Blood and Chocolate

Blood and Chocolate

Chapter Four

In Which There is a Batman/Robin Relationship

And Demons Bearing Toast

Draco did not relish the thought of going back to his room after classes and having another Aubrey confrontation. Not when seeing her brought up so many odd, conflicting emotions. He nervously rubbed his hands together, looking up at the cloud-speckled sky above. Snow was coming. Lots of it.

Possibly, Hogwarts would be snowed in for at least a weekend. If there was one thing the wizards refused to interfere with, it was the weather; too many things could go wrong.

A weekend trapped indoors. Aubrey, on the mend, in his room. Ack.

Draco chewed on his lower lip, thinking. Why was it that she messed with his mind like she did? He'd had other girlfriends before; heck, he'd been in dating mode for nearly three hundred years. But none of those other girls had affected him like Aubrey.

Wait, no; that was a lie. There had been Aubade.

Aubade, the sexy sweetheart so very different from Aubrey, yet so alike at the same time. Aubade, with her sunshine-bright curls, her playful green eyes, and-

Did she have green eyes? He couldn't remember...his memories of her were slurred, fuzzed around the edges.

The years he had spent with her, as an ally, a lover, had been difficult for him. Loving Aubade was fluffy bunnies, flowers, sunshine, and happy thoughts all rolled into one, but something had been missing...Aubrey's harsh edge. Even after being shot back with his tail between his legs by Aubrey hadn't changed anything.

Draco flopped down backwards on the forest floor; the Forbidden Forest had always been his brooding zone, and he had found himself slinking into the Forest more and more often as of late. He blinked up at the stark winter sky-as he had expected, fat, fluffy snowflakes had already started their earthward descent. He blinked the flakes from his long lashes.

Now as he thought back, he wondered why he had left sweet Aubade in the first place.

"Crud," Draco muttered. What good was it being who he was when he sucked at it?

"Cold?" inquired an amused voice from above him. Draco opened his eyes and scowled at Potter, his black hair outlined spartanly against the pale December sky.

"Go 'way," Draco growled with feeling, lobbing a half-made snowball at the other boy. Harry danced out of the way.

"Come on, Malfoy, you told me to meet you in the Slytherin dungeons, and then you refused to show up. Pansy Parkinson tried to eat me alive-and what are you doing lying about in the snow, staring up at the sky like that? You look very, very lonely, you know."

"And you're here to cheer me up, huh? Well, go bother your buddies the Mudblood and the Amazing Wheezing Weasel; I haven't got time to talk with you. And I'm not lonely, I'm just thinking." An odd, contrite look passed over Harry's face, as if Draco had slapped him. As if Draco's feeling actually meant something to him. Draco rolled over these thoughts mentally as, true to form, Potter did not leave, but sat down in the snow next to him, jaw set. He knew that look; it was Harry's You want me to leave? Make me, look.

Hmm. Did Harry think that since he had helped him that automatically made them...buddies or something? Draco rather thought not. Malfoys do not have 'buddies', or 'chums', or even 'mates' for that matter, they had acquaintances.

Try explaining that to Potter, though.

With a sudden and interesting cut to the silence, Potter asked, "Malfoy? Do you have a soul?" Draco sat up then, aware of his snow-crusted cloak, his dusted hair, and the cold that he couldn't feel. He blinked at Potter, at his dark, curious eyes, at his youth that Draco had had...once.

"A soul?" Draco repeated, than looked down at his hands. "Yeah, I've got a soul. Heap of good it does me, too. Vampires aren't supposed to have souls, Potter, and you're crap if you have one."

"What?" asked Harry, seeming dumbfounded. "Why would having a soul be so bad? Draco gave a bark of laughter.

"Think about it for a second," he said. "What are typical vampiric hobbies? Hmm. Hard one. Maiming, killing, sucking blood, and driving peasants off their rockers. Now, would a souled creature that has a CONSCIOUS and feels bloody guilty about ripping off heads want to be a vampire? Noooo...they'd rather sit at home and drink prune juice and V-8."

"Prune juice?" Harry demanded. Draco shrugged.

"It can be used as a blood substitute if the vamp's thirsty enough...what do you think I've been living off of? The occasional unwary Hufflepuff? People would start to wonder, Potter. I drink blood when a raccoon or other forest denizen is nice enough not to run away screaming."

"No human blood, then."

"Nah. Human blood makes me feel guilty."

"How did you manage to get a soul, if they're all bad mojo or whatever?"

Draco was silent for a moment. He looked at the crystalline snowdrops, the iced-over trees thick with icing-like frost, and wondered why the cold didn't bother him. If he truly had a soul, as he had said, why didn't he feel the icy chill?

"It's only half a soul," Draco admitted quietly. "And it was given to me as a curse, so that when I did cruel and vampiric crimes, I would have to look back at them and see the monster I am. Aubrey was cursed similarly." Harry muttered something that sounded like, "Poetic justice," before standing up, brushing snowflakes off his cloak.

"Well, that was an interesting conversation. Before I forget entirely, I came here to tell you that Aubrey sends her kind regards. She left."

"Left?" Draco growled, and Harry could have sworn that his storm cloud-gray eyes were glowing slightly.

"Er, yeah. Herm checked her out-she was completely healed. Aubrey said something about sending someone named Jaggy to hell for setting that hunter after her." Draco sighed explosively, letting his shoulders droop, a rare exhaustion creeping over him.

"Jager. Damn, she's going after Jager." He stood, brushing off his cloak.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked, trotting after Draco. His legs were longer, and it was difficult to keep up with the vampire.

"To NYC. New York City, actually. Ever been there?"

"No, but I'm coming with you." This made Draco pause, and look back at him.

"Potter. NYC is literally ruled by vamps. I hate to remind you of this, but you're like the equivalent to dinner on legs to them." Harry grinned, much to his astonishment, and heaved a backpack Draco hadn't noticed before over one shoulder.

"Yeah, and you're souled, remember? You're obligated to bail out a pathetic little human like me, because of that nice conscious of yours. And Hermione made me promise not to let you gallivant off on a harrowing adventure all by yourself. So I'm, like, your sidekick or something."

"Sidekick?" Draco wheezed. "I've got Harry Potter as a sidekick? Wait till I let Rita Skeeter in on this one..."

"You wouldn't dare," Harry said, horrified.

"You better be a good 'lil sidekick, Potter."

"Sidekick? I think I like important co-operative assistant subordinate better, thanks."

"Whatever you say, Robin."

*

Aubrey was glad to be home. Her apartment was just as she had left it when the Vidas had come calling-a mess. Her cats had been overjoyed to see her, rubbing against her ankles and purring for a petting, oblivious that she had been gone three days without being there to feed them, yet they looked well enough. Like their mistress, Aubrey's cats knew how to hunt for themselves.

Zachary, the "King Cat", one of Aubrey's favorites, had come to lay his head on her lap the moment she had slumped on the overstuffed couch. He was a monster of a tom, huge, lean, with uniform black and white tuxedo markings. But to Aubrey, he was a sweetie.

"Sorry I've been gone, Zach man," she apologized to him, running her fingers over his wide skull. The other two cats, playful young Hunter and the only female of the group, Zoë, purred, demanding attention. Hunter was amusing himself by lying on a shelf overhanging the couch, chewing on Aubrey's hair. She laughed, and batted his paw away.

"Mmmrow?" the kitten cried, looking affronted.

"Oh, be quiet. Now then, has Ra'iz been in to visit? Or have you lot been too busy hunting the unwary New York rats to care?" Zachary purred approval, meaning that yes, Ra'iz had been in.

Aubrey got up, pushing away furry bodies, and went to check her desk. Sure enough, weighted down with the corner of a picture frame was a note from Ra'iz. Aubrey gave a quick look at the picture in the frame-it was of the only humans she had even befriended-and slammed it down so that their happy faces weren't visible. They were her friends. And, like typical mortals, they had died. She had never forgiven them for that.

Sighing, she scanned over the missive-it was in untidy scrawl and the spelling was atrocious-definitely from Ra'iz.

Aub,

Worryed abbot u. Herd frum Kaei u wer levin. U goin 2 Engyland agin? Tel Drako hi 4 me. Cal me wen u git bak. I wana cum with u next tim.

Luv,

Ra'iz

And beside her signature, Ra'iz had left an inky pawprint. Oddly, Aubrey was touched by the little demon's care.

It was always nice to know that someone was looking out for you, once in a while.

Again, Aubrey looked at the picture. There were six people there, six Hogwarts students. Four young men, and two red-headed girls.

"Damn you all," she whispered. "Damn you for leaving me like this."

*

There was darkness. Darkness so deep he could reach out and touch it; darkness that clung to him and made it difficult to draw in breath.

Automatically, he cupped his hands before him, whispering, "Blanche incendium", and his natural magic, that of fire, bubbled up, white flames dancing in his palms.

There was an audible screech as the shadows darted away; the light's touch enough to drive back the oppression. He took in a deep breath, savoring the freedom the light had given back to him.

"Why are you doing this to me?" a voice screamed in that void, a voice ridden with pain.

"What have I done?" he ventured, holding up his hands so that the light was cast more into the dark recesses. The illumination fell on a figure robed with the night, and he gasped.

"You know your crimes,"

"N-no..." he stepped back, stumbling in his haste to get away. "I didn't-I haven't-why me?!"

And again, it ended with her opening her pale hand, palm first, and that dark, dark lightning burst from her, arcing through his body with pain so viscous it was hell...

__

"Potter. Potter. Potter! POTTER! POTTER!" Harry was aware of Draco's voice in his ear, increasingly loud and irritated. Harry waved him away, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Go 'way," he muttered. He heard Draco's sigh.

"Look, Potter, it's one thing to fall asleep in a cab, but it's another entirely to refuse to leave!" Harry opened his eyes.

"Oh. So we're there?"

"Just get out," Draco replied wearily, yanking him into the tide of humanity called an NYC sidewalk. He tipped the driver, and then pulled Harry behind him like a young child that'd get lost otherwise. Harry didn't mind; he was too busy gaping at the ceaseless flood of people, and the skyscrapers that towered inexorably heavenward.

"So what's your plan, o fearless leader?" he asked Draco as he tugged on his hand to go faster.

"Well, we can't rightly let Aubrey know we're here-she'd kill us. So, we're going to blend in, and watch her."

"Like spies?"

"Er, yes, I think that'd be the Muggle equivalent," he admitted.

"What's the first step in your cunning plan?"

"We're going to get an apartment." This made Harry do a double-take.

"Wait. You. Me. Sharing an apartment. This doesn't sound right, Malfoy..." Draco just grinned, mounting the steps to an apartment building that seemed to have had better days.

"What? We've gotta' have a Bat-cave."

*

Hermione got the owl from Harry during dinner, a nice distraction from Ron's griping about Harry's 'mysterious' disappearance.

Herm,

I really don't know what possessed me to do this-I'm all the way in America, in a tiny, run-down New York apartment.

Actually, I wouldn't call it an apartment.

Cell, is more appropriate.

It's in the basement, and while it's clean and dry, it's dark, but, of course, Malfoy's pleased because he doesn't have to look weird by wearing sunglasses indoors. He says that light doesn't bother him too much, but I think he's just saying that because he doesn't want to seem weak.

He's an odd one, that Malfoy. We've got this Batman-Robin relationship thing going here, and even though it's sort of disturbing, I still find it amusing.

By the way, tell the teachers I had a family emergency or something, because I don't want anyone knowing I'm in NYC. Especially He-Who-Has-A-Name-We-Will-Not-Mention & Co.

But, if all else fails, I've got my souled vampire buddy to help me if Vol-you know who-suddenly appears.

There was another person's handwriting; not Harry's usual messy scrawl, but neat, precise, and refined.

I am not his "buddy", and do not listen to a word this crazy boy is saying, Granger. -Draco

This is MY letter, Malfoy!!

Oh well.

I'll see you before Christmas (I hope).

Much love,

Harry James Potter, a.k.a. Robin

And his "ANTI-buddy", Dracconis William-Thomas Malfoy, a.k.a. Batman

*

One week later...

*

"Ooh, you're back...I'm so glad we're together again..."

Draco bolted upright, heard his own heart beat wildly in his chest, heard Harry mumble something in his sleep about giving back the covers 'cause he was being greedy. He tossed the comforter at Potter-he snorted-and glared at his sleeping form. It was bad enough they had to be in the same city, worse that they were in the same apartment, worse yet that they had to share a bed.

Thank God I'm straight, Draco thought ruefully, slipping out of bed. He padded silently to the kitchen/office/laundry room, sitting down at the scuffed table with its mismatched chairs and wondered if he should make a cup of coffee. He was exhausted, but the disturbing dreams that had assailed him every night and watching Aubrey do *nothing* by day had worn him; he wasn't sure if he could put up with another week passing like this one had.

Although, "Robin" wasn't all that bad to be around, really.

Sure, Potter was cranky as a witch with PMS in the morning, ornery as a hippogriff with tar on his wings when Draco took control of situations, and a general pain with the corny remarks he made, but on the whole...he wasn't bad. For a Gryffindor.

Draco eventually pulled out a phial of doe's blood he kept high in one cupboard, and took a long drink.

Ugh. Not only was it cold, it was coarse and sour, as animal blood tended to be. He shuddered, and gagged. He hated animal blood. But it was what was necessary to survive. He couldn't go around stealing licks from humans-especially not Potter. Even though NYC had enough bums and nobodies that wouldn't be missed to keep a whole colony of vamps chipper for a lifetime.

Damn that shred of soul that kept him humane.

"Malfoy?" It was Harry's voice, mid-yawn, from the bedroom. Draco hastily set his phial back on the shelf. As he slipped back into bed, Potter screeched like a banshee, stealing all the covers. "Your feet are friggin' COLD!!!" he accused, lower lip quivering as he shivered slightly.

"Fine," Draco growled, rolling over so his back faced him. "Be that way. Take all the covers. Don't mind me while I freeze to death."

"You already died, idiot. That's why they call vampires 'undead'."

"Oh. Right. G'night, Potter," Draco replied, yanking the blankets out from under Harry, and snuggling down just as he heard the thump and indignant "Ow!" from Potter hitting the floor.

*

Next morning, Harry was up first, while Malfoy peacefully dozed, his long silver hair a true mess. Seeing that the sun was already debating shedding light on the young vampire, Harry slipped a pair of (expensive) dark sunglasses on him, and pulled the covers over any exposed skin. In any other instance it would have seemed a really silly thing to do, but Harry wasn't about to see exactly how resistant Draco was to sunlight.

Very much as Draco had done the night before, Harry slunk into the kitchen/office/laundry room, found the coffee pot, and flipped it on. He also set bread to be toasted-Draco rarely took breakfast with him (claimed that as a creature of the night, the early morning hours "slogged" him down), but that didn't mean he didn't have company.

As soon as the toast popped up, golden-brown and perfect as usual, Ra'iz appeared with a *pop*, snatched a piece, and crunched loudly on it. The little demon was roughly the size and shape of a housecat; matte black, with huge, amorphous green eyes, a thin, tufted tail that was twice the length of her body, and pointed ears that were ridiculously large on her small head. Her paws, complete with small, sharp claws, clutched her toast as she nibbled, misty eyes unblinking.

And she had an accent like that of a cabby.

"'Mornin' Harry," Ra'iz said cheerfully in her squeaky little voice, frowning at her toast. "Wher'sa butter, kid? I wor' my tail off fer yous guys, an' dis is wot I get? Nobody 'preciates me, nope, nobody." Harry gave the fuzzy demon an affectionate pet; he had learned from Draco that she was a friend, and a friend that was not to be taken lightly. Yeah, she was cute, but...

"Sorry, Ra'iz," said Harry. "You're here about two minutes too early-the butter's in the fridge if you want it."

"Get Draco up an' at 'em, den," Ra'iz said, trotting over to paw through what the refrigerator contents. "Gawd," she muttered. "Ya know, raidin' an Englishman's fridge is like datin' a nun. You're nevah gonna get da good stuff." Harry snorted; Ra'iz had an...interesting...sense of humor. For a fuzzy demon.

"I'll be right back," he called over Ra'iz's mutterings, starting back down the hall to his and Draco's shared room.

Draco was asleep, as he had left him, the top of his silver head visible over the comforter. Harry drew closed the drapes before whipping the covers off of Draco, leaving the vampire clad only in his boxers and dark sunglasses.

And he was still fast asleep. Harry shook his shoulder.

"Wake up," he said firmly, and Draco shouted and bolted upright in bed.

"Don't warn the tadpoles!" he yelped, and Harry shook his head.

"You know what? I don't even want to know. Get dressed-Ra'iz is here already." Draco blinked blearily, pushing his sunglasses up to his forehead.

"What time is it?"

"Nine a.m.," Harry replied primly, throwing a pair of trousers at him. "And I was serious about getting some clothes on. God, what would you do without me?"

"Well, Robin," Draco began, rubbing his eyes. "I'd sleep a lot more--"

"Just get your pants on," Harry said, throwing his hands in the air and stalking out of the room in exasperation.

*

When Draco finally did join Ra'iz and Harry for breakfast, he looked very put-together indeed, silver hair braided in a ponytail down his back, wearing the black trousers Harry had thrown at him, and a thin white tank-top that left his lean chest muscles ill-hid. Harry sighed and dragged his spoon through his Cheerios; Draco Malfoy, if nothing else, was an exhibitionist.

"Well, g'morning, all. Nice to see you, Ra'iz. Is Aubrey well?" The demon's cute face pouted.

"You Brits really don't 'preciate me a' all. Here I am, comin' in fer a nice talk, an' all ya do is jabber on 'bout Aubrey. She may be my Master, but I ain't my Master's keeper, ya know." Draco wrestled the cereal box from Harry and poured himself a bowl of Cheerios.

"Yes, I know. Aubrey's a free spirit and all that, but have you seen her, really? Tell me she hasn't been hanging about Las Noches."

"Nah," Ra'iz replied with a dismissive wave of her paw. "Hasn' been 'round da bar fer months. Sulkin' a' home wi' da cats, last time I saw her." Draco shuddered between mouthfuls.

"I hate cats," he said vehemently. "Always have. Nasty, demonic creatures." Seeing Ra'iz's glare, he quickly amended, "But demons aren't that bad."

"'S'why I'm here. Y'think I'm jus' gonna sit 'round an' watch while Jager and Fala brew up deir powers, actin' like dey rule da town? Not when demons like me are 'round..."

"So you really think Jager and Fala are up to something, Ra'iz?" Draco asked. The demon nodded, climbing onto the cupboard to make herself more toast.

"They're upta sumthin' big or I'm a house-elf. Aubrey felt it comin' 'fore ev'ryone else, but dat's da way she is. Been tryin' to cook up her own plan, y'know, but nobody like's her much, since she's...well, y'know."

"Souled?" Harry ventured, finally cutting into the demon/vampire conversation.

"Since when've ya hung 'bout wit human-folk, Draco? Didn't tink ya da sort." Draco shrugged elegantly, leaning back in his chair.

"What can I say? Desperate times call for desperate measures, Ra'iz, and this human's just about as lucky as they come. We need luck, seeing as we're all dealing with the undead and the powers of hell and beyond." The phone rang. "Get that, will you, Robin?" Grumbling, Harry got up, picking up the phone and listening for a moment.

"Excuse me Master Malfoy," he said. "It's the Bat-signal..."

*

Aubrey nervously thrummed her long fingers on the kitchen counter, impatiently listening to the buzz that ensued after someone had put her on hold. She wondered whom Draco had in his room with him-it hadn't sounded like anyone she knew, but still-

"Hello?" Draco sounded worn, a bit of tiredness making his voice deeper and quieter than usual. She could imagine him waiting for a reply, leaning against the wall and looking as languid as a cat, but equally as coiled. As ready for action on the drop of a hat.

Unable to knit the meager courage she had mustered up; Aubrey turned quickly and hung up the phone.

She had thought she had the guts to talk to him, but obviously not. She was shaking with aftershock, and she slid down the wall, drawing her knees up to her chest and closing her eyes. The cat troupe marched past, tails raised high, brushing past their mistress to settle for their mid-morning nap in the only room Aubrey did not hang thick, dark, sun-blocking curtains in. She knew how much her cats loved the light, and, furry creatures being her soft spot, she left that small room as the cat's solarium, although she refused to set foot in the brightness until at least late afternoon, when the sunlight was the least fierce.

Zachary, ever attentive to her needs, gave her a questioning 'miaow' as he passed.

"I'm fine," Aubrey said automatically, although she felt far from 'fine'.

In fact, she felt like going 'away' for a while.

Far, far away.

*

"It was her," Draco said again, unsteadily, as Ra'iz handed him a piece of toast to calm him down. The little demon believed, more than anything else, in the healing power of good, browned toast. Draco had always thought demons were a bit on the odd side, and Ra'iz just proved it.

"What makes you so sure?" Harry demanded, watching him carefully as Draco chanced a bite of Ra'iz's toast. It was rather good. Maybe that was one of the many aspects of the demon's magic.

Perfect toast as a magical talent. Well, you never knew.

"I just know," Draco said quietly. "Look, we're like part of each other because of this blasted soul. I feel it when she's hurt, when she's lost, and the same goes for when I'm hurt. She feels it, and she always reacted to it, in the past." Draco looked down at the toast in his hand, still feeling a bit shaken for reasons he couldn't explain. "Aubrey used to say that it was like that for all friendships. Friends are connected. I wouldn't know-never been the friendliest sort of chap, myself." Harry sighed.

"So you're sure it was Aubrey?"

"Of course. My Spidey-sense was tingling."

*

I loved what I was.

I loved hearing the humans' screams as I slit their throat, as I drank their blood. As I became the demon that threatened to take over.

Aubrey, my hunting companion, grinned evilly, her dark green eyes glimmering at me from above the firelight. We were watching, together, a procession of humans that were laughing and singing beside their campfires; a mother cradling her newborn baby, a father whittling with his son, a rebellious young woman with braids refusing to wear a bonnet while her aunt argued she'd burn in the prairie sun.

I gestured to the girl-she was beautiful-and Aubrey raised her eyebrows, perplexed.

"You want that one?" she whispered to me, and I could feel the brush of her stiff black skirts as she crept forward to get a better glimpse of my intended victim.

"A worthy prize for Dracconis, eh?" I whispered back. Aubrey's eyes darkened; either she was hurt that I'd look at a woman other than her, or she felt something about the girl that I hadn't sensed.

"Aye. A worthy prize, but I don't feel right about her, D--"

"Don't worry," I assured her, brushing a curl of blood-red hair from her shoulder's soft curve. Still, she didn't look happy about my choice.

I think she knew that I couldn't handle that one.

She knew...somehow...that the girl I had chosen was an immortal Triste witch.

A witch that would forever curse me, and Aubrey, with a bloody sliver of soul.

I couldn't drink human blood after that.