Midnight Claiming

It was close to midnight, and for the first time in a long time, the Malfoy rose gardens were silent. The lord was grateful—potions could only do so much for a headache, in truth. Combine a headache and insomnia, and therein lay the answer to why Lucius Malfoy was taking a turn around the gardens when all respectable Wizards had already retired. The cool night air and the silence were doing wonders, and Lucius was just turning towards the house when he was struck by a strange prickling sensation running up his spine. He was being watched.

Lucius had spent too long as a Death Eater not to recognize the feeling of being watched,, but he was too much a Slytherin to let on that he knew. Silently, he drew upon the tendrils of magic connecting the Malfoy Lord to the Manor. The wards were solid and undamaged, but considering that most of his acquaintances were devious bastards, that wasn’t saying much. Tightening his grip on his wand, Lucius slowly and casually turned around. The silence that had been so welcome just a moment before now seemed ominous.

As he’d half-suspected, there was no one to be seen. Whoever was watching him was good, Lucius would grant them that—but no one snuck up on a Malfoy without consequences. There was a subtle sound and Lucius whirled, discovering his mistake too late. The sound had been merely a distraction, he realized—probably a pebble tossed into the dirt some distance away. A hard body materialized against his back as tendrils of magic washed over him, blinding his eyes and stealing his wand from his hand. Long fingers traced invisible patterns up his back, stealing into his hair and pulling his head back for a bruising kiss.

Lucius’s body recognized the truth before his mind did—he’d halfway completed a wordless, wandless hex before he suddenly melted against the dark form holding him upright. He knew that mouth, that source of rich darkness that never failed to send shivers up his spine. Kissing him was strange and thrilling all at once. Strange, because he hadn’t kissed many people in his life; strange, because kissing him was like kissing a shadow given solid form—everything blending into the darkness around them but the weight against his back and that wonderfully busy mouth. It was thrilling for the same reasons.

Even as he kissed back avidly, Lucius began to struggle—not to get away, but to turn and get his hands on the body pressed against his own. The other man smirked against Lucius’s mouth and wrapped his fingers around Lucius’s wrists. Tearing his mouth away, Lucius let out a desperate sound, craving what came next. Burying his head against the side of Lucius’s neck, the man inhaled deeply. Lucius tilted his head in a sign of surrender, and shuddered. Looking up at the sky as fangs pierced his neck, Lucius’s only coherent thought was, Midnight again, Severus? before the heat running through his veins became overwhelming and Lucius succumbed to the pleasure of the vampyre’s bite.

All too soon the Potions Master mouth pulled back and a slick tongue traced over the wounds in his neck, stopping the flow of blood but leaving a definite mark. Panting slightly, Lucius turned his head towards the other man and asked, “Sated already?”

Severus smiled, the tips of his fangs just barely showing, and said, his voice dark and full of promise, “Oh no, we’re just getting started,” before pulling Lucius even closer and Apparating them into their room.

Finite