down, Malfoy,” Harry demanded. “You’re making me tired just watching you.”
“Yes, I’m sure that’s all I’m making you,” Draco replied mirthlessly. He might not like it, but he was convinced he had to stay in Harry’s presence, lest the man turn his attention towards his son.
Harry harrumphed. “Relax, Malfoy. I’m not going to attack you.”
“All evidence to the contrary,” Draco shot back. He looked at Pansy, who sat demurely in an armchair. She smirked at him, almost as if she could read his mind. He quickly blotted out the memory of the spike of desire that had jolted through him the minute Harry had laid hands on him, and returned to wearing down the pattern on the expensive Oriental rug.
“Well, according to the author of this chapter, a Dr Graham Silva-Behann, there’s no way to stop what’s happening. You’ll become a vampire, Harry.”
“What? With fangs, and fear of the sunshine and I’ll turn into a bat?” Harry looked absolutely appalled.
Hermione looked at him pityingly. “You don’t know the first thing about vampires, do you?”
“Er, no, I guess not, since you’ve said that,” he admitted.
“To start with, you’ll not be confined to darkness. It says,” she bent her head to the book again and read, “’Although not widely acknowledged, any vampire, regardless of parentage, can survive the daylight hours, though they often prefer to be more active at night, due to their unusual nature. Because of their need for blood, they are best suited to feeding at night when their prey is at its most vulnerable.’”
“You mean inebriated,” James said from next to his father.
“No, James,” Hermione corrected. “Vampires would never take advantage of someone who wasn’t in full control of their faculties. They’d consider drunkenness an extremely unattractive condition. Vampires are almost snobbish in their tastes—”
“Said like a true Mud— Muggle-born,” Draco interrupted. “I believe the word you’re looking for is discerning.”
“Malfoy,” Hermione warned, and resumed her lecture. “They’d also never unintentionally make another vampire. However, this is believed to have happened on rare occasions. A Proxy Vampire — that’s what it’s called — has no recollection of either consenting to the process or experiencing it. Nor is there a lasting mark from their sire’s bite or whatever caused their creation, like one would have from intentional procreation. Those bites — and they’re always bites —are normally pretty obvious…although, interestingly, not usually in the obvious place.” She pointed to her neck in explanation.
“What do you mean unintentionally?” Harry asked, turning his head towards his friend. Draco sat down heavily in the nearest armchair.
“A vampire only creates another vampire if he or she feels the need to…well, die, to cease to exist. It rarely happens. Maybe one in five thousand vampires spawns. And there are maybe fifteen thousand vampires worldwide.
“However, a scratch or even the tears of a very strong or very old vampire has been said to create Proxy Vampires. At least, according to Dr Silva-Behann,” Hermione finished.
Draco rubbed his eyes. It was nearing midnight and he was getting tired and cranky.
“I take it this Dr What’s-His-Name—”
“Silva-Behann,” said everyone else in the room.
“Whatever,” Draco continued, “is either dead or as mad as Professor Trelawney.”
Hermione studied the book jacket. “Says here he lives on the Continent with his family. And this book was published in the nineties.”
“Great!” Harry said too loudly. “Let’s go and find him.”
“Wait,” Pansy interjected. “Granger, you were explaining what would happen to Potter. So he can go out in the day, but he’ll keep getting all randy and want to jump Draco. Or Scorpius, right?”
“Pansy, for the last time, will you give it a rest?!” Draco glared at her. “Potter is not getting anywhere near Scorpius. And Potter is not going to jump me! And even if he were, he certainly wouldn’t be doing it in front of you!”
A very protracted and uncomfortable silence followed, broken finally when Pansy responded with “More’s the pity, eh, Granger?”
Instead of replying, Hermione just blushed.
Draco, finally realising what he’d said, groaned and covered his eyes with his hands. “Oh Merlin, would everyone please just go away? Potter, take your spawn and Granger out of here now, will you? Pansy, tell Teddy, Greg and Blaise to go home. And you go with them.”
“Wait, Malfoy, don’t you want to know about Harry—?” Hermione started.
“Oddly enough, no, I don’t really care what the hell happens to him. So long as he leaves my son alone!” Draco barked at her.
“That might not be as easy—”
“Granger! Are you listening?! I. Don’t. Care. Keep him away from us. Got that?”
She just shook her head. But no one said anything further as they filed out of the room.
Harry, Albus, and James sat in James’ flat drinking tea and shaking their heads. Hermione had tried to go through all the changes Harry should expect to undergo, then left him with strict orders to register himself as a vampire at the Ministry. Proxy Vampires being so rare, he’d be the first one on record in recent history.
“So, have you got that, Dad?” Albus said for what felt like the millionth time. He knew his father was effectively raised a Muggle, but even Aunt Hermione seemed to have come to grips with magical vampires faster than his father. “You can go out in daylight, but you’ll find you have less and less reason to.”
“I already work mostly at night,” Harry reminded his son. Easily done when one was a breeder and dealer of nocturnal animals.
“You’ll be able to see yourself in mirrors, and your life-span has now been extended even further, but unlike true vampires, you will die eventually.”
“Hooray for that, at least.”
Albus wasn’t sure his father was taking his new condition terribly seriously. And it was time to get serious.
“You will crave and drink the blood of other humans, Wizard, Muggle, doesn’t matter, but you’ll be attracted to the same type of human your sire was—”
“Stop calling him that,” Harry demanded. “You make it sound like this curse was…consensual.” He practically hissed the last word.
“No, Dad,” Albus was quick to reassure his father. “Of course it wasn’t. And we wouldn’t expect you to do anything non-consensual to anyone else, but you ‘re going to have to feed sometime.”
“I’m sure that’s just rubbish. All my life I’ve been told I’m different from other wizards. Maybe I won’t have to.” Harry tried to sound sure of himself, but by now Albus had learned to distinguish notes of underlying uncertainty.
“We’re just concerned, Dad. This is pretty serious. What if Hermione finds out otherwise? And with you being alone over the holidays…well…” Albus had never heard James sound worried about their father before; it was usually Albus who did the worrying for everyone.
“You heard Aunt Hermione say she’s going to try to brew some artificial blood or plasma or whatever it is for me during the holidays. She’s the best Potions Mistress there is, and I’m sure she’ll sort it for me before I get too…er…hungry.”
It was true: as Hogwarts’ Potions professor, Hermione had almost limitless resources with which to work. She was staying at the school over the holidays, having been asked to help keep watch over the small number of students who remained there during the festive season. As the Head of Gryffindor House, she would also be keeping an eye on Lily Potter, who had opted to stay at the school with her friend Violet Finnigan whose parents were visiting elderly relatives.
Albus wondered if maybe he or James should change their plans to be with their father. Albus and Scorpius were going to Tuscany for a romantic Christmas break, and James and Teddy were going to America for a fortnight to watch the Quodpot Play-Offs.
“Please don’t worry. I’ll call your mother if I think I’m going to do something rash, and she and the Aurors will keep an eye on me. I’ve got some work to finish up and then Uncle George and I are going to hang out together and eat and drink too much. I’ll be fine.” Harry sounded reassuring and the boys had no option except to believe him.
Part 2
(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-10 03:17 pm (UTC)Now I'm laughing at myself -- can't believe I didn't remember this when I helped you work it out LOLOL!!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-10 03:22 pm (UTC)Iijit!
*hugs*