Title: Prime Steak
Paring: Harry/Draco, Vampire!Werewolf!Harry.
Summary: Draco waits for the death that's been chasing him in the darkness.
Warnings: Blood!play, cannibalism, angst, un-betad but checked thoroughly.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K.Rowling, I'm making no money with this.
Draco sat in the dark on a small outcropping of rocks, looking over the serene still lake that ran through the grounds of his home. The wind was gentle and cool, softly ruffling his hair, the near full moon and sparkling stars reflected brightly in the lake's surface. It was quiet, save for the very distant screams of a village in the far distance, the red and yellow glow of fire teasing the horizon, as if it were a false sunrise. Behind him Malfoy Manor lay in ruins, ivy growing over the desolate stone, the grass wild and untamed.
Despite the horror this place held in his memories, it was still his home, and Draco wanted to be here in his hour of death. He knew Harry was coming, knew he'd been searching for him ever since he had killed his parents, right here in the Manor, but Draco didn't blame him for that. Harry didn't have a choice after all, he didn't know what he was doing, trapped in his own hell.
Draco had run for so long, run away from Voldemort and the death he knew was chasing him in the darkness. But he was tired now, tired of running, of hiding. He didn't even know why he was hiding in the first place, he had nothing left to live for after all, it was just cowardice, and besides, who would want to live in this world?
A world where Harry Potter had not only failed to kill Voldemort, but had fallen into the grasps of an attack by four vampires and two werewolves all at once, his neck practically torn to shreds, his body ravished by hungry claws, his screams echoing around the burning remains of the once proud Hogwarts Castle, telling the remaining fighting survivors that their last hope had been lost, and telling Draco that his love was gone.
And now, 2 years later, what was left of the world coward in fear from Voldemort's rule, and his right hand man, a certain powerful creature once known as Harry Potter, part werewolf, part vampire, his living memories gone, and who prowled the lands at night on Voldemorts command searching for any remaining resisters. Those he found were killed instantly, those once innocent green eyes now shining with blood lust, staring into the terrified souls of his capturs before tearing their throats apart, leaving pools of blood behind him where ever he went.
The last Draco had seen him was a few months after Harry's attack. Harry was standing over the bodies of Ron and Hermione, both laying face down in the mud from the onslaught of rain that pounded down on them. Blood was dripping from Harry's lips, the rain washing the blood off his claws as the full moon just peaked out from behind a black cloud. He didn't fully change into a werewolf, being part vampire. Just had the claws, sharper teeth, and his always casually messy hair now a mane of tangled black running half way down his back.
Draco had been hiding in the bushes and trees behind them at the time, cowering as he always did, watching in terror as Harry howled into the night, before bending down and...
Draco had turned and ran at that point, hand over his mouth to try and prevent the sickness that rose in his throat, unable to watch as the one he had loved ate the remains of his best friends.
But now Draco was sick of running, and had now come to face his long awaited death.
The screams in the distance seemed to be getting louder, closer. Harry's army of vampires and werewolves, all people he had bitten himself, must be nearing, but Draco was no longer afraid. He continued to stare out at the water, breathing in the fresh cool air, savouring the moment before Harry would find him.
There was a rustle in the trees behind him, heavy breathing, and Draco smiled.
He turned and watched quiet calmly as the most feared beast came into view from the trees. Although the moon looked full, it still wasn't quite, and the vampire side of Harry was more prominent, though the signs of the werewolf were beginning to show.
The claws on his fingers were small, almost nail like, but he crouched as he walked, stepping towards Draco with the help of his hands, like a four legged animal readying to pounce. The paleness of the vampire made his skin looked deathly white, such a contrast to the jet black hair that was currently shorter just reaching his shoulders, unwashed and unbrushed, parts matted with dried blood, but still falling in front of those bright green eyes just like it always used to do.
Draco almost laughed to himself. Those eyes looked so wrong on the beast in front of him now, but he could still remember the kindness those emerald eyes had once shown him, the acceptance during that one night together, the one night that had been all it took for Draco to fall in love with him.
The night before Harry was attacked.
"How've you been?" Draco asked casually, as if he wasn't talking to a murderous creature, but to a long lost friend, "I hear your army has wiped out pretty much everyone. You must be as good of a leader now as you were before. Voldemort must be proud of you."
The werewolf snarled at him, but only the vampire teeth were sharp, pointed and wanting blood.
"It's almost a full moon, you must be agitated, waiting for the full change." Draco smiled at him, "I'm glad you're not a werewolf tonight, at least you look more human as a vampire then you do a werewolf."
Harry stopped a few feet from Draco, the corner of his lips twitching upwards, changing his snarl to a smirk.
"I know what we did together. Draco." Harry said, his voice hoarse and rough, and Draco's eyes widened in shock.
"I...I thought you didn't remember anything?"
"I don't need to remember to know what I did to you." Harry growled, "I can smell your blood, taste your skin on the air. Why do you think I've been following you? You're the one I've wanted for years, you're the one I've wanted to rip apart, to see the fear in your eyes, to taste your blood, and relish in your essence."
Harry closed the distance between them, coming up beside Draco who didn't even flinch away, and grabbed the back of his hair, forcing his face to Harry's as Harry whispered against his lips in a deadly tone that growled upwards from his chest, "I want to eat you alive."
Draco looked up into that face, that lost face, the face that had been an icon of hope for the world, and did the only thing he had wanted to do ever since that one night. He wrapped his arms around Harry's neck, pressed his lips to the pale ones of the beast, and kissed him.
He tasted blood, he tasted death, but he did not care. Tonight would be his death by the hands of his love, and in a world full of nothing but pain and anguish, of death and suffering, he could wish for nothing more.
He felt a sharpe pain rip through his tongue. Harry had bitten it. He could now taste his own blood amongst whoever Harry had bitten before he arrived, but he continued to kiss him. That pain would be nothing compared to what would happened shortly. He felt Harry's arms encircle him, the small claws seeming to grow in the moonlight, and Draco winced as he felt them dig into his shoulders, before a muffled scream as Harry ripped his claws straight down Draco's back, ripping shirt and skin and pouring blood.
Draco cried out in agony in Harry's mouth, tears pouring down his cheeks, body shaking with pain, but he would not let him go. He clung to him, his own fingernails digging into Harry's back through the rips on his own tattered dark shirt.
"You want to die like this?" Harry growled, licking Draco's lips as the blood from his tongue smeared over them like red lipstick.
"I want...to die, with you." Draco panted out, voice constricted from the pain, but defiantly staring at those bright green eyes, wanting his every last moment to be filled with them. "If you want to eat me, go ahead." he whispered, his voice shaking, before he managed through the pain to pull up his trademark smirk from when they were still at school, and said in his most uptight and boorish voice, "You know I'll be a prime steak."
For a split moment, Draco was sure there was a flash of humour in those emeralds, a split moment where he almost expected the old Harry to jump forth and exclaim, "What kind of lame joke is that Malfoy?".
But he didn't.
Draco's gaze fell back to the glittering stars as Harry buried his head at Draco's throat, could feel those fangs pressing against his skin, and those claws find the path which they had just shredded down his back.
"I love you Harry," Draco whispered to the sky, "I never did tell you that."