hd_hols (hd_hols) wrote in hd_holidays,
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HAPPY H/D HOLIDAYS, CUTECOATI!

Author: okydoky
Recipient: cutecoati
Title: Malfoy the Vampire Slayer (Or How Harry Bit Off More Than He Could Chew)
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Summary: When Harry was assigned a case he couldn't quite handle, he knew exactly who to call. Draco Malfoy, Vampire Slayer.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warning(s): Language, bad puns and mild peril.
Epilogue compliant? EWE
Word Count: 6,400
Author's Notes: Happy Holidays, cutecoati, I hope you enjoy it! Thank you to I and H for looking at this for me, you are both amazing! :D





: :


Harry dragged his finger through the warm foam on top of his cappuccino. "So, Malfoy," he began, "how exactly does someone become an expert in vampires?"

"How do you think, Potter?"

For a second, Harry paused. He licked the foam milky bubbles from his finger, as he considered the possible answers to Malfoy's question. "Well, you're not a vampire so I don't know. I want to say something about sucking but I don't think it's appropriate. Is it?"

Malfoy sighed, and Harry's heart leapt in satisfaction. It had been ten years since they had completed their Eighth Year, ignoring each other the entire time. Well, apart from one enormous bust-up which ended with a broken rib for Harry and a fractured jaw for Malfoy. Somehow, Harry still felt a surge of something whenever he got one over on Malfoy. It felt good.

"No, it's not," Malfoy replied.

"So… you're a vampire slayer?"

"Potter, can we just… Explain to me what's going on." He gestured towards the board behind Harry's desk, and the piles of paper upon it.

"Fine," Harry said, his mood suddenly taking a turn for the worse. He plucked his wand from his holster, and shut the door. "Down in the morgue, we have four bodies."

"Right…" Malfoy's quill hovered over a sheaf of parchment.

"We believe that each of them died from blood loss, the cause of that being a vampire bite."

"Obviously, or I wouldn't be here. Where are the bites?" Malfoy sighed.

Harry frowned. He shuffled through the papers on his desk to the coroner's report. "It doesn't say, Malfoy, I assume the neck. That's where vampires bite, isn't it?"

"Well, yes, most do. But some vampires, usually the Eastern-Europeans, bite on the femoral artery in the thigh because the blood is richer. So don't assume, Potter. Where the vampire has bitten could be the key to the case," Malfoy said, forcing the words out.

In all honesty, Harry had no idea why vampires were such a big deal to Malfoy. Since school and after Malfoy had taken a year out travelling, Harry had heard on the grapevine that he had become a wee bit obsessed. He had done well out of it, there was no doubt about that - he was now Britain's foremost authority on vampires, and a highly valued member of the Ministry. Harry knew how well respected he was, and once the body count on his latest case had started to rack up, he had no scruples about calling Malfoy away from his research to help on his case. Hatred or not, Harry did what he had to to solve a case, even if that meant working with Draco Malfoy.

"Right, sorry," Harry conceded. "Do you want to see the bodies? Make sure the boys down there have haven't missed anything else?"

When Harry looked up, Malfoy's eyes were open comically wide.

"You're not scared, are you, Malfoy?" Harry teased, as he saw Malfoy freeze. "Don't worry, I'll protect you from the scary corpses."

Malfoy glared at him. It was familiar, like treacle tart and Hermione's disappointed sigh.

"Come on. No one else is going to die because of this vampire, Malfoy. If you're the expert, you need to check we've got the basics down first. We clearly don't, so shall we go?"

Malfoy stood, and as he slipped his parchment and quill back into his bag, he said, "I'm glad you're now grown up enough to admit you need my help, Potter."

"Nice to see you're still a condescending git, Malfoy," Harry muttered, but there was no heat behind his words.

"Lead the way," Malfoy said, holding his hand out as if Harry were royalty.

Harry got the impression that Malfoy was being sarcastic, but he walked out in front of Malfoy anyway. "Thanks."

He didn't need to look at Malfoy to guess that he was rolling his eyes, but he glanced over his shoulder anyway. Sure enough, Malfoy was rolling his eyes.

: :


Harry wrenched the door to the morgue open. There was no one there. The room was bare, all cold, gleaming metal and shiny white floors. Harry shivered involuntarily. He hated this place, but he dealt with it to get the job done.

He moved over to the drawers embedded in the wall, leaving Malfoy to stand suspiciously close to the door.

"They're dead, Malfoy, they're not going to bite," Harry called, then paused as he reviewed his poor choice of words.

Malfoy sighed again and pinched his nose. "Hilarious."

"Sorry, that one was completely by accident," Harry said with a shrug. He pulled the handle to the drawer, and a cloud of cold air enveloped him. The next three drawers did the same, and Harry was left shivering by the time they were all open. He was nearly one hundred percent sure it was because of the temperature, as well.

It took a minute for Malfoy to walk over. Harry could tell he was reluctant. Perhaps he had managed to find someone who was more creeped out by the morgue than him. Malfoy was definitely in the wrong profession if he didn't like a corpse or two.

"You didn't mention they were all women, either," Malfoy pointed out.

Harry had to take a deep breath before he walked over to the first drawer. He'd been an Auror for over ten years now, and he still hated this part of the job the most. Someone had once told him that the day he became unaffected by a dead body was the day he should quit. The first victim of their vampire had been a young girl of no more than nineteen called Claudia. She'd been found tied up and naked by her boyfriend – but she had been dead for hours by the time he'd discovered her. Malfoy pulled her hair away from her neck, and sure enough, there, on her bruised skin were two puncture marks from a pair of fangs.

"What does that mean, then?" Harry asked.

Malfoy frowned, and repeated the process on the other three women. They were all differing in age, ranging from Claudia's young nineteen to a thirty-six year old woman, who had left behind two children.

"Apart from that you clearly have no chance of solving this case without my expertise?"

"One, fuck off, Malfoy, and two…yeah."

"Language," Malfoy scolded dryly. "I'm not sure yet. They all have wounds on their necks, so we know we are dealing with a Western vampire – that is one from America, or Western Europe."

"Okay," Harry said, as he processed this information. "Well…"

Malfoy stepped away from the drawers, and picked up a sheaf of papers Harry hadn't seen him put down. "I think I've seen enough for now."

Harry pulled out his wand, and all of the drawers slowly shut. The atmosphere of the room seemed to brighten, and Harry was sure Malfoy let out a breath of air. They walked back to Harry's office.

"The mess in your office appears to have reproduced while we have been gone," Malfoy noted, wrinkling his nose.

Harry frowned at the stack of papers which were on the chair Malfoy had been sitting on, and definitely had not been there before they left. Malfoy picked them up and offered them to Harry, who took them. He groaned.

Okay, so Harry's office was a mess, but it was organised mess. Anyone that had seen his few square feet of Gryffindor dormitory would attest to that. Or his bedroom at home for that matter. A chill went down his spine at the thought of Malfoy in his old, school four poster, or standing naked at the head of his bed. It was not for thinking about in polite company. Especially when that company was Malfoy himself.

"What?" Malfoy asked.

"Applicants for the Auror programme next year, apparently by applying for a promotion, which isn't Head Auror, I signed up for doing half the Head Auror's work."

"They're grooming you for the job, Potter," Malfoy drawled, "you know it, and I know it."

Harry did know it, but he wasn't sure he wanted it. He had enough problems trying to have a social life as it was, never mind if he ended up being Head Auror as well. There was no denying he wanted the job one day, but not yet. Maybe when he was forty. He was twenty-eight, and he hadn't had sex in seven months. No matter how crude it was, he missed cock. A lot.

"Yeah, thanks, Malfoy." Harry sank into his chair. "Do you think pulling up the records of the vampires we have would help?"

"It's worth trying. Unfortunately, the usual suspects for this type of crime end up being the vampires who aren't registered with the Ministry anyway, but there is always the chance that one of them has stopped taking the synthetic blood and fallen off the broomstick so to speak," Malfoy said with a sigh.

"I'll get them then," Harry said.

Malfoy began to read over the files in more detail, and Harry pulled up the notes on the forty-seven vampires from the archives at the Ministry. When they had read everything and still had no suspects, they decided that as Harry would be automatically called as soon as report of another attack was received, that Malfoy would accompany Harry if there was a next time. Until then, they would spend part of the next week visiting the vampires on the Ministry list. Harry just hoped that this case was over soon – Christmas was in two weeks, and he would kill for a quiet one.

Harry sighed as he realised that he could end up working the night shift for what could be a very long time.

: :


"This is the last one," Malfoy noted, as he looked at the top sheet of paper on his clipboard. He seemed to be very big on stationery. Harry remembered how new and shiny looking every single one of Malfoy's quills looked. The light of the moon – it was almost full – shone on Malfoy. He looked luminescent.

They had been doing house calls on the vampires all week – useless house calls, as there had been no more attacks, and all the vampires had valid alibis. Their leads were running out, and they still had four bodies in the morgue with no suspects. Not only that, but Malfoy had begun to wear glasses. Glasses which he pushed up his nose with the end of his quill, and strands of his blonde hair rested on the black rims. Malfoy was the only male apart from Ron, that was his age, fit, and Harry spent time with. If Harry occasionally stared at Malfoy's arse while he was going upstairs, did it really matter? As far as Harry knew, Malfoy was straight, and unfortunately, that was that.

The more memorable house calls had included a visit to a recently turned vampire called Antonio, and he had finally lived up to Harry's stereotypical expectation. He was tall, dark and handsome, and ridiculously pleased to see Harry and Malfoy. Malfoy thought he was lonely. Also they came across a vampire couple who fascinated Harry, but Malfoy hadn't let him speak. Harry was beginning to see where Malfoy's fascination came from.

"I would give anything for this door to open and there be a killer vampire behind the it."

"What a lovely sentiment," Malfoy pointed out dryly, "Knock then."

"You knock."

Malfoy made a noise of disgust and rapped his knuckles on the door. A moment or two passed until the door opened.

Harry's preconceptions about what he thought a vampire was like had been completely destroyed over the last week of investigations. Through a combination of derisive comments from Malfoy when he displayed his ignorance of vampires, and the house calls, he had realised a few different things.

While vampires couldn't come out during the daytime – Buffy had taught him something – they were not all tall, dark and handsome, they could see their reflections in the mirror (Willow, however, had been wrong about that), and they didn't have Transylvanian accents. Who knew? He'd never come into contact with a vampire before, and despite all the articles in the news a few years ago about the Vampire Registry, there had never been an article about what vampires were really like. More's the pity. And Veritaserum wouldn't work on them. What was that all about? It did not impress Harry, and it made his job a lot harder.

The woman who opened the door was short, fat and middle-aged – in fact she reminded Harry slightly of Mrs Weasley, although he would never admit that out loud. She wasn't the killer, Harry could just feel it. Hermione had often told him that his instincts were key to his Auror abilities. It was just another useless house call they had to suffer through.

"Hello," Malfoy said, "I'm Draco Malfoy, and this is Harry Potter. We're here from the Ministry. Would it be possible to ask you a few questions?"

"You're the vampire bloke. I had to send my registration off to you," she said, looking shrewdly at Malfoy. To Harry, she sounded pretty miffed about the whole thing.

Harry snorted. The vampire bloke. That was one way to put it. Her dark eyes rounded on him, and almost entranced him, before he shook himself out of it. Malfoy had likened it to the Imperious Curse the first time it had happened, and that had eased Harry's fears. He could throw off that, so this should be no problem either.

"Yes," Malfoy replied slowly, drawing out the vowel. "You are Miss Frost, correct?"

"What's it to you?" she asked, folding her arms over her large bosom, and narrowed her small eyes.

Malfoy smiled. By now Harry recognised that beam of white teeth, and could almost imagine an implanted twinkle, as if Malfoy was nineties game show host, Dale Winton on Supermarket Sweep. It was his cheesy smile, his smile to charm and seduce someone into doing or saying what he wanted. It had blind-sighted Harry the first time, but he'd shook himself off and managed not to make a plonker of himself.

"Like I said Miss Frost, just a few questions, it will only take a moment or two of your time and we will be on our way."

"What's he here for?" she asked, jabbing a chubby finger in Harry's direction. Harry tried not to let his resentment show on his face. This was Malfoy's job for Merlin's sake, he was a lot more used to dealing with pissed off vampires than Harry. It, unfortunately, made sense.

"Two minutes," she said grudgingly. Miss Frost let the door open a couple of inches to let Draco and Harry in. They squeezed past the door into the dark house. Ms. Frost shuffled along the worn carpet into a room Harry had to assume was the living room.

A fire was ablaze in the hearth, giving the whole room a strange glow. The light caught Miss Frost the wrong way; it highlighted the pale and sallow skin of her face, and Harry suddenly noticed two scars on her neck. That had to have been where she had been bitten. His stomach lurched. The last few days had elicited no fear from him at all, but today… something was wrong. He slid his hands into his robes, his fingers curling around a stake and his wand.

However, in the conversation that followed, it became clear that while Miss Frost gave Harry the creeps, she had an alibi for each and every death. And that was that. Then, just as Harry thought about standing up, and thanking her for her time, there was a loud, hurried knock at her front door.

Harry swung his gaze to her – her nostrils were flared.

"One minute," she grunted. She walked away – Harry hesitated in calling it waddling, but it was close – and shut the living room door behind her.

Harry grappled in his pockets for a second, and pulled out two long strings. Extendable Ears. He threw one to Malfoy, who swiped it from the air with pretty refined reflexes. They both moved over to the door, and put the end up against the door, and the other end in their ears.

"What are you doing here?" they heard Miss Frost hiss.

"I told you I was coming round," a man said, his voice gravelly and low.

"You said later tonight!" she muttered under her breath.

"It is late. Look, listen –"

"Shhh, quiet." She cast a Silencing Charm, but the Extendable Ears overrode it. "There's two Ministry blokes in there, asking me questions."

"Oh, shit. Everything all right?"

"Yeah, don't worry about me. Have you got the, er, stuff?"

"Yeah. You, er, need to pick it up from Donaldson Street, yeah. You know when?"

"Got it. You better be off, I'll, er, see you soon."

Harry glanced at Draco, who was frowning. He pulled the Extendable Ear from his ear before Miss Frost came in and caught them. Falling back into his seat, he hissed, "Get over here, Malfoy."

Malfoy waved him away, before shoving the string in his pockets. He sat back next to Harry.

Harry had no idea what they'd just heard, but now wasn't the time to talk about it. They'd leave then discuss. He picked up a cigarette packet from the side, and turned the purple packet over in his fingers.

The door opened, and Miss Frost came back through.

Harry stood up, followed by Draco.

"Well, thank you, Miss Frost," Draco said. "I think we've heard everything we need."

She looked at him suspiciously, but nodded and showed them to the door, slamming it behind them with not another word.

: :


“Well, what do you make of that?” Harry asked.

Malfoy pinched his nose, rubbing at the marks that indicated where his glasses had dug in. “At the end of all of this we’re going to kick ourselves. It’s not going to come together until it’s over.”

“You felt it too? Something about it mattered, but on the surface… it’s all just casual conversation for the moment.”

“Exactly. Miss Frost… I don’t know. Her alibi checked out, and I didn’t get a sense off her of anything particularly untoward. Not the killing vibe.”

Harry let out a strong breath of air. Malfoy was right, after all this was over, they were going to be so annoyed that they didn’t see the relevance of one of those innocuous little comments.

“Right,” he said, “Let’s go and have a drink in here and go over everything that we overheard on the Extendable Ears and see if we can figure it out.”

Malfoy raised an eyebrow as he surveyed the bar Harry had stopped in front of. “In here?”

“We need a change of scenery,” Harry decided. He grabbed Malfoy by the elbow and led him inside. The bar turned out to be quite a posh one, and they were led to a booth by a tall young man at the door. He winked at Harry as he sat down, and Harry offered a small smile back. He was pretty fit.

Malfoy snorted as soon as he walked away to fetch their order.

Harry started at the sound of Malfoy’s disapproval.

“What’s that for?” Harry asked, baffled. He slipped his suit jacket off. The last week had seen Harry and Draco both donning Muggle suits in order to fit in: many of the vampires they had visited lived in Muggle areas. Harry had got to dress Malfoy and it had been a very enjoyable experience.

Malfoy shook his head. “You’re just so out there about your sexuality, Potter. Would it kill you to practice a little discretion?”

“I only smiled at him,” Harry blurted out, his head spinning. What on earth did it have to do with Malfoy? Maybe he should ask. “Why the hell does it bother you so much?”

Malfoy looked at him, a scathing look which pierced Harry, and seemed to hold his heart in a tight grip. “It doesn't bother me, Potter,?”

A flood of ice cold something flushed through Harry’s body, settling in his toes, and his stomach. “You’re… you’re gay?”

Malfoy’s nostrils flared. “Yes, Potter.”

“I thought you had a girlfriend!”

“No,” Malfoy said. His tone made Harry feel about an inch tall, at the same time as feeling so excited his heart might burst from his chest it was beating so fast.

The waiter came over and placed two glasses of champagne on the table, along with the wine lists. Malfoy picked it up, glanced at it and handed it back. “The 1998 Merlot, please. Two glasses.”

Harry was surprised. This meant they were staying, although it looked like Malfoy would storm out at any moment.

“Malfoy…”

“Just shut up for one minute, please, Potter.”

Harry shut up. He sipped at his champagne as he watched Malfoy taking deep breaths. He looked like he was calming himself down, or psyching himself up for something.

“I’m gay, Potter.” Harry could hear an unspoken but.

“And?”

“And I’m interested in… you.” He looked poised to take flight.

The bubbles of the champagne went down the wrong way, and Harry began to cough as the words registered in his mind. “Me?”

“You.”

Harry’s first thought was whether they would get away with having sex on the table, but unfortunately for Harry’s libido, his professional side took over.

“Malfoy -”

“Oh, fuck this, I’m leaving,” Malfoy said, getting up and sliding his arm into his jacket.

“Malfoy, sit the fuck down and let me talk, you owe me that after dropping that bombshell on me, all right. I didn’t even know you were gay, so just… Sit,” Harry demanded.

Malfoy sat.

“Right,” Harry said, amazed Malfoy had done as requested. “Apart from the fact that I can’t exactly offer you a confession of my feelings for you – just because I didn’t think there was any point, as in my mind you were straight – this is slightly inappropriate because we are working on a case at the moment -”

“Oh don’t start on appropriate, Potter, I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

“Yeah, I look at you, Malfoy, you’re fucking gorgeous. We can’t just rush into something. There’s so much riding on this case. Your credibility, my promotion, a lot,” Harry insisted.

There were a few moments of silence while Malfoy dipped his finger in the condensation which had dripped from his glass. Harry watched as he made patterns from the water before wiping them away.

“You’re putting your job in front of your personal life?” Malfoy sounded neutral. Harry would have done anything for a look inside his head.

“No. Well yeah, but not really. Just for a couple of weeks while we finish up this case. Please, give me a chance.”

Malfoy raised his head, and he had a slight smile on his lips. Harry had to stop himself jumping over the table and attacking Malfoy’s throat with his tongue. “After this case… we will discuss it. You’re right to put the case first, Potter. We’d be too… distracted.” Harry watched as Malfoy took a sip of his champagne, and the way the muscles in his neck moved as he swallowed. He shifted uncomfortably.

Malfoy was smirking, a knowing look in his eyes.

“I hate you,” Harry muttered. He drank a significant amount of his champagne in one mouthful.

“Of course you do. Right, the man in the hall,” Malfoy said, swiftly changing the subject at exactly the right time.

“Yeah. I got the name of the street. It’s not one I’ve ever heard of, have you?”

Malfoy sighed. “No. We’ll have to try and get some surveillance on the area when we find out where it is. I don’t know how comprehensive it will be.”

“I know, we’ll be fine until Christmas Eve and then we’ll struggle.”

“There aren’t often serious crimes on Christmas Eve,” Harry said. “I’ve spent the last four on call and burglaries are all I’ve had to deal with. Although I’ve probably just jinxed it.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “We can set up the spells for those few days. Are you in at all over Christmas?”

Harry hated having the monitoring spells on him. They were draining and made him ridiculously tired until they had been taken off. The spells were a fairly recent development from some obscure department in the Ministry. They had been introduced a couple of years after Harry had qualified, and had revolutionised the way Aurors tracked cases. Now, they could cast charms which alerted the on-call Aurors when a particular area was being disturbed, or if someone on bail relapsed. There were a lot of uses, and Harry was very thankful for them. He couldn't imagine how difficult the job had been before them.

“No Christmas Day unless anything major happens with this case. I’m in on Boxing Day, though,” he said with a groan.

“No excessive amounts of eggnog at the Weasley’s this year, then?”

“Just Ron, Hermione and the kids this year,” Harry said with a smile. “A lot quieter. I’m supposed to be with the whole family on Boxing Day if I can make it.”

“You might be lucky,” Malfoy said quietly.

“I hope so.” Harry stretched his arms up, his stomach briefly being touched by cool air.

Malfoy let out a long breath. “Put yourself away, Potter.”

Harry laughed. “You love it.”

“Mmm,” Malfoy said, sounding sceptical. But Harry could tell he was joking. If being in a relationship with Malfoy was going to be like this, Harry couldn’t wait to begin.

: :


Two weeks later, Harry was woken up by a loud beeping noise, and to an uncomfortable and unexpected erection.

It was the vampire alarm. A report had come into the Ministry of another attack. It was late Christmas Eve, just an hour or two until Christmas Day arrived. Harry rolled over, taking in a deep breath before grabbing his wand and sending his Patronus straight to Malfoy.

He fell out of bed and into his uniform without realising he'd moved, and Apparated before he'd done his trousers all the way up.

A cup of coffee was handed to him as soon as his equilibrium re-balanced.

"Thanks, Karen," he said with a yawn, as the paper cup immediately heated up his hands. "Malfoy in yet?"

There was a pop of Apparition and Harry spun around. And there Malfoy was, looking for all the world as if he'd just stumbled out of bed in the midst of a fantastic shag.

"I'm here."

Harry groaned and drunk as a large gulp of coffee as he could manage, and watched as Karen passed Malfoy a cup of coffee too. She picked up a piece of paper.

"It’s on Donaldson Street, London. These are the co-ordinates," she told them, shoving paper at them.

"Fuck," Harry said, and Apparated away. His coffee cup fell to the floor and the liquid spread across the while tiles. Malfoy followed in a heartbeat.

: :


When Harry Apparated to the co-ordinates, he appeared in an alley, lined with skips and wheelie bins. Harry could see homeless people squeezed between them, doing anything to keep themselves out of the bitter wind. At the far end of the alley, was another figure, standing.

Harry stalked down the alley, stamping in puddles and crushing polystyrene boxes as he went. He vaguely heard Malfoy hurrying to keep up with him.

"Stevens," Harry said with a nod. The blood was rushing in his head. He was furious with himself for allowing this to happen again. They had known something about Donaldson Street, even had surveillance, but it hadn't helped. "How has this happened?"

Stevens stepped out of the way to reveal a body behind him. It was shrouded in shadows, but Harry recognised the body. Miss Frost.

"Draco," Harry muttered.

"She was a vampire, too," Draco muttered. "It doesn't fit the pattern."

"Did the vampire get away?" Harry asked.

"Hunter took off after him on foot, I think he's going to try and bring him around in a circle. Keep an eye out," Stevens said.

Harry pulled his wand from his pocket, where his fingers had been curled around it. Malfoy bent down to look at the body. There was a stake through the chest of Miss Frost, and a bite mark on her neck, with a blood stain coming from it.

"Why would they bite her?" Malfoy fumed. "She was a vampire, it makes no sense. Unless… she was in the wrong place at the wrong time and they didn't realise she was a vampire. But… that would make it a coincidence that we overheard the name of this street and her being here."

Harry shook his head. "It's connected, it has to be."

Malfoy sighed. "Yeah. Have you got your stake, Potter?"

Harry patted his pocket.

"Get it out, just in case." They shared a look, and Harry did so without a word.

With his stake in one hand, and wand in the other, Harry and Stevens began to seal the scene, casting preservation spells and sending Muggles away from the site. It was an odd sight to see all of the homeless people purposefully leaving the alley at once.

They had been in the alley a few minutes when it began.

There was another pop of Apparition, then another, and the two characters set off running.

"That's Hunter," Stevens yelled, taking off after the pair.

"Malfoy, stay with the body," Harry yelled as he began to run as well. He glanced back around to see Malfoy getting up from his crouched position on the floor, casting a spell and taking off after Harry. It didn't surprise him that Malfoy ignored him, but he was slightly disappointed. But at the same time, he'd only ordered Malfoy away because of his burgeoning feelings for him.

They alley turned out to be quite short. They soon had the vampire backed against a wall. Harry had his stake raised, as he advanced towards the vampire.

Harry lunged forwards, aiming his stake for the vampire's chest. He heard Malfoy shout, "No!" as he missed, and he was hit in the face by a cold, pale fist. Blood dripped down his face. His nose was definitely broken.

The dark figure advanced on Harry, but he managed to duck, coming up behind, and grabbing him around the throat.

He struggled, kicking at Harry, hissing and spitting. Harry felt an elbow connect with his stomach, and he was temporarily weakened, and his grip loosened on the vampire.

Before he knew what was happening, something, someone had jumped on the vampire, and they all fell to the ground.

"Fuck, Malfoy," Harry yelled, and he grappled with the stake, before plunging it down, straight into the chest of the vampire.

It let out a scream, and began to shudder as blood began to seep from the wound.

Harry pulled Malfoy off as the vampire twisted and turned in agony, before stopping suddenly.

There was silence, and an eerie calm came over the alley way.

"Shit," Hunter said.

Harry tried to catch his breath as he held onto the sleeve of Malfoy's robes for all his life.

"Harry, are you all right?" Malfoy whispered, as Hunter and Stevens crowded around the body, casting spells over the corpse.

"I'm… yeah. No. Are you, did he get you?"

"Oh shut up, you're the one who got a punch in the face," Malfoy said, and twisted in Harry's arms. He put his fingers on Harry's cheek.

Harry winced.

"Sorry," Malfoy muttered.

"Sir," Hunter called. "We need to get these bodies back to the Ministry."

The moment was broken, and Harry and Draco broke apart. "Yeah, yeah we do. See if we can sort this mess out as well."

"It's Christmas Day," Malfoy whined.

Harry glanced at his watch. "Oh… yeah. Happy Christmas, Malfoy."

"Happy Christmas, Potter."

: :


"Potter, it's Antonio," Malfoy said as Hunter levitated the body into the morgue. He laid the body down on the steel table, as Stevens did the same with Miss Frost.

"Antonio?"

"The vampire you were drooling over. He was one of the first we visited."

Harry felt sick as he took a couple of steps over to the table. He dismissed Stevens and Hunter, telling them it was Christmas, they should be with their families.

"Antonio was the killer?" Harry repeated. His voice sounded hollow, even to his own ears.

"Yes. Can I go too, Potter?" Malfoy asked. He perched on the edge of the table, and looked down at the pale, prone body of Miss Frost.

"I'm afraid you're stuck with me," Harry said, and the two of them shared a not entirely appropriate look.

"Mmm," Malfoy said, and sighed, before smiling at Harry. He jumped off the table and moved to stand next to him.

"There's just a few things I don't understand-"

"Potter, you weren't to know it was Antonio," Malfoy soothed. He put his hand on Harry's forearm and stroked the skin of his wrist a couple of times, before dropping his hand back beside his waist.

Harry shook his head. "I should have known. There had to be something we missed."

"There wasn't," Malfoy said sharply. "He was just a normal bloke, there was nothing suspicious about him, so stop beating yourself up. Just thank God we overheard Donaldson Street at Miss Frost's house."

"Why did we?" Harry asked, and he began to pace the room, his eyes never leaving the bodies. "Why were we hearing that place in her house, and why was she bitten?"

"I don’t know, Potter."

Harry sighed. "I know." The door opened, and the pathologist walked through. "We should go and fill in the paper work for this. It'll be quicker if we both do it… will you help?"

Malfoy waved him off. "Don't be ridiculous, of course I will."

Harry turned to the pathologist. "Sorry about calling you out today," he apologised. "Will you send up the reports as soon as you can?"

"Yes, boss," the man said, saluting, and disappearing through a door at the back of the room to change his clothes.

Together, Harry and Malfoy headed upstairs, picking up coffee and pastries as they went.

Harry sat down heavily into his chair, and he watched as Malfoy stared at the chair which had become his.

"Potter, there's more stuff in my chair."

Harry groaned and pulled his wand out, levitating it out the way.

Malfoy fetched the forms they needed before sitting down. Malfoy pulled out another new quill, and Harry had to hide a smile at the sight of the turquoise feather.

They worked in silence until a series of flying paper cranes began to attack Harry's hand.

"Jesus Christ!" Harry exclaimed, trying to pull them from the air.

By now, Harry knew the sound of the breath of air that Malfoy let out when he was rolling his eyes. Harry knew that sound – he didn't have to look anymore to know the look Malfoy had on his face.

He undid the folds of paper as Malfoy plucked the other one, which was now flying around his head.

"Antonio was selling drugs. They found Black Nightshade in his pockets," Harry read.

"What an idiot. There was Black Nightshade in Miss Frost's system, as well. There was in another woman's as well, do you remember?"

Black Nightshade was a legal drug when taken in small quantities. Possessing over twenty five millilitres of the black liquid was illegal, and it was highly addictive. At the moment, the Wizengamot was full of people trying to push through a law to make possession, manufacturing and taking of the drug completely illegal.

"He was selling them drugs and then killing them," Harry said in horror.

"The drugs were just a way to get women down dark alleys with him."

"Wait –" Harry said, shaking his head. "We don't know the others were taking drugs."

Malfoy sent him a scathing look. "We don't. But we can't go and question these people's families now. It's Christmas Day, Harry."

Harry looked up at the sound of his first name coming from Malfoy's lips. "I know, I know. It's just frustrating."

"Jesus, it's four o'clock already."

Harry groaned. "I've missed dinner at Hermione and Ron's."

"Lunch was at three at home," Malfoy offered as well. He looked glum, and was plucking the feathers from his quill.

Harry reached over and took it from his grasp.

"I've got chicken at home. Want me to try and whip up a quick dinner? I do a mean roast."

Malfoy looked up at him from underneath his fringe, and Harry had the urge to jump over the table, rip his glasses and clothes off and kiss him until they both forgot who they were.

"That would be… nice," Malfoy said.

Harry smiled, and absently began to hope that today, his Yorkshire puddings actually worked. He walked around his desk to stand next to Draco, his robe over his forearm. His heart skipped a beat as he reached around and put his other hand on the small of Malfoy's back.

He turned to Harry, an eyebrow raised.

Harry blushed. "Do you want me to…"

Malfoy shook his head. "No, you're all right."

It occurred to Harry that their faces were suddenly very close together, and he couldn't help glancing down at Malfoy's lips. Before he could apologise, Malfoy's lips were on his. Harry pulled Malfoy flush to his chest, and Malfoy's tongue was on his lips, and at some point he'd opened his mouth, and they were kissing, actually kissing.

Harry had to make himself pull away. He rested his forehead on Draco's for a second, staring into his eyes, a smile on his lips.

"Come on, Draco, we better go," Harry said. "Although I expect something in return for this dinner."

"Oh?" Malfoy said, sounding wary.

"I think I deserve the story of your vampire obsession now. And are you actually a vampire slayer?" Harry grinned.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "It better be a damn good roast."
Tags: [fic], ewe, rated: r, round: winter 2009
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