[one-shots]: H/D, Record It As a Victory, R, 2/2

[lomonaaeren]

“Harry.”

His name, breathed out the way a lover would say it, nearly made Harry falter as he opened the door. He could hear all of that dusky red room in it, and the fire, and the bedroom that had been in the last part of his second dream. He swayed, and for a second he had to lean on the door.

But he forced himself forwards, he kept moving, and soon he stood in front of the cage. Malfoy was in front of him now, resting his hands lightly on the bars. His expression was utterly rapt, and he gazed at Harry as though he was looking for some evidence that Harry was as infatuated with him.

Harry thought about asking questions, but he knew Malfoy better by now. Malfoy wouldn’t answer them. Whether that was because he wanted to enchant Harry or because he wanted to protect his murder, Harry didn’t know and wouldn’t care.

So he stepped away and laid a finger against his throat like a blade. Malfoy looked at it in a way that made his attention in the dream seem like a picture of a fire against the real thing.

Harry swallowed, and Malfoy’s attention only grew sharper. Harry forced himself to speak without moving his finger. “I had to work hard to admit those fantasies to myself, but now I have.”

The shadow of a frown crossed Malfoy’s face, the only expression Harry thought he had worn without wanting to, in the last few days. But he waited.

“You’ve helped me see a side of myself I would have denied otherwise,” Harry continued, with forced lightness in his voice, “a side that wants to be held down and—and even commanded, if the one doing the ordering around could cherish me. I know that I could get away, but that’s not the point. The point is that the person doing it would desire me. So. That’s it. I can do things that I never thought I could if someone wants me.”

Malfoy had no breathing to suspend, but he continued to watch.

Harry dropped his finger from his throat and shrugged. “I thought about cutting my veins open to let out more blood—”

He had to pause at the croon that came from Malfoy’s throat, a soft singing hissing sound that made Harry’s mind go blank for a minute. He knew that he could take a step up to the cage, and it would bring him the most incredible pleasure.

But he was still what he was, someone who could resist the Imperius Curse and choose his destiny. He smiled a little and made himself continue. “But that would be cruel to you, and it wouldn’t serve my purpose. Instead, I’m going to make my fantasies come true. I’ve been working hard. I deserve a rest.”

Malfoy’s eyes had light in them.

“So I’m going to find a lover who can give me what I want.” Harry smiled at him. “When I’m back from my holiday and in a better mood, I’ll deal with you. I don’t think you’ll tell me anything else, so I’ve decided to take you to the Ministry. I can’t do it right now because I know that I’m too irritated to deal with you fairly. But when I’m back from the holiday, then I can more properly appreciate the contribution you made to my mental health.” He swept a little bow to Malfoy and turned to the door.

He was anticipating the order this time, and still, it crackled through him like a lightning bolt.

“Stop.”

Harry shivered and wondered how he could have mistaken his own earlier desire to obey for the simple coincidence of believing that Malfoy controlled his ability to leave the dreams. This was the impulse not to move, transformed as if he was telling his own feet not to do it.

And like the croon that had broken from Malfoy’s throat earlier, it made him weak with pleasure.

Because Malfoy had only ordered him to stop walking and not turn around, it was a bit before Harry let himself look over his shoulder and make out the soft, small noises coming from Malfoy. But he didn’t regret it when he did.

For once, Malfoy had lost the dreamy softness that he had been using to tempt Harry so far and make the orders feel as if they were a natural part of conversation. His face was twisted, his fangs showed in obvious threat, and he gripped the bars.

The wards sparked and spat, shocking him back. He raised his palms and turned them outwards to Harry, as if asking him why that had happened.

Breathing fast, Harry inclined his head. “I didn’t anticipate you having the power to reach me in my dreams,” he whispered. “But I knew that a vampire’s voice and eyes could be hypnotic. So the bars react when you’re trying to reach aggressively beyond them.”

Malfoy didn’t respond. He prowled in a circle instead, head turned so that he kept Harry under observation the entire time. Harry didn’t know how he did it. Then again, vampire muscles were probably weird after the transformation.

“What about me taking another lover makes you so upset?” Harry asked, his voice lulling. Maybe this was one question he would actually get an answer to.

But Malfoy, although he paused and sat down in the center of the cage, didn’t answer it directly. “That’s not a question that connects to your investigation.”

Harry felt the compulsion on his muscles loosening. Malfoy must not want him to stay still quite so much anymore. Harry turned and faced him fully.

Malfoy’s eyes at once lingered on his throat and wrists, and Harry rolled his eyes. So that was the reason that Malfoy had wanted him to turn around.

“I don’t know yet,” Harry said. “I don’t know why your murder sought out those particular people and killed them, or made them disappear, or whatever else they did. Why don’t you tell me?”

“You’re not like any of them.”

Harry frowned. “The people you made disappear? But the way you reached into my dreams suggests you did it before.” The burning in his stomach didn’t make Harry feel good about that, either, but it wasn’t like he could make Malfoy suddenly not have past lovers because he wanted to.

Malfoy lifted his head, his eyes gone bright again. "You're--you're more responsive than they were. Deeper. Quicker to come to my hand."

There was a different kind of burning in his stomach this time, but Harry was too pleased with the transformation of his jealousy to analyze why. He came forwards a step. "Then what do you want from me?" he whispered. "More sips of blood? More time spent in the dreams?"

"You know what I want," Malfoy said, and his voice was so deep that Harry could feel it buzzing in the walls around his heart. "The same thing you want."

Harry shook his head. "You could hold me down, but you couldn't make me warm."

"Try what I can do when my body is filled with blood." Malfoy curled his hands into delicate fists near the bars, without being foolish enough to try and hold onto them.

"But for that," Harry said, "I would have to feed you. And for that, I would have to let you out of the cage, and risk subjecting myself to the same sort of fate that you had in mind for the people you made disappear." He was whispering, and he had stepped close to the cage. Well, that was a risk he was willing to take. "I think we're speaking at cross-purposes."

"You wouldn't let me out even if I gave you the knowledge you wanted." Malfoy's nose twitched as if he was sniffing the coppery scent from Harry's veins. "I have no reason to give it to you."

Harry nodded once. "Does that mean that you would tell me that you did kill those people if I let you out? Because then I would hand you over to the Ministry interrogators."

Malfoy's face looked like a porcelain mask. "The question is an impertinence. Kneel."

This time, Harry let himself feel it, the desire that ran through his veins like blood pumped in, not drained out, that filled him with burning darkness and quicksilver. He let himself drop to his knees, not because he could not have resisted, but because he wanted to obey, and that was the most intoxicating option. Several meters still separated him from the cage, but he thought Malfoy had some plan for overcoming the distance.

Malfoy extended one hand as best as he could; the cage's wards were letting him reach further than before because he didn't intend to hurt Harry. "Come here."

Harry had only got one knee up before Malfoy's eyes flashed again. "Did I tell you to stand?"

Harry swallowed, deeply, and crawled across the floor to the cage. It didn't hurt his knees, but that didn't come from any cushioning property of the flagstones. It came from Malfoy's eyes and the commanding position they held in his gaze.

"Good," Malfoy whispered, when his face was only a short distance from the bars. Harry stopped. "Will you let me lick you?"

Harry understood, then, even as desire collared him and raced around his throat. Malfoy could order him because Harry wanted him to order him, but for the final approach, Malfoy wanted to see what he would do if his choice was left free.

Harry leaned his head in. Malfoy's hands twitched as though lightning leaped between them and animated his fingers, and he reached towards the cage bars again.

"What happened to them?" Harry whispered.

Malfoy jerked back, and then retreated towards the far side of the cage. He kept his back turned to Harry. Harry didn't stand, and didn't retreat. He just waited, breathing easily against the pressure of the invisible collar that Malfoy had put on him.

"You only care about your investigation, then?" Malfoy might have been whispering the question to the still air of the cellar.

"What do you think would happen if I let you out of this cage?" Harry asked. "Would I continue to have a choice because you wanted me to? Or would your instincts overpower you? Is this cage the only thing that gives me a choice?"

Malfoy scraped his nails up and down against the cage bars. His nails weren't particularly long, but they still sparked a complicated tangle of magic that made his fingers glow white for a second. He pulled his hands back.

"Well?" Harry asked, and stared into Malfoy's face as he turned around, while his heart continued to sing and circulate the blood in his veins, the blood that nearly made him dizzy, now that he knew Malfoy wanted it.

"Come here," Malfoy said, and his words pulled a rope that Harry hadn't known was attached to the center of his stomach.

Harry crawled around the cage, and Malfoy stuck out his tongue through the cage bars. Harry extended his tongue to meet it.

It was a sort of kiss, harder than Harry had thought it could be at that distance, wetter than the kiss with Cho, sparking like the magic that had held Malfoy's hands back, and Harry made a hungry noise and wrapped his hands around the bars. The wards leaped as if to shock him, then hesitated.

And Malfoy's hands clasped his.

Harry shivered. He could feel the strength in them, so wild and trapped that he wanted to promise to fling the cage door open at once, to invite it out and into his bed.

But if he did that, there was the fear that the energy would devour him.

Wouldn't it be a fine end, though?

Malfoy lifted his head, withdrawing his tongue from Harry's. His eyes were soft and dazed, but not the rest of him. The skin seemed to have drawn tighter over the bones of his cheeks and face. His teeth shone when he smiled, the fangs that Harry's eyes were drawn to. He knew the urge to reach out and skim a finger down the edge of one.

"You should let me out," Malfoy whispered, his words riding the edge of coercion.

Harry trembled. There was so little holding him back right now--duty, that was a small word when faced with Malfoy's fangs--and so much drawing him forwards. Desire. The promise in Malfoy's face. The shine in his nails, which could rend flesh as easily as his fangs. Pleasure, which waited for him in every move Malfoy made.

But Harry shut his eyes and made himself draw back. When he looked again, he saw Malfoy staring at him as if Harry had withdrawn a pardon when Malfoy was about to be executed.

"I think I know what happened to them," Harry whispered, and because he hadn't asked a question, Malfoy listened in breathless stillness instead of interrupting. "I do think I know. They became your lovers, or your pets, or whatever you want to call them, the same silly way that I'm offering, and you used them and flung them aside when you didn't need them anymore."

"Would a vampire like me, with the powers that I've demonstrated, have any need to cast aside the ripe young bodies of people who could feed me?" Malfoy whispered in response.

"Would a vampire like you have remained without a companion this long?" Harry asked.

"Would someone like me have failed to seduce people who wanted the same things you did?" Malfoy paused, maybe remembering that he had said Harry was different from the others. "If less intensely than you?" His fingers curled around what seemed a palmful of white lightning not far from the edge of the bars.

"Would someone who was really that powerful and disdained what I thought of him fear to tell me what happened to his previous lovers?" Harry swallowed again and stood up. His knees protested, not because they ached but at the withdrawal of what had felt like delicious contact with the floor. "Would someone who had only done what people asked of him have a need to order me around?"

"I order you because you love it. Stay."

Harry dropped down again, gasping. His stomach throbbed, and so did his throat--and not only because of the way Malfoy was looking at it, though when Harry checked over his shoulder, Malfoy was indeed looking at it.

"Oh, God," Harry moaned, and didn't drop his stomach down to rub himself against the floor only because Malfoy hadn't ordered him to.

"I promise you this." Malfoy was prowling in a circle near the cage door, now, and Harry felt the extra distance between them as an aching wound. "I promise that you will have everything you need from me if you let me out."

Harry licked his lips. That might mean that he would have the information about the missing Aurors and Unspeakables he needed from Malfoy's mouth. Or he might have everything he needed, without having what he wanted.

There was no reason that he should want instead of need the information about that case. This was why he had tracked and captured Malfoy in the first place.

"Answer me a question first," Harry whispered. "Did you let yourself be captured, so that you could be closer to me?"

Malfoy's mouth curved in a gentle smile. Harry wondered how many times that smile had been someone else's last sight.

"If I did," Malfoy whispered, "did I find the cage stronger than I suspected, and the will harder to bend, or did I find it exactly as I expected?"

The question contained the seeds of its own answer. Harry closed his eyes and bowed his head. He could feel the heat that Malfoy had promised, even if it was only his own blood pumping through his veins, flowing to his cock, heating his cheeks.

"Harry," Malfoy whispered, distant, and the voice was a lover's caress. "Unlock the cage."

The order resonated to the tang and leap of Harry's blood. He lifted his wand and waved it in the pattern that would command the wards to relax. They did it with a soft sigh, a complaining sound if Harry had ever heard one.

The door flipped open without Malfoy touching it.

Malfoy stepped out of it and came towards Harry, bending down over him. One cold hand touched Harry's overheated cheek. Harry raised his head, and his eyelashes trembled. Malfoy's fangs were only a short distance from his lips.

This time, it was Harry who gave the order.

"Take me to bed."

*

Malfoy was on top of him, the way he had promised, his hands pinning Harry's hands to the pillows. Harry arched up so that he could feel the hardness of Malfoy's muscles against him, and sighed. For right now, his own heat was more than making up for the lack of it in Malfoy's body.

"You aren't hard yet," Harry whispered against Malfoy's throat. Malfoy hadn't drunk from him yet either. He was sniffing at Harry's neck, his fangs skimming and grazing the skin, his tongue darting out and running the same path, and driving Harry mental. Harry arched his neck and whined deep in his throat.

"I'll get hard when I've drunk," Malfoy said. He pulled back and smiled at Harry, the most human smile Harry thought he had seen him give yet, even though it showed off his vampire teeth so well. He was smug and proud and pleased with himself, far more like the Draco Malfoy Harry had known all those years ago than someone else. "And something's wrong if you're not panting and wordless yet."

Harry started to retort, but Malfoy's fangs slid into his throat, and his words vanished.

The blood went swirling through his body, all concentrating into that one point. Harry grunted and tried to say something. The words died on his tongue. Malfoy's tongue was licking now, licking inside him, into the cut, and Harry could do nothing but turn his head and open his lips and trust Malfoy to understand his message that way.

Malfoy seemed to. His hands grew so strong on Harry's wrists that Harry strained against them, once, for something to have. And then even his physical perceptions began to mix and blend and swirl down the invisible drain that his blood was pouring down, too.

As he fed, Malfoy grew warm on top of Harry. He moaned and shifted, and there was hardness where Harry wanted it, sliding between his legs, poking him, pinning his own erection as much as Malfoy's hands were pinning his wrists. Harry opened his legs, and closed his eyes.

He had no strength for anything else.

His brain danced back and forth, wavering like a candleflame blown by a strong breath. Malfoy was on him. He knew that. Malfoy could drain him to death. He knew that. Malfoy could command him to do anything now that he was free, his dangerous tendencies not held back by the bars of the cage.

Harry couldn't bring himself to care.

Malfoy licked and fed and spoke to him at the same time, his voice echoing in Harry's mind. He whispered terms of praise for Harry's blood and body that Harry could never remember afterwards, except for the taste of warmth they left behind. He whispered that Harry was more responsive, had such depths to his mind, fantasies that Harry had never known he had, fantasies that he needed to explore. But he could only explore them in the company of someone who could take him that deep.

Malfoy could.

Images came dancing into Harry's brain, too, as Malfoy fed, blowing like candleflames of their own. He saw the faces of Brewer, and Stone, and Tedrin, and how they had come dancing up to Malfoy, whether or not they knew they were engaged in the dance. He saw how they had come into dreams, and come in dreams. They had woken shaken, more than he had, because none of them held Malfoy captive and none of them knew exactly where the dreams came from.

When they did, they had been just as caught as Harry was, just as prone to surrender.

Harry gasped and dived into the images, making them splash around him, seeking the answer that Draco offered. Here, with his blood on the vampire's tongue and fangs slicing into his body and Draco granting him the sensation of being held down, unable to rise, that he had always wanted, there was nothing else to call him.

He saw how each of the missing ones, Brewer and Stone and Tedrin, had confessed that they didn't really like the lives they were living. They had little time to themselves, less time off from their jobs, too much pressure from their Departments to perform perfectly. They knew that even this minor surrender would be seen as a major sin.

And Draco had helped them. Had helped them to walk away from lives that were too oppressive and stifling, had helped them to disappear. There was no murder of vampires, all with the same dream-reading power. There was only Draco, powerful and able to help people who wanted to help themselves.

Harry knew, now. It was no wonder that the disappearances had been so complete. Not buried bodies and shallow graves, after all, but people who had training in going undercover and didn't want to be found.

The knowledge rushed through him like returning, stolen heat, and he was back in his body, aching with the pleasure, and the even greater thwarted pleasure that he knew Malfoy had taken from him. Malfoy overhung him with shining eyes and shining hair. His body was warm now, and as hard as Harry needed it to be.

"I thought it more than time for you to come back to yourself," Malfoy said, in a soft, warning tone, and swept a hand across his neck. Harry could feel a faint line from the new-bitten scar. He wondered if that would stay that way, and if he would walk out of here with a new scar. He wondered if he would walk out of here at all.

He didn't care.

"Now," Malfoy whispered, and bent over Harry. His hands were splayed out on Harry's wrists again, and he pressed down so hard that Harry gasped a little, working his body against Malfoy's hold. "Now. Resist me if you can."

Harry lunged up against his grasp, and squirmed, trying to get a leg out so that he could knee Malfoy in the groin. He didn't really want to, but Malfoy had told him to, and that was enough to stir a certain kind of desire.

He couldn't move, even though only Malfoy's knees were pressing down against his, even though only legs were resting on top of his legs. He tried to turn his head to the side, and only managed that for a centimeter or two before Malfoy moved his head a certain way and he couldn't do it anymore, either.

He tingled and gasped. Nothing had ever been able to resist him like this, and at the same time keep him so completely safe.

"You aren't struggling," Malfoy observed quietly, watching him with a pensive look that hid his fangs.

Harry didn't want to see that. He wanted to be reminded what was different about Malfoy, to be told, to be ordered, to be held down.

"That's because I can't, Malfoy," he said simply. "You're too strong--"

He cried out as Malfoy bit him again on the throat and tossed his head to the side. This bite gave him no pleasure. "What did I say?" he whispered, and this time did struggle in earnest. But Malfoy laid his neck down across Harry's, breathing bloodily into his face, and Harry couldn't do anything to turn away, except close his eyes. Which he wouldn't do.

"If you cannot call me Draco now, after all that we have done..."

Harry snarled in return, and then said, "You still haven't fulfilled my deepest fantasy, Draco."

"I fail to see what is lacking." Draco's voice was light again, and his hands flexed open on Harry's wrists, then shut. Harry almost smiled. Draco knew that he wasn't going to pull away, for the same reason that he had accepted Draco's overpowering him in the first place. He wanted to be here, and it wasn't in Draco's power to make him back away.

"The fantasies I had were always about a lover. You haven't fucked me yet."

"Hmm." Draco's tongue darted out to touch the bite wound on Harry's neck, and Harry nearly fainted, his head spinning with white spots. But he could hear Draco's voice on the other side of the glare. "There are some vampires that don't fuck their lovers. They think the slide of fangs into someone else's body is enough, that that is a more intimate joining than anything else they could do."

"Yeah, but you aren't like that." Harry mumbled it, turning his head so that his lips brushed against Draco's fangs and were cut open. He knew he didn't imagine Draco's little gasp as small streams of blood began to run down his chin.

"How do you know?" Draco's voice shook, rather like the hands that he lowered to run over Harry's body.

"Because I don't want you to be," Harry said. "And what I want matters to you, or you wouldn't have done this in the first place."

Draco paused and blinked. Then he laughed, and leaned back and up. Harry watched him breathlessly.

Draco raised one hand. His nails gleamed, long and sharp and glinting so hard that Harry found it difficult to focus on them. Draco reached out and slid his fingers gently from Harry's collarbone to his waist, touching only cloth all the way, not marking the skin beneath. Harry found himself breathing in time with Draco's fingers, and those nails didn't claw up his moving chest, either.

Draco tossed his shirt aside, and did the same thing for his trousers, although he had to arch up and reach behind himself to shred all the cloth. Harry moaned a little as the weight retreated, but Draco smiled at him, a smile like a chain, and Harry settled back against the pillows and waited.

Now that he had his answer as to what had happened to the people Draco had helped to disappear, he thought he could wait for any other thing that Draco wanted to give him.

Draco settled his hands with a sharp shake, and what was left of Harry's trousers and pants came with them and flew to a far corner of the room. Draco licked his lips and settled over Harry's groin. He didn't waste time, but reached out and placed one hand on Harry's wand, left beside the bed.

"May I?" he asked.

Harry grinned, dizzy, drunk with the pleasure of Draco's asking, and nodded. Draco cast the spell that coated his fingers with oil, and shrank his nails back to normal as he reached down to Harry's arse. Harry breathed out as he spread his legs, and it felt like the first time in his life he had ever really exhaled.

Draco smoothed his fingers in circles before he slid them in. They didn't go in completely without pain, but Harry was used to that. It was like the pain that he had felt when Draco was guiding his fangs into Harry's neck, anyway. No need to rebel against it, no need to thrash and scream and fight to get away. It was so wonderful, and he couldn't stop panting, opening his mouth to get in more air.

He got more of Draco's tongue instead, sliding around his teeth and learning them, and then his fangs, sliding along the cuts in his lips and opening them further. Blood slipped between them as they kissed, and the passage of Draco's fingers into his hole grew easier and easier.

Harry was fully open by the time that Draco sat back and lifted his pale cock in one palm. Harry realized that he didn't know when Draco had got naked, and it didn't matter. He had probably done it as they came into the room. What mattered was that Harry could see all of him now.

"Yes," Harry whispered, answering the final question as soon as he realized that it was a question.

Draco's cock breached him with a motion that simply didn't end. There was no bottom to this the way Harry had felt with his other lovers, no moment when his lover swore and said that he couldn't get in any further. There was just Draco, and when he did stop moving, Harry thought it was just because he had wanted to.

"Being seated in you is wonderful," Draco said. He didn't pant, of course; what breath filled his lungs was there simply to make him speak. He watched Harry between drooping strands of shining hair.

Harry nodded and kept his eyes open. He didn't know what Draco would do to him if he closed them.

With a smile that it would be easy to mistake for sweet, Draco began to rock. Harry moaned. Yes, Draco was deep inside, as deep inside as he had wanted to be, and as Harry had wanted him to be, and he wouldn't be leaving any time soon. Harry stirred a little, wanting what he wanted without knowing how to ask for it.

Then he had it. Draco lay down on top of him, clasping his wrists against the pillow again, without ceasing his easy thrusts inside Harry.

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. This was the way it had to be, the way he wanted it to be, the way he would have it--

Draco's right hand moved a little and gripped his neck, shaking it, and Harry started and opened his eyes again. Draco bent over him, fangs against his throat, and breathed, "You're going to look at me when I'm fucking you."

Harry nodded a little and opened his eyes further. This probably wouldn't last very long, anyway. Draco would fuck him and leave him.

But the movement of Draco's cock drove that out of his head, and then the graze of the fangs against the scar on Harry's throat, and then the sharp drive of his hips just when Harry had thought he was getting the rhythm. Every time that he did start to understand the rhythm, Draco would move to the side, or shift the tempo of his thrusts, or clamp a knee down over his ribs, and that changed things again.

There was pleasure building, pressure, warmth, but Harry wished he knew how to hold it off. He would give a lot to keep doing this forever, for nothing to change, and for everything to change, for Draco to anticipate the direction of his thoughts and always counter them and keep him pinned down.

But then Draco's back arched, and he shut his own eyes. Harry scratched the back of his nearest hand in response, or tried. His nails skidded off the warm skin as though it was actually metal instead of skin.

Draco grunted, whispered, "This is you, all you," and slammed his hips forwards hard enough to make Harry recoil. Then he did come.

And his hand shifted enough that his fingernails, if not his fangs, were pressing down on the line of the bite scar on Harry's throat.

Harry gave himself up to the expanding, burning cloud that rose to consume him. It whirled him around and roasted him from the inside out. The pleasure rose, and went on rising, with no breaking, with no plateau. His hands clawed at pillows, at air, at Draco's hands, at nothing, and the bed bucked beneath him with the continued arching of his back.

It was an experience too wonderful to give up.

*

Harry took his time in opening his eyes. For one thing, Draco was draped across him, warm with his blood and their fucking, and still casually holding him down, and that fulfilled that fantasy he had had for too long.

For another, he wondered whether Draco would really agree to do this with him again. It seemed that he was attracted to people who were dissatisfied with their jobs, and he could help them disappear. Then he might go on fucking them, Harry supposed, wherever they were and whoever they were now.

But Harry wasn't dissatisfied with his job, and he had no intention of disappearing.

He opened his eyes at last, because the warmth was fading and not even the force holding him down could last forever. It couldn't. He stirred and looked at Draco, and when Draco went on gazing at him, not blinking, because apparently a vampire didn't need to, Harry was finally moved to speak. "Well?"

"I was unaware that you had asked a question I had to respond to." Draco licked Harry's lips, then went on gazing at him from nearer.

"I--well, I don't know what to do," Harry said. "I can carry some tale back to the Aurors about how I found out that these people disappeared on their own, and let you go." Draco smiled in a way that suggested he had never thought Harry would do anything but let him go, which Harry found irritating. He gritted his teeth and continued, "But then what happens? Will I ever see you again?"

He winced at the whiny tone in his own voice, but decided to let it stand. Draco had already been inside his head, his blood, and his body. He wasn't any stranger to how much Harry needed this. Needed him.

Draco placed a casual hand around his neck. "I told you once that you were the most responsive of all of them," he breathed.

Harry nodded, holding his breath this time because he wanted to, not because he had to.

Draco smiled down at him, gently enough that Harry nearly despaired. He didn't know if Draco would be gentle with anyone he was thinking about staying with.

But then Draco ran a single curved nail down the side of his face, and whispered, "I enjoyed your blood. I enjoyed your fantasies. I enjoyed the way that you yielded to me because you wanted to. I shall have that again. I think I shall go on having that as long as I like."

Harry smiled. He wasn't worried about what Draco had said, in any way, because what Draco had said he wanted would only happen as long as Harry wanted it, too. It made it easier for Harry to start breathing again and reach up to clasp his hand around Draco's. "You'll escape?" he whispered. "And give me what evidence I need to prove that Brewer and Stone and Tedrin and the rest wanted to leave?"

Draco's eyes flashed, once. "That last was not part of our agreement."

Harry laughed at him. "We never made a formal one. Will you?"

Draco eyed him for long enough that Harry would have grown nervous, but Draco was still there, holding him down, and he was showing his fangs without grimacing, and Harry had confessed his desires and not been scorned for them. Harry felt that he could fly.

"As long as you remember that you can ask for things," Draco said at last, "but I give the orders."

How did I get lucky enough to find so much of what I wanted on a case like this? The possible disapproval of the Aurors didn't matter to Harry, not when he was sure that he could come up with a plausible lie that was close to the truth, and no one had been murdered, and Draco wanted him, and they would do this again.

Harry reached up and kissed Draco, hard enough, long enough, to cut his lips open again on Draco's fangs. Draco's tongue promptly darted out to scoop up the blood, and he leaned in, and Harry heard him whisper into his ear.

"Don't move."

Harry smiled, and did as he was told.

The End.