Chapter Four of 'Business Meetings'- When In Doubt

[lomonaaeren]

Chapter Three.

Title: Business Meetings (4/15 or 16)
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this for fun and not profit.
Pairing: Harry/Draco, mentions of others
Rating: R
Warnings: Creature!fic, angst, violence, sex, ignores the epilogue.
Summary: Draco leads a powerful group of vampires. Harry is their Ministry-appointed negotiator. Cue a series of once-monthly meetings where Harry and Draco argue about the various virtues of attacking the Ministry versus holding back from doing so, and, eventually, other things.
Author's Notes: This is going to be a fic with very short chapters, probably close to 1000 words each. I'm not sure yet how long it will be, but probably 15 or 16 chapters.

Chapter One.

Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Four—When In Doubt

“It’s the third.”

So the same wet-eyed flunkey they sent to him two months ago had said this time, and that meant it was Harry’s job to heave himself, bump-thump, along the path that led to Malfoy’s house and through the rooms to the cold lair he kept.

Harry gritted his teeth and swore under his breath as his leg dragged on the floor. He wanted to pause and rest, but the vampire who opened the door for him had stared at him with blue eyes that had more than a hint of grey in them and said, “The Lord is waiting for you.” So on he went, and the stupid leg that had chosen to get itself wounded by a stray curse could just drag behind him.

He paused outside the throne room and adjusted the hang of his cloak. Too much to hope that Malfoy wouldn’t smell the dried blood on his skin. He hadn’t had time to clean up before he was summoned. What Harry could do was make sure that he carried this off magnificently, so much so that other people would pause and goggle at him when they heard of it.

So he strode into the room, looking neither left nor right, and made his way to his chair first. Then he turned around and looked up at Malfoy’s throne, half-prepared to bow already.

Malfoy wasn’t there.

Harry paused, aware of his living heart filling his ears with blood and buzz and sound. Then he moved to the left.

He was in time to avoid one arm that came down trying to pin him, but not the other, which snaked around his shoulders and then his chest and tugged him in close. Harry bowed his head and rammed his forehead into Malfoy’s inner arm. He might as well not have. Malfoy might not feign being marble well, but his skin did.

Bleeding from the forehead, dazed, bruised, Harry heard Malfoy inhale and then whisper in his ear, “Tell me why I should not eat you.”

“Because they would get some infinitely more annoying Auror to replace me,” Harry said, staring into the darkness. He wobbled, but Malfoy held him upright. It was even kind of nice to have someone to lean on, considering his leg.

He banished that thought as soon as he realized he was having it and added, “They were talking about it today. They’re not satisfied that I haven’t brought you down in a hail of fire yet. Someone else would probably bring about the conflict between your flock and the Ministry a lot more efficiently.”

There was a pause, and then Malfoy turned him around. Harry went with it easily now that he knew what to expect, and cast a nonverbal Cleaning Charm on the way, to remove the blood from his skin. Malfoy sniffed him, next to his cheek and then his throat, and kept his mouth there while he spoke. “And you think I value your life enough to spare it?”

“I only know that I’ve survived three meetings so far, and that you seemed to want to keep your flock out of the fire,” Harry retorted, balanced in a way that would let him burn the hell out of Malfoy before he died. “If you kill me, you kill yourself too, and leave your flock leaderless and ready for a negotiator who can work the new leader like a Legilimens. That would be a bad thing.”

“Still thinking you can burn me before I drain you dry,” Malfoy whispered, and nuzzled in so that Harry could sense the edges of his fangs the way he would sense a wall in a dark room before he banged into it. “You are intolerably cute, Potter.”

Harry grinned, and poised himself. Malfoy shifted his muscles, and that weird purr-croon came bubbling out of his throat.

Harry lunged.

Malfoy’s arm that wasn’t around his shoulders seized his hand and pinned it to his side, his wand pointing down along his ribs. Harry heard the warning creak of the wood and knew that Malfoy might break his wand. He froze.

“That’s better,” Malfoy said, and his voice darkened and deepened to the point that Harry wouldn’t have been surprised to hear night speak in a tone like it. “Now. Why should I spare you? You came in here weak and limping, smelling of blood. The Ministry tossed you my way like a gift.”

“And you should know that the Ministry only gives poisoned meat,” Harry murmured, eyes half-closed, flexing his muscles in small twitches to test the strength of the vampire’s hold that he knew Malfoy would feel. “So ask yourself why I came in here like a gift, and you’ll find the answer to your first question.”

Malfoy paused. Then he drew his head back. His eyes met Harry’s.

Harry stared into them, into swirling grey and black, and held his position. No matter how long Malfoy looked at him, he was still in the middle of a throne room being held by a vampire who felt like a granite spider, not falling into an abyss of pleasure or whatever Malfoy wanted him to be.

“Why are you resistant to this?” Malfoy whispered.

Harry tried to shrug, but Malfoy’s arms held him too firmly for that, so he did his best to answer lightly. “For the same reason that I’m resistant to the Imperius Curse, I think. I’m too stubborn. Someone tries to tell me that it would be a good idea to do what they order me to, and I don’t think it is.”

Malfoy laughed, a noise like dust choking, and released him. Harry turned, keeping Malfoy in view as he walked towards the throne. Malfoy paused near the bottom step and cocked his head at Harry.

“You should have known better than to come here wounded,” he said. “You should have known what a temptation you would be to me, and you had no way of knowing whether I had fed recently or not. I could have ripped you to pieces for the heat in your veins before considering the political consequences.”

“Again with the over-confidence and the big talking,” Harry said, shaking his head. “You can’t fool me. Would someone who can’t place other needs above his hunger have become the leader of a flock of vampires strong enough to worry the Ministry? Would someone who’s heard my warnings dump them all by the wayside and spring on me without considering all the consequences?”

Malfoy stared at him for a moment, his fangs retracting. “I don’t know whether you’re complimenting or insulting me,” he said at last.

“I leave that as an exercise for the listener,” Harry said, and gave him a small bow. The rush in his veins was enough to obscure the pain in his leg. It wasn’t often a vampire or even some of the people he worked with would unbend like this, which made the consideration a gift.

Like the gift Malfoy had already given him, of saying that Harry was the best Auror he could imagine as their negotiator until a properly-trained one came along.

He looked back up to find Malfoy utterly still, poised on the edge of what seemed to be a scent trail. “What?” Harry asked.

“You weren’t lying,” Malfoy whispered. “You feel honored to be here. You are capable of feeling honored to be here.”

I should have known he would smell my emotions. Harry nodded with a faint smile. “I did try to tell you that I treated humans and vampires alike unless they were trying to kill someone.”

Malfoy half-lowered his head as if to guard his throat. “I did just try to kill you.”

“You threatened,” Harry said. “You didn’t try. I have the feeling I would have known if you tried.”

Malfoy smiled this time the way that humans might smile, although of course his fangs still projected and Harry would have been stupid to forget who and what he faced. “You are a temptation, then,” he said. “In other ways than just the blood.”

Harry put his eyebrows up, but Malfoy didn’t explain what he meant, and Harry decided not to pursue it. “So,” he said, shifting around and looking at his chair over his shoulder. “What do you want to discuss?”

“This month? Nothing.” Malfoy licked his bottom lip, and Harry found himself waiting for him to lick the upper, but it didn’t come. “You have given me enough to think about, including the vague hints of news you dispensed.”

“I haven’t heard anything solid, such as a date the Ministry might prepare to move against you,” Harry said softly. “I would have told you that.”

“I know,” Malfoy said, and his voice grew—strange. Not the burble-purr, but deep in another way. “That is what makes you so valuable.”

Harry thought he knew, then. Malfoy meant he was an actual channel to share information, not an Auror who would keep it to himself whether or not he should, simply because he hated all vampires. He nodded and flashed Malfoy a smile. “Then take care, Malfoy, and I’ll see you next month.”

“Use a salve that contains comfrey on your leg,” Malfoy said. “Or I will know.” He stepped into the shadows that seemed to cluster around the throne and was gone.

“Comfrey’s less offensive to your nostrils than my natural scent, right?” Harry called after him.

“Wrong,” said the voice that could come from everywhere and nowhere.

Harry went, blinking, and off-balance in more ways than one.