http://prairie-grass.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
prairie-grass.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hpvamp2006-10-01 11:09 pm
prairie-grass.livejournal.com) wrote in hpvamp2006-10-01 11:09 pm
Entry tags:
Dry My Tears - 03 Voldemort/Harry
Title: Dry My Tears - Chapter Three
Author: Page Russet (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
page_r )
Pairing: Voldemort/Harry, Jason/Draco, Anita/all her usuals as of Incubus Dreams
Rating: R
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, Laurell K. Hamilton, and other publishers, no money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Warnings: Non-con, Ardeur, Voldemort, violence
Word Count: 3,400~
Summary: (Crossover fic: Laurell K. Hamilton’s Anita Blake universe) Voldemort’sturned into sexy vampire, (Oooo!) Harry gets captured, (Oh Noes!) Chaos ensues (Aaah!) Contains: kitties, guns, Anita (+ gang), sex, biting, and a profusion of swearing. Enjoy!
Setting: 7th year following HP cannon till end of GoF, AB cannon till end of Incubus Dreams
Previous Chapters:
/ Chapter One / Chapter Two /
A/N for this chapter: Okay so, for the record, (because it could easily be mis-read and I don’t want to get people’s hopes up,) there is NO Harry/Draco in this fic. None. Nadda. Zero. Zilch. Okay.. well, they may have sex at some point later on, but there will be NO romance involved and they are JUST friends. Each of them is/will be paired with someone else which is quite clearly stated in the story notes. :) Thanks.
Also: LKH doesn’t very clearly state the rules regarding marking etc. (I know; I re-read practically the whole series looking for info on it.) So I may end up contradicting a few things without realising it. In Danse Macabre she says pomme de sangs can’t be animal to call in a triumvirate because it would be a power-drain. I started writing this before I read Danse, so I’m officially ignoring that fact. (Sorry to any rabid canon-fans, this is AU as of the end of Incubus Dreams anyway).
Oh, and, scientific fact: Big Cats (i.e. lions, tigers, leopards) can’t purr, they don’t have the right vocal cords. [Edit: They can't purr continuously like small cats, they can make the purr sound but only on the exhale and, (I'm pretty sure,) isn't used in the same fashion (i.e. when they're feeling safe and secure) as small cats use it.] However LKH has the were-leopards purring in her stories so I’m going to ignore science as well. (Coz like, purring is NEAT).
--
I already knew who it was before the first ring of the phone woke me.
There was some shuffling, groans and a thump before Nathaniel’s voice broke in, “Hello? ... Oh, Jean Claude, yeah, hold on,” he handed the phone to me.
I put the phone to my ear, reaching across the marks to taste fear and anger, “What’s wrong?”
“Ma petite. We have a... slight situation,”
I sat up, alarmed; a ‘slight situation’ was Jean Claude-code for, ‘DANGER! DANGER! HIDE THE CHILDREN! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!’.
He must have sensed my fear because he quickly said, “Don’t worry, ma petite, none of our people are in direct danger at this moment.”
“But?” I said.
“But I have been contacted by the council.”
I sucked in a breath, “What do they want?” Micah and Nathaniel were properly awake now, watching me with tense concern. Micah reached out to rub the base of my spine and Nathaniel placed a comforting hand on my thigh.
“They have come to a decision regarding some of the consequences of the death of the Earthmover.”
“What? I thought they decided we weren’t going to be punished for that!”
“Non, ma petite, they decided I was not setting up a council of my own. They were still deliberating over how to solve the problem made by my not taking my rightful place in the seat that the Earthmover once held.”
“But I thought you told them you didn’t want the place?” I put one hand over Nathaniel’s.
“I did. Unfortunately, it is not so simple as that,”
I repressed a snort, vampire politics could never, ever have the word, ‘simple’ applied.
“The council needs the seat filled, otherwise their voting system is off-balance; while it is within my rights to deny the seat, they have been unsure of how to fill it in my stead. None of the current council members are permitted to fill it with one of their own because this would tamper with natural allegiances. It seems they have decided that we must choose someone for the seat.”
Now that was a surprise. Confused, I asked Jean Claude, “But, isn’t that a good thing, that we can put whoever we want in the position?”
Jean Claude sighed, “It is not that easy, ma petite; no master I know who has the power and the mind to hold the seat is insane enough to want it. Any master I know that is insane enough to want it either hasn’t the power or is definitely someone we do not want there. I am at a loss for suggestions.”
“Damn.”
“Indeed.”
Even over the phone I could taste the frustration and fear in his sigh, “So what do we do?” I asked.
“I suspect the council anticipated this situation - for with their communication they sent us some information relating to powerful masters around the world who would be candidates for the position.”
“Oh. Um, is that a good thing?” I reached to absently stroke Nathaniel’s braid which was lying between us.
“It is good that we have some choice – some control of the situation, but unfortunately some of the candidates are masters that Asher and I are unfamiliar with. Although we can eliminate many simply through the information the council has given us, for those who are potentials we must consider a more thorough investigation.”
“What are you saying, Jean Claude?”
He sighed again, “I believe it is necessary for us to visit Britain.”
I frowned, “Us? Please tell me you are just talking about you and Asher, Jean Claude,”
“Non. For a visit of this magnitude it will be necessary to take most of our immediate people.”
“Our immediate people?” (We have so many these days), “What does that even mean?”
“You, myself, Asher, Jason, Micah. Nathaniel and Damian, several bodyguards and a few extra for food, most likely.”
I briefly wondered what it would be like to be taken on a trip simply as, ‘food’ but said only, “Not Richard?”
There was a pause, as if Jean Claude hadn’t been aware of leaving Richard out from the list.
I wasn’t fooled.
“As a member of my triumvirate; Richard will, of course, be invited.”
These days it was ‘his’ triumvirate, instead of ‘ours’ because I had accidentally made one of my own a few months ago (which I shouldn’t have been able to do, by the way). “But?” I said.
“But I doubt that he will want to come.” There was a brief pause, “Richard will need to stay to retain control of is pack at this time of internal upheaval.”
We both knew it was an excuse. Richard wouldn’t want to come because he couldn’t cope with being stuck in close quarters with everyone else that I loved. All the other monsters. I don’t think either of us wanted Jean Claude to try very hard to convince him to join the party. We all worked better when we took Richard in very, very small doses.
“What about the City? Surely the council can’t expect you to leave everything vulnerable to attack while we’re off in the U.K.?”
“As we will be officially away on council-related business, that makes our territory officially under the full protection of the council. All vampire-related politics, internal or external in this territory must hold until we return. Any attack here would result in immediate execution of the instigator and any who support them.”
“Sheesh. Good to know the council is thorough. Maybe we should go away on missions for them more often.”
“I do not think that would be a good idea, ma petite.”
I dug my fingers into Nathaniel’s braid and he leant down to place his head on my lap, rubbing his cheek against my thigh, “It was just a joke, Jean Claude.”
Jean Claude sighed again, “I know, ma petite, but I am not happy with these events. You know the council; we shall need all our resources to come through this safely.”
I echoed the sigh. The sad thing was; I did know the council, and I just wished I was still naive enough to think Jean Claude was exaggerating.
~..*..~
“A- A Snow Leopard?”
“Yup.”
“You- Me- I-” Harry put his head in his hands, “This is just a dream, right? I’m in potions class and Neville has blown something up and it’s caused me to have some kind of wacky dream that makes absolutely no sense and I’m going to wake up soon in a world where Dark Lords don’t kiss people and Vampires aren’t being covered in DADA NEWTS this year and Draco Malfoy isn’t trying to be nice to me and everything will be okay. Right?” he looked up pleadingly at Malfoy.
Malfoy just looked at him curiously, “Has that ever worked during any of your other mis-adventures?”
Harry groaned, “No.” He paused, “Oh, well, maybe once...”
Malfoy looked even more curious, “What-”
“Stop distracting me!” Harry yelled, “Voldemort has turned me into a SNOW LEOPARD!? This is ridiculous! Why they hell would he want to do that!? Why the hell hasn’t he just killed me!?”
Malfoy sighed, “It took the Dark Lord a long time to gain the knowledge and power that would allow him to become a vampire; the vampires have guarded their secrets well over the years, especially from Wizard-kind. Now that he has achieved his goal of immortality, our Master is settling in for the long-haul. He fully intends on being in power until the earth crumbles - and maybe even after. People in power are surrounded by symbology. What greater symbol could there be for him than to have the man that once almost destroyed him bound to serve him for eternity?”
Harry stared... There were too many questions to ask, each as important as the next, each new terror overwhelming in strength.
Malfoy grimaced, “Plus, you’ve grown up to be incredibly hot and now that he’s turned into an incubus he really wants to fuck you.”
Harry blanched, “I think I might be sick,”
Malfoy shifted with surprising speed to the end to the bed, “Don’t do that near me!”
My life is over. The universe has officially become too surreal to sustain my existence, I shall have to find some suicide method before the day ends.
“Whatever melodramatic thought is going through your head right now, Potter, you best let it go.”
“Huh?” Harry blinked and discovered Malfoy was standing near him holding out a glass of water, Harry reached out and drank some down automatically.
“You’ve got no choice now about what happens to you, you know, so you need to focus on just accepting it as best you can an moving on.” Malfoy said.
“Are you telling me to just ‘deal’ with the fact that the Dark Lord want to have sex with me?”
“What else can you do?” Malfoy reached his still-outstretched hand and ran it through Harry’s hair.
Harry sighed and leant into the hand, breathing in Draco’s scent. A part of his mind instantly soothed him with the words pard, friend, ally, safe, together, and the scent of snow and crisp clean air - reminding him of cold places he’d never visited.
Harry closed his eyes. “What is that?” he whispered.
“It’s the scent of the pard, Harry. Leopards may be solitary in the wild but you and I still half ape, and we operate in packs. As Lycanthropes these impulses combine, making each species desire to live in a... family group, I suppose. The Pard is the group a leopard belongs to. I am leopard to your leopard. We Run and Hunt together. We are Pard.”
Harry gasped as the formal-seeming words sent shivers down his spine. He looked up to find Draco’s grey eyes were suddenly clearer, shot with green and blue. Harry leant over to press his lips against Draco’s wrist, taking a long, deep breath in; dwelling on the scent there. A soft rumble worked it’s way up his chest then out Harry’s mouth; it seemed to mean something, because Draco dropped back down onto the bed and pressed into Harry’s side, leaning in to push his face into Harry’s neck, breathing deeply.
Harry murmured and copied the motion, ducking his head under Draco’s exposed chin, scenting the flavour of skin, sweat, blood, and... deeper: fur, musk, snow, air and home. Harry purred; feeling more than hearing the answering noise from Malfoy. This is my pard-mate...
...This is my pard-mate.
He’d never felt so safe in his life.
~..*..~
“If you two are quite finished rubbing all over each other--”
Harry looked up, startled from his thoughts by the cool voice.
Draco’s movements were much more relaxed, “Father,” he said in greeting, lifting his head.
“I trust you have ensured that Potter is adjusting to his transformation?” Lucius snapped at his son.
Draco’s fingers tightened ever so slightly in Harry’s hair, “Of course. The potion the Dark Lord proscribed meant his body accepted his beast, his mind only needs some time to catch up with the changes.”
The elder Malfoy sneered, “Just make sure he doesn’t take too long, we have better things to do than wasting time pampering the Boy Who Lived.” He glared at Harry, “For all the good it’s done you to survive, Potter. You’ll soon find there are worse things than death, here.”
Draco sighed, “Did you just come by to be nasty, Father, or was there another reason?”
Lucius stopped glaring at Harry and sniffed, “There’s no need to take that tone with me, boy. The Dark Lord as called a meeting; you, Draco, are to go to the throne room immediately, I’ll bring Potter down in a few moments.”
Fear trickled down Harry’s spine; meetings probably aren’t a good thing when you’re in the proverbial lion’s den, and the thought of being separated from the only person around here who seemed even remotely close to sane didn’t exactly appeal. Draco must have sensed his fear because he turned to Harry and smiled slightly, squeezing his hand.
No words of comfort were exchanged. They would only be lies, anyway.
As Draco was about to leave the room, he turned and looked at Harry seriously, “Remember what I said, Potter, it doesn’t do you any good to try and fight.”
~..*..~
“Well Potter, on your feet. The Dark Lord does not appreciate lateness.”
Harry was startled by the low growl that trickled from between his lips. He’d managed to keep his aggression towards the elder Malfoy down while Draco was around to distract him, but now Harry was remembering just how many times he’d fantasized about blowing this man into smithereens. (Not that he was sure if you could actually do that with magic, but that wasn’t the point).
Lucius sneered, “Theatrics will get you nowhere, Potter, never forget, you are a prisoner here.” His wand appeared, flicking violently through the air and Harry suddenly found himself being tugged out of the bed. He was so startled he barely noticed his nakedness.
“The physical bindings the Dark Lord placed on you when you first arrived are a charm that allows your masters to somewhat control your movements.” Lucius said by way of explanation, he eyed Harry’s pale skin with obvious distaste, “Merlin, I cannot understand why the Dark Lord would risk everything simply to capture your pathetic self, Potter,”
Harry blushed but fought the strong desire to cover himself – I’m not going to start showing fear to this bastard! He looked instead at the bindings still covering his wrists: they were no longer the solid steel they had felt like on the first night. Today they were black leather, inset with a large blue oval jewel on the back of each wrist. “They’ve changed,” he said.
“Their appearance changes as per your Lord’s will. He could make them totally invisible, but I believe he quite enjoys seeing you so visibly enslaved.” Lucius smiled then swished his wand again, a simple pair of black trousers appeared, “Dress. The Dark Lord awaits.”
Harry sighed and didn’t bother to ask where the top or the underpants were. He suspected he wouldn’t really enjoy the answer.
Harry was vaguely aware that his life seemed to get more bizarre by the day. He was truly terrified by all these vampires and were-whatevers and such, but he couldn’t see any way of getting out of the current situation. He had no wand, he’d been infected by a largely unknown virus, he seemed to have magical restraints that he guessed would prevent him from leaving or... pounding Lucius Malfoy’s head into a wall...
Harry smiled for a moment, imagining Malfoy’s head exploding on stone like an over-ripe pumpkin, blood and gore spilling everywhere, Harry leaning down to lap at the still-hot liquid-- What!? Harry blinked and a shudder ran through him, Where did that come from!?
Oh Merlin, somebody get me out of this nightmare.
“Come, Potter, we don’t have time for you to waste. He has summoned you and you must answer.”
“He hasn’t summoned me,” Harry snapped, tugging the pants up and buttoning them angrily, “I’m not some dog who comes when its master call-”
Just then a clanging ran through Harry’s mind, like some deep bell that was both too deep and too high to really hear but still made every muscle in his body tremble, “Come to me, my pet, I grow impatient to see you again.” The summons ran through him, firm and unquestionable, Harry closed his eyes and gasped, taking an automatic step towards the door.
“Not a dog, Potter,”
Harry opened his eyes and looked dazedly at Lucius.
“But you shall come, when called.” Malfoy turned and opened the door, “We all do.”
~..*..~
The room was much like Harry remembered it, save there was a little more light, a throne, and about one hundred death eaters clustered at one end. Eeep!
Harry had never realised there were so many people in Voldemort’s inner circle... and now every single one of them was staring at him... Double eep!
Harry hesitated at the huge double doors. He could see now that the room was a massive ballroom that must have been carved out of a cave. The walls and floors were made of wooden panelling but the ceiling arched above with jagged rock, somehow still looking beautiful with lights and candles hanging from stalactites. The fact that the ballroom’s large windows looked out onto blank stone was also a bit of a giveaway.
Malfoy shoved him forward, “Go forth and kneel before your master, Potter.”
Harry looked across the room; there, sitting on the throne like some sinful god, was Voldemort, Harry’s greatest enemy, and now his captor. Even at such a distance the red eyes pinned him, the voice whispered in his mind again, “Come to me, Harry Potter.” Harry gasped and found himself stumbling forward.
I suppose there’s really nothing else for it though...
He moved slowly up the aisle of red carpet that approached the throne, trying his best not to glance nervously at the clusters of masked and robed wizards that surrounded him, desperate to ignore the whispers of surprise and dark satisfaction. Once Harry was halfway down the aisle Voldemort stood gracefully.
“My friends,” he said, “A long awaited victory has been won.” The voice tasted of cultured chocolate with dark spices. “For seventeen years Dumbledore has hidden away the child who was involuntarily the catalyst in my downfall; using him as a banner for the fearful to flock to, a pawn in a game he does not understand.”
Harry was moving closer to the throne now, every time he thought about slowing, or turning tail and running like a mad idiot, those red eyes would pierce him again and a powerful tug would call him closer to his enemy.
“Although this child was little threat to me, I did my best to disable his status - by using his blood to resurrect my initial body. Unfortunately, Dumbledore and the Minister repressed the events of that fateful night and still used this boy to bring hope to the masses. Dumbledore taunted me with the child so public, but so untouchable, giving strength to his cause through this most obvious of ploys.”
Harry had reached the base of the throne. It was resting on a dais made of several slabs of rock, graduating up towards the chair - throws and silk cushions made the space seem utterly decadent.
His breath coming out in small gasps, Harry looked up into that stunning face.
“No more.” Voldemort said. “Kneel, Potter.”
I will not just give in to these people! Harry growled, but his lips refused to voice the denial so he flung his thoughts at the glowing presence in his mind, “No! I am not your slave!”
Voldemort’s lips twitched, “Wrong, Potter.” The mental presence smacked into his mind now like a kick to the gut, angry and powerful. Harry gasped and his knees buckled, sending him to the ground.
Ow.
He gulped for air, resting on his hands and knees as gasps echoed around the hall.
“Dumbledore has always placed his faith in Love, as if it could solve all the world’s ills.” Voldemort continued, “I have shown him the weakness of this foolish notion. Dumbledore placed Harry with his family over the summers, sure that the protection of blood and love would ensure Harry’s safety away from Hogwarts’ wards. This love meant that Harry grew up starved and beaten; this love meant that Harry felt unworthy of affection; a freak and an idiot. This love left Harry standing beside a road, unprotected, when my loyal Death Eaters surrounded him.” Voldemort reached out and cupped Harry’s cheek lightly, speaking softly, “What good has love done you, little one?”
Harry had to close his eyes at the despair that rode through him.
What good is a mother’s sacrifice if his life is lived out in Hell? What good is the love of adults, (godfathers and headmasters,) if they put ideals before reality? What good is the love of friends, if he will never see them again, if they can do nothing?
“That’s right, little one, you are quite alone now,”
Harry looked up into red eyes, “Now, little one, you only have me.”
--
:D what do you think? More evilness next chapter, and we find out why Anita 'n Co. are off to Britain (not that it isn't obvious, but hey.)
Also, I just posted a big wad of information explaining the Anita Blake universe, in case anybody wants to de-confuse themselves a little. (hopefully my tired-brain won't just confuse you more), it's here, should anyone want it.
--
Author: Page Russet (
page_r )Pairing: Voldemort/Harry, Jason/Draco, Anita/all her usuals as of Incubus Dreams
Rating: R
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, Laurell K. Hamilton, and other publishers, no money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Warnings: Non-con, Ardeur, Voldemort, violence
Word Count: 3,400~
Summary: (Crossover fic: Laurell K. Hamilton’s Anita Blake universe) Voldemort’sturned into sexy vampire, (Oooo!) Harry gets captured, (Oh Noes!) Chaos ensues (Aaah!) Contains: kitties, guns, Anita (+ gang), sex, biting, and a profusion of swearing. Enjoy!
Setting: 7th year following HP cannon till end of GoF, AB cannon till end of Incubus Dreams
Dry My Tears
A Harry Potter and Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter, Crossover Fanfiction
By Page Russet
Chapter Three
A Harry Potter and Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter, Crossover Fanfiction
By Page Russet
Chapter Three
Previous Chapters:
/ Chapter One / Chapter Two /
A/N for this chapter: Okay so, for the record, (because it could easily be mis-read and I don’t want to get people’s hopes up,) there is NO Harry/Draco in this fic. None. Nadda. Zero. Zilch. Okay.. well, they may have sex at some point later on, but there will be NO romance involved and they are JUST friends. Each of them is/will be paired with someone else which is quite clearly stated in the story notes. :) Thanks.
Also: LKH doesn’t very clearly state the rules regarding marking etc. (I know; I re-read practically the whole series looking for info on it.) So I may end up contradicting a few things without realising it. In Danse Macabre she says pomme de sangs can’t be animal to call in a triumvirate because it would be a power-drain. I started writing this before I read Danse, so I’m officially ignoring that fact. (Sorry to any rabid canon-fans, this is AU as of the end of Incubus Dreams anyway).
Oh, and, scientific fact: Big Cats (i.e. lions, tigers, leopards) can’t purr, they don’t have the right vocal cords. [Edit: They can't purr continuously like small cats, they can make the purr sound but only on the exhale and, (I'm pretty sure,) isn't used in the same fashion (i.e. when they're feeling safe and secure) as small cats use it.] However LKH has the were-leopards purring in her stories so I’m going to ignore science as well. (Coz like, purring is NEAT).
--
I already knew who it was before the first ring of the phone woke me.
There was some shuffling, groans and a thump before Nathaniel’s voice broke in, “Hello? ... Oh, Jean Claude, yeah, hold on,” he handed the phone to me.
I put the phone to my ear, reaching across the marks to taste fear and anger, “What’s wrong?”
“Ma petite. We have a... slight situation,”
I sat up, alarmed; a ‘slight situation’ was Jean Claude-code for, ‘DANGER! DANGER! HIDE THE CHILDREN! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!’.
He must have sensed my fear because he quickly said, “Don’t worry, ma petite, none of our people are in direct danger at this moment.”
“But?” I said.
“But I have been contacted by the council.”
I sucked in a breath, “What do they want?” Micah and Nathaniel were properly awake now, watching me with tense concern. Micah reached out to rub the base of my spine and Nathaniel placed a comforting hand on my thigh.
“They have come to a decision regarding some of the consequences of the death of the Earthmover.”
“What? I thought they decided we weren’t going to be punished for that!”
“Non, ma petite, they decided I was not setting up a council of my own. They were still deliberating over how to solve the problem made by my not taking my rightful place in the seat that the Earthmover once held.”
“But I thought you told them you didn’t want the place?” I put one hand over Nathaniel’s.
“I did. Unfortunately, it is not so simple as that,”
I repressed a snort, vampire politics could never, ever have the word, ‘simple’ applied.
“The council needs the seat filled, otherwise their voting system is off-balance; while it is within my rights to deny the seat, they have been unsure of how to fill it in my stead. None of the current council members are permitted to fill it with one of their own because this would tamper with natural allegiances. It seems they have decided that we must choose someone for the seat.”
Now that was a surprise. Confused, I asked Jean Claude, “But, isn’t that a good thing, that we can put whoever we want in the position?”
Jean Claude sighed, “It is not that easy, ma petite; no master I know who has the power and the mind to hold the seat is insane enough to want it. Any master I know that is insane enough to want it either hasn’t the power or is definitely someone we do not want there. I am at a loss for suggestions.”
“Damn.”
“Indeed.”
Even over the phone I could taste the frustration and fear in his sigh, “So what do we do?” I asked.
“I suspect the council anticipated this situation - for with their communication they sent us some information relating to powerful masters around the world who would be candidates for the position.”
“Oh. Um, is that a good thing?” I reached to absently stroke Nathaniel’s braid which was lying between us.
“It is good that we have some choice – some control of the situation, but unfortunately some of the candidates are masters that Asher and I are unfamiliar with. Although we can eliminate many simply through the information the council has given us, for those who are potentials we must consider a more thorough investigation.”
“What are you saying, Jean Claude?”
He sighed again, “I believe it is necessary for us to visit Britain.”
I frowned, “Us? Please tell me you are just talking about you and Asher, Jean Claude,”
“Non. For a visit of this magnitude it will be necessary to take most of our immediate people.”
“Our immediate people?” (We have so many these days), “What does that even mean?”
“You, myself, Asher, Jason, Micah. Nathaniel and Damian, several bodyguards and a few extra for food, most likely.”
I briefly wondered what it would be like to be taken on a trip simply as, ‘food’ but said only, “Not Richard?”
There was a pause, as if Jean Claude hadn’t been aware of leaving Richard out from the list.
I wasn’t fooled.
“As a member of my triumvirate; Richard will, of course, be invited.”
These days it was ‘his’ triumvirate, instead of ‘ours’ because I had accidentally made one of my own a few months ago (which I shouldn’t have been able to do, by the way). “But?” I said.
“But I doubt that he will want to come.” There was a brief pause, “Richard will need to stay to retain control of is pack at this time of internal upheaval.”
We both knew it was an excuse. Richard wouldn’t want to come because he couldn’t cope with being stuck in close quarters with everyone else that I loved. All the other monsters. I don’t think either of us wanted Jean Claude to try very hard to convince him to join the party. We all worked better when we took Richard in very, very small doses.
“What about the City? Surely the council can’t expect you to leave everything vulnerable to attack while we’re off in the U.K.?”
“As we will be officially away on council-related business, that makes our territory officially under the full protection of the council. All vampire-related politics, internal or external in this territory must hold until we return. Any attack here would result in immediate execution of the instigator and any who support them.”
“Sheesh. Good to know the council is thorough. Maybe we should go away on missions for them more often.”
“I do not think that would be a good idea, ma petite.”
I dug my fingers into Nathaniel’s braid and he leant down to place his head on my lap, rubbing his cheek against my thigh, “It was just a joke, Jean Claude.”
Jean Claude sighed again, “I know, ma petite, but I am not happy with these events. You know the council; we shall need all our resources to come through this safely.”
I echoed the sigh. The sad thing was; I did know the council, and I just wished I was still naive enough to think Jean Claude was exaggerating.
~..*..~
“A- A Snow Leopard?”
“Yup.”
“You- Me- I-” Harry put his head in his hands, “This is just a dream, right? I’m in potions class and Neville has blown something up and it’s caused me to have some kind of wacky dream that makes absolutely no sense and I’m going to wake up soon in a world where Dark Lords don’t kiss people and Vampires aren’t being covered in DADA NEWTS this year and Draco Malfoy isn’t trying to be nice to me and everything will be okay. Right?” he looked up pleadingly at Malfoy.
Malfoy just looked at him curiously, “Has that ever worked during any of your other mis-adventures?”
Harry groaned, “No.” He paused, “Oh, well, maybe once...”
Malfoy looked even more curious, “What-”
“Stop distracting me!” Harry yelled, “Voldemort has turned me into a SNOW LEOPARD!? This is ridiculous! Why they hell would he want to do that!? Why the hell hasn’t he just killed me!?”
Malfoy sighed, “It took the Dark Lord a long time to gain the knowledge and power that would allow him to become a vampire; the vampires have guarded their secrets well over the years, especially from Wizard-kind. Now that he has achieved his goal of immortality, our Master is settling in for the long-haul. He fully intends on being in power until the earth crumbles - and maybe even after. People in power are surrounded by symbology. What greater symbol could there be for him than to have the man that once almost destroyed him bound to serve him for eternity?”
Harry stared... There were too many questions to ask, each as important as the next, each new terror overwhelming in strength.
Malfoy grimaced, “Plus, you’ve grown up to be incredibly hot and now that he’s turned into an incubus he really wants to fuck you.”
Harry blanched, “I think I might be sick,”
Malfoy shifted with surprising speed to the end to the bed, “Don’t do that near me!”
My life is over. The universe has officially become too surreal to sustain my existence, I shall have to find some suicide method before the day ends.
“Whatever melodramatic thought is going through your head right now, Potter, you best let it go.”
“Huh?” Harry blinked and discovered Malfoy was standing near him holding out a glass of water, Harry reached out and drank some down automatically.
“You’ve got no choice now about what happens to you, you know, so you need to focus on just accepting it as best you can an moving on.” Malfoy said.
“Are you telling me to just ‘deal’ with the fact that the Dark Lord want to have sex with me?”
“What else can you do?” Malfoy reached his still-outstretched hand and ran it through Harry’s hair.
Harry sighed and leant into the hand, breathing in Draco’s scent. A part of his mind instantly soothed him with the words pard, friend, ally, safe, together, and the scent of snow and crisp clean air - reminding him of cold places he’d never visited.
Harry closed his eyes. “What is that?” he whispered.
“It’s the scent of the pard, Harry. Leopards may be solitary in the wild but you and I still half ape, and we operate in packs. As Lycanthropes these impulses combine, making each species desire to live in a... family group, I suppose. The Pard is the group a leopard belongs to. I am leopard to your leopard. We Run and Hunt together. We are Pard.”
Harry gasped as the formal-seeming words sent shivers down his spine. He looked up to find Draco’s grey eyes were suddenly clearer, shot with green and blue. Harry leant over to press his lips against Draco’s wrist, taking a long, deep breath in; dwelling on the scent there. A soft rumble worked it’s way up his chest then out Harry’s mouth; it seemed to mean something, because Draco dropped back down onto the bed and pressed into Harry’s side, leaning in to push his face into Harry’s neck, breathing deeply.
Harry murmured and copied the motion, ducking his head under Draco’s exposed chin, scenting the flavour of skin, sweat, blood, and... deeper: fur, musk, snow, air and home. Harry purred; feeling more than hearing the answering noise from Malfoy. This is my pard-mate...
...This is my pard-mate.
He’d never felt so safe in his life.
~..*..~
“If you two are quite finished rubbing all over each other--”
Harry looked up, startled from his thoughts by the cool voice.
Draco’s movements were much more relaxed, “Father,” he said in greeting, lifting his head.
“I trust you have ensured that Potter is adjusting to his transformation?” Lucius snapped at his son.
Draco’s fingers tightened ever so slightly in Harry’s hair, “Of course. The potion the Dark Lord proscribed meant his body accepted his beast, his mind only needs some time to catch up with the changes.”
The elder Malfoy sneered, “Just make sure he doesn’t take too long, we have better things to do than wasting time pampering the Boy Who Lived.” He glared at Harry, “For all the good it’s done you to survive, Potter. You’ll soon find there are worse things than death, here.”
Draco sighed, “Did you just come by to be nasty, Father, or was there another reason?”
Lucius stopped glaring at Harry and sniffed, “There’s no need to take that tone with me, boy. The Dark Lord as called a meeting; you, Draco, are to go to the throne room immediately, I’ll bring Potter down in a few moments.”
Fear trickled down Harry’s spine; meetings probably aren’t a good thing when you’re in the proverbial lion’s den, and the thought of being separated from the only person around here who seemed even remotely close to sane didn’t exactly appeal. Draco must have sensed his fear because he turned to Harry and smiled slightly, squeezing his hand.
No words of comfort were exchanged. They would only be lies, anyway.
As Draco was about to leave the room, he turned and looked at Harry seriously, “Remember what I said, Potter, it doesn’t do you any good to try and fight.”
~..*..~
“Well Potter, on your feet. The Dark Lord does not appreciate lateness.”
Harry was startled by the low growl that trickled from between his lips. He’d managed to keep his aggression towards the elder Malfoy down while Draco was around to distract him, but now Harry was remembering just how many times he’d fantasized about blowing this man into smithereens. (Not that he was sure if you could actually do that with magic, but that wasn’t the point).
Lucius sneered, “Theatrics will get you nowhere, Potter, never forget, you are a prisoner here.” His wand appeared, flicking violently through the air and Harry suddenly found himself being tugged out of the bed. He was so startled he barely noticed his nakedness.
“The physical bindings the Dark Lord placed on you when you first arrived are a charm that allows your masters to somewhat control your movements.” Lucius said by way of explanation, he eyed Harry’s pale skin with obvious distaste, “Merlin, I cannot understand why the Dark Lord would risk everything simply to capture your pathetic self, Potter,”
Harry blushed but fought the strong desire to cover himself – I’m not going to start showing fear to this bastard! He looked instead at the bindings still covering his wrists: they were no longer the solid steel they had felt like on the first night. Today they were black leather, inset with a large blue oval jewel on the back of each wrist. “They’ve changed,” he said.
“Their appearance changes as per your Lord’s will. He could make them totally invisible, but I believe he quite enjoys seeing you so visibly enslaved.” Lucius smiled then swished his wand again, a simple pair of black trousers appeared, “Dress. The Dark Lord awaits.”
Harry sighed and didn’t bother to ask where the top or the underpants were. He suspected he wouldn’t really enjoy the answer.
Harry was vaguely aware that his life seemed to get more bizarre by the day. He was truly terrified by all these vampires and were-whatevers and such, but he couldn’t see any way of getting out of the current situation. He had no wand, he’d been infected by a largely unknown virus, he seemed to have magical restraints that he guessed would prevent him from leaving or... pounding Lucius Malfoy’s head into a wall...
Harry smiled for a moment, imagining Malfoy’s head exploding on stone like an over-ripe pumpkin, blood and gore spilling everywhere, Harry leaning down to lap at the still-hot liquid-- What!? Harry blinked and a shudder ran through him, Where did that come from!?
Oh Merlin, somebody get me out of this nightmare.
“Come, Potter, we don’t have time for you to waste. He has summoned you and you must answer.”
“He hasn’t summoned me,” Harry snapped, tugging the pants up and buttoning them angrily, “I’m not some dog who comes when its master call-”
Just then a clanging ran through Harry’s mind, like some deep bell that was both too deep and too high to really hear but still made every muscle in his body tremble, “Come to me, my pet, I grow impatient to see you again.” The summons ran through him, firm and unquestionable, Harry closed his eyes and gasped, taking an automatic step towards the door.
“Not a dog, Potter,”
Harry opened his eyes and looked dazedly at Lucius.
“But you shall come, when called.” Malfoy turned and opened the door, “We all do.”
~..*..~
The room was much like Harry remembered it, save there was a little more light, a throne, and about one hundred death eaters clustered at one end. Eeep!
Harry had never realised there were so many people in Voldemort’s inner circle... and now every single one of them was staring at him... Double eep!
Harry hesitated at the huge double doors. He could see now that the room was a massive ballroom that must have been carved out of a cave. The walls and floors were made of wooden panelling but the ceiling arched above with jagged rock, somehow still looking beautiful with lights and candles hanging from stalactites. The fact that the ballroom’s large windows looked out onto blank stone was also a bit of a giveaway.
Malfoy shoved him forward, “Go forth and kneel before your master, Potter.”
Harry looked across the room; there, sitting on the throne like some sinful god, was Voldemort, Harry’s greatest enemy, and now his captor. Even at such a distance the red eyes pinned him, the voice whispered in his mind again, “Come to me, Harry Potter.” Harry gasped and found himself stumbling forward.
I suppose there’s really nothing else for it though...
He moved slowly up the aisle of red carpet that approached the throne, trying his best not to glance nervously at the clusters of masked and robed wizards that surrounded him, desperate to ignore the whispers of surprise and dark satisfaction. Once Harry was halfway down the aisle Voldemort stood gracefully.
“My friends,” he said, “A long awaited victory has been won.” The voice tasted of cultured chocolate with dark spices. “For seventeen years Dumbledore has hidden away the child who was involuntarily the catalyst in my downfall; using him as a banner for the fearful to flock to, a pawn in a game he does not understand.”
Harry was moving closer to the throne now, every time he thought about slowing, or turning tail and running like a mad idiot, those red eyes would pierce him again and a powerful tug would call him closer to his enemy.
“Although this child was little threat to me, I did my best to disable his status - by using his blood to resurrect my initial body. Unfortunately, Dumbledore and the Minister repressed the events of that fateful night and still used this boy to bring hope to the masses. Dumbledore taunted me with the child so public, but so untouchable, giving strength to his cause through this most obvious of ploys.”
Harry had reached the base of the throne. It was resting on a dais made of several slabs of rock, graduating up towards the chair - throws and silk cushions made the space seem utterly decadent.
His breath coming out in small gasps, Harry looked up into that stunning face.
“No more.” Voldemort said. “Kneel, Potter.”
I will not just give in to these people! Harry growled, but his lips refused to voice the denial so he flung his thoughts at the glowing presence in his mind, “No! I am not your slave!”
Voldemort’s lips twitched, “Wrong, Potter.” The mental presence smacked into his mind now like a kick to the gut, angry and powerful. Harry gasped and his knees buckled, sending him to the ground.
Ow.
He gulped for air, resting on his hands and knees as gasps echoed around the hall.
“Dumbledore has always placed his faith in Love, as if it could solve all the world’s ills.” Voldemort continued, “I have shown him the weakness of this foolish notion. Dumbledore placed Harry with his family over the summers, sure that the protection of blood and love would ensure Harry’s safety away from Hogwarts’ wards. This love meant that Harry grew up starved and beaten; this love meant that Harry felt unworthy of affection; a freak and an idiot. This love left Harry standing beside a road, unprotected, when my loyal Death Eaters surrounded him.” Voldemort reached out and cupped Harry’s cheek lightly, speaking softly, “What good has love done you, little one?”
Harry had to close his eyes at the despair that rode through him.
What good is a mother’s sacrifice if his life is lived out in Hell? What good is the love of adults, (godfathers and headmasters,) if they put ideals before reality? What good is the love of friends, if he will never see them again, if they can do nothing?
“That’s right, little one, you are quite alone now,”
Harry looked up into red eyes, “Now, little one, you only have me.”
--
:D what do you think? More evilness next chapter, and we find out why Anita 'n Co. are off to Britain (not that it isn't obvious, but hey.)
Also, I just posted a big wad of information explaining the Anita Blake universe, in case anybody wants to de-confuse themselves a little. (hopefully my tired-brain won't just confuse you more), it's here, should anyone want it.
--
no subject
no subject
But anyway, the statement still holds because the purring doesn't function in the same manner. :)
no subject
Also, I kind of remembererd my manners too late yesterday. I could have added something about the fact that I like the story, but n~o, of course I didn't, because I'm stupid, or at least rude. Anyways, I do like the story.
no subject
Hahaha, that's okay! I think the internet is great for making the most innocuous statements sound rude, so I wasn't fazed. I'm glad you're enjoying the story though!
no subject
no subject
This has to be my favorite chapter so far, Tom being naughty, Lucius being a bastard, and Harry being in denial. Got to love it.
no subject
Thank you! Tom is always naughty, and he just loooooves getting under Harry's skin. I'm enjoying figuring out how Lucius is reacting in this story. And Harry has got to be in denial, I think, otherwise his brain would be exploding. :D
Glad you're enjoying it so far!