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To Taste Only You

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Deep hunter green eyes flecked with gold and brown watched as the beast trampled on the man. He knew this man, had watched him for many years now. Through the wizard’s war against the Great Dark One and into the quiet life he led here in the mountains, the man had never changed. He’d always been strong and powerful yet gentle in his ways. To lose him now would be a disservice to everyone. Decision made, he silently moved forward and hovered just above the trodden form.

“Forgive me, Charlie,” he whispered as the moonlight glinted off his extended canines. “There is no other way.”

Moaning deep in his throat at the heady scent, the vampire sank his teeth into the pale neck, bleeding the remaining life away.



Harry Potter stepped into the kitchen at the Burrow expecting at least a small greeting hello. Instead, he was bowled over by the boiling between the members of his adopted family cluttering the small kitchen. Sliding against the wall, he moved next to Hermione and asked, “What the hell caused this row?”

“You haven’t heard?” Hermione asked as she leaned closer to Harry. Whispering, trying to not draw attention to their side conversation, the bushy headed witch added, “It’s Charlie.”

Harry quirked a brow. After the war, Charlie had returned to Romania and his beloved dragons. It was a life Harry envied. Charlie lived a quiet, peaceful existence, away from all the hoopla caused by the end of the war and the subsequent political uprisings. “How on earth did Charlie manage to stir this up from Romania?”

It was the twins shenanigans that usually prompted such angry red faces from Arthur and Molly Weasley. Not even the time he’d gone along with Ron and stole Mr. Weasley’s Firewhiskey had had this response. “He didn’t do anything. More like what was done to him.”

“Huh?” Well. That sounded real mature, didn’t it?

Hermione rolled her eyes but thankfully answered the question without commenting on Harry’s verbal skills. “Apparently, he was caught by a stampeding dragon or two. He…”

“Charlie’s dead?” The despair and disbelief in Harry’s tone belied his typical protest that he thought of Charlie as ‘just another brother’. Hermione had long suspected that Harry’s feelings toward Charlie held no familial connotation at all. The distraught look flashing in the familiar green eyes confirmed all he felt as clearly as finding them locked in an embrace would have.

“No. Well,” Hermione scrunched her nose in thought, “not really. More like undead.”

Forgetting the need to be quiet, Harry bellowed, “How the sodding hell did Charlie become a vampire?”

Harry’s outburst was met with a thick, hovering silence. Sheepishly he looked to Arthur and Molly Weasley, their gaping mouths letting him know just how much he’d given away in that little eruption. “Umm…sorry.”

Molly shook her head. “Don’t, Harry. That was our reaction in the beginning too.” Coming over, she sat heavily at the table, the stress showing in her every move. “Now we have to decide what to do.”

Harry joined the Weasley matriarch at the table. “What is there to decide? We, well I mean, you help him.” The screaming seemed to be over now as the others joined Harry and Molly at the table. Hermione stepped to the cooker, readying water for tea as she set out a platter of biscuits.

Molly buried her face in her hands, the red hair streaked through with grey falling over her fingers. “I wish it was that easy, truly I do,” she whispered before falling silent again.

Ron took the extended quiet as permission for him to explain the previous… debate… to Harry. “We can’t invite him home.”

From the depths of her hands, Molly cried, “He’s my son. He should be able to come home when he wants. None of my children should require an invitation.”

The announcement caught Harry by surprise. The Weasleys had never denied one of their children the right to come home. Not even that prat Percy. “Why can’t you?”

Ron looked between his parents, wanting one of them to explain the intricacies of the situation to his best friend. When neither appeared to be willing, the youngest Weasley son sighed deeply and tried to relate the facts to Harry, even if he didn’t understand them completely himself. “Well, Charlie is a fledgling vampire.” Harry nodded his understanding at that fact, the look of confusion on his face demanded that Ron keep talking.

Ron picked up one of the sweet treats, breaking it until a pile of crumbles was left on his plate. “He really hasn’t had time to learn how to control the blood lust. It’s not safe for,” Ron gestured around the kitchen to his pregnant wife and the small children running about, “everyone here for him to come home yet.”

“How… how,” Harry stammered around his question, his emotions and thoughts about Charlie running out of control with this new information. “How long until he can control it? How long before we can see him again?”

Everyone glanced between each other before Molly, sobs still escaping intermittently, tried to answer the question. “There are a lot of factors to consider when dealing with a vampire, Harry.” The woman looked older, like she’d been pulled in too many directions. “It’s not just the blood lust. If it was, he’d be able to come home as soon as his Sire,” she shivered at the word, as if it alone would conjure evil and dark things, “deemed him able.”

“The Ministry,” Arthur added, finally stepping into the conversation, “will require him to have a permanent donor before he is able to travel back into the wizarding populace. They demand it of every vampire, fledging or Master; they feel it is a safe guard.”

Hermione, rubbing her extended stomach as she spoke, added, “Finding one in Romania will not be an easy feat for him. We were discussing,” Harry held in his snort at the argument description. He’d come to realize that the Weasleys were just a noisy bunch of people a long time ago. The noise he’d encountered on arrival was not a simple discussion. As if she hadn’t noticed his slight distraction, Hermione finished her sentence, “how to handle seeing him when you came in.”

“Look,” Harry started working himself up. The possibility of not seeing Charlie again terrified him. The fact that he’d never told Charlie of his feelings, didn’t know if they could or would ever be returned, was a moot point. “Are we even sure that this has happened? We know for a fact that he is a vampire?” He had to be sure. Had to know for a fact that these were the new circumstances. Then…then he could plan.

Molly took a crumpled parchment from her robe pocket and pushed across the table to Harry. “We know.”

The ink was streaked with tears but the sentiment was still clear. Charlie was most definitely a vampire. Reading about the dragon’s attack, Harry shuddered. He’d come so close to losing the man without ever telling him how he really felt. Softly he muttered, “It could have been worse. He could have died.”

… … …

Harry arrived at the outskirts to the dragon reserve tired and dusty from the multiple Floo and Portkey stops. Twilight was just gracing the land and he’d been traveling since the early morning; he now had a better understanding of why Charlie didn’t come back to Ottery St. Catchpole very often. The trip was long and arduous. Harry would have gladly sold off his entire rucksack for a hot shower and a bed. Instead he cast a quick cleaning charm and started making his way to the check in point described by Charlie’s supervisor.

It had been two weeks since he’d learned of Charlie’s fate. He’d spent the first week raging about the unfairness that Charlie, of all wizards, had to endure this treatment. There were plenty of witches and wizards out there that Harry thought ostracizing was too good for; at least it would help the rest of the wizarding world if certain persons were banned. Charlie Weasley was not one of them. He’d finally gotten his gut reaction to scream under control and replaced it with a desire to learn about vampires and their habits.

Harry spent all of his waking moments researching through every vampire tome he could get his hands on. Now he was here to offer the familiar face of friendship and acceptance. He’d love to do nothing more than throw his arms around Charlie and offer up his neck; but, through his reading, he’d learned that to become the older wizard’s donor, Charlie would have to make the first move.

Harry reached the impressive intake building and smiled a greeting at the bloke manning the desk. “Hi. I’m here to see Charlie Weasley. Mr. Dumont said to just come here when I arrived.”

The man took one look at the scar on Harry’s forehead and ushered him down a hall and into Mr. Dumont’s office. “I’ll get Mr. Dumont for you, Mr. Potter. He’ll know where Charlie is.”

For once Harry was thankful for the recognition that followed him like the plague. Gaining permission to come see Charlie had been made easier by using that fame. Harry moved to look out the window while he waited for the director; one dragon pen was visible in the distance and held his attention as he watched the handlers move around the beast. He wondered, after what had happened to Charlie, how they could all still work with the creatures.


The questioning, almost apprehensive, voice brought him back from his thoughts. Turning around, a true smile blossoming on his face, he said, “Charlie.” Still the shortest and stockiest of the Weasley sons, Charlie’s appearance hadn’t changed all that much. The only obvious thing to happen in the month since the change was the paler, porcelain like skin showing beneath the freckles.

Harry rushed over and hugged the older wizard in greeting as he had many times before. Slowly, realizing Harry was not here to chastise him, Charlie wrapped his arms around the smaller figure and returned the embrace. He wondered if Harry knew just how much the easy acceptance meant to him. His vampiric nature intensified his already normal need for touch. Having it come willingly from Harry, a trusted friend, only made it that much sweeter. Tightening his arms even more, Charlie sighed, “Harry.”

The two stood together, a comfortable silence filling the room. Finally Charlie broke the embrace. “What are you doing here?”

Harry looked at his feet, shuffling them back and forth against the floor. What if Charlie didn’t want him here? Slowly, almost stuttering, he said, “I thought you could use a familiar face right about now. You know, a friend from home.”

Charlie relaxed into a smile that, for the first time in weeks, reached his eyes. “I can, Harry. I can.”

Harry followed Charlie out the door and into the darkening night. Walking together along the dirt path, Charlie said, “Emerick, my Sire, will be at the house. We usually work on some things every night.” They covered a few more strides in silence, Harry waiting until Charlie added the unspoken. “For now, another four or five months at least, the nightly meetings include my feedings.”

Harry looked over to find Charlie watching him with contemplative eyes. He’d learned that for the first months the fledgling would feed from his Sire. It was a safeguard. The Master vampire could teach the newcomer how and where to feed with minimal pain along with monitoring the amount of blood that was taken. “Would it be better for me to bunk somewhere else? You really weren’t planning on entertaining someone.”

“No,” Charlie fairly shouted. Looking sheepish about his loud answer, he quietly added, “Well, not unless you’d be uncomfortable with him there.”

Harry nudged Charlie’s shoulder as they got closer to the small cabin. “I did some reading before I came out here, you know. I expected your Sire to be around.” He wondered if Charlie could read his feelings for him, if he knew that Harry had a deeper interest than friendship in the redhead. “Will it make you uncomfortable? The feeding with me around, I mean.”

The chuckle was self-deprecating; it was a foreign sound coming from Charlie, a sound Harry would give anything to never hear again. “I have to get used to it sometime. Whether I like it or not, I’m a vampire now.”

“I know. I’m grateful for it, too.” Harry figured to start as he meant to go. Up until now he’d acted as he always did with Charlie; he saw no reason to start evading the truth now. “If you weren’t, you’d be dead.”

Charlie stopped walking. His words cracked with emotion and unspoken hope as he asked, “It really doesn’t bother you? You’re not afraid to be alone with me?”

Harry couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather be alone with. Looking around, taking in the high Transylvanian Alps in the skyline, Harry tried to find the words that would let Charlie know that he trusted him, had always trusted him, without giving away his feelings. “No, Charlie,” he said seriously. “I could never be afraid of you.”

Charlie nodded. Grabbing Harry’s hand, leading him to the house, he whispered, “Thank you.”

Harry relished the small touch. Charlie had always been more work roughened then the rest of the Weasleys. Working with the dragons meant a lot of accidental burns and calloused hands. Man’s hands. Charlie’s hands. Harry bit back the frustrated sigh bubbling just below the surface.

Waiting for the other wizard to make the first move was going to kill him, he just knew it.

All thoughts about Charlie were pushed to the back of his mind the minute they entered the log home. Harry had just a minute to take in the homey surroundings before he was led to the kitchen to be introduced to Charlie’s Sire. The young wizard was glad that Charlie’s Sire was here. Had he been given time to think about the meeting he’d have been nervous, stumbling over his feet and his words. Harry would need the master’s stamp of approval or Charlie would never even contemplate having Harry as his donor. “Emerick, this is Harry Potter. Harry, Emerick of the Tepes Clan.”

The fledgling vampire moved quickly to the side of the room. Harry and Emerick had to come to an understanding on their own terms without his influence. Charlie prayed that the two of them would be able to find common ground, perhaps even be friends. He needed Emerick, as his Sire, to survive and he needed Harry more than he could have imagined. The realization had come to him when he first saw the familiar mop of black hair. The unexpected bond with Harry was something he wanted and needed to explore.

“Mr. Potter,” the older vampire purred with a thick Romanian, almost German, accent. The mysterious green eyes sized Harry up and, in a move Harry allowed, brushed against the younger man’s thoughts. “A pleasure to meet you.”

Harry returned the half bow, knowing that the man standing across from him knew without a doubt the feelings he harbored for Charlie Weasley. “Emerick. The pleasure is truly mine.” Harry returned the assessing gaze with his own. The vampire easily stood six feet tall, his dark shoulder length hair glinting like copper when caught just right by the firelight. The pale skin only made the man more appealing, in Harry’s opinion. “Please call me Harry.”

“Harry.” Again the voiced sounded more like a heavy rumble. “It was kind of you to come to see our Charlie. I’m sure he is appreciative of the gesture.”

Harry arched a brow. He knew the vampire was testing him, pushing him, seeing if he would run at the first sign of resistance. The man was in for the shock of his undead life if he thought that he could chase Harry back to Britain with plain words. “It’s more than a simple gesture. Charlie is an important part of my life, Emerick.” Weighing his options, Harry decided to offer a small token to the man. “Thank you.”

The statement seemed to have thrown the Master vampire off. “For?”

“Saving him.”

… … …

Over the next three months, after Harry’s internal clock switched to a nocturnal frame, the two wizards and the Master vampire had worked out an easy routine. Harry would accompany Charlie on his nightly rounds through the dragon preserve; to his surprise, he was learning to love the animals that caused Charlie’s undead status. After returning home, Harry would fix a light meal and join Charlie and Emerick in discussions about vampirism, current events, and mundane topics like Quidditch.

The longer Harry was there, the more Charlie would reach out with a small caress. That, those brief, flitting touches were what led to Harry’s current open-mouthed state. Charlie, as he passed him on his way to the kitchen, ran his fingers through Harry’s hair, blunt nails dragging along his scalp. Harry wondered if the older man even realized what he was doing.

“The answer to that,” Emerick said drolly, “would be no.” Harry now knew that when he wasn’t consciously blocking his thoughts the Master vampire could read him without even trying. Apparently the Boy Who Lived was a projector; everything he thought and felt oozed out of him in waves. Gods help him when Charlie finally learned how to read people. “You are doing well at hiding your emotions from him. He doesn’t suspect your true feelings, Harry.”

Emerick had finally admitted that Harry James Potter impressed him. The man had refused to flinch the first time Charlie unsheathed his fangs; that alone had won him a place in Emerick’s heart. The nonchalant attitude, as if it was an everyday occurrence, had reassured his childe and made him more accepting of himself. It was however when Harry had stood toe to toe with Emerick that the vampire found himself respecting the mortal.

It was while he crept along the path between the cabin and the nearby natural spring that Emerick found Harry. The small man had turned into himself, knees clasped against his chest while he let the tears fall unbidden.

“Why don’t you just leave, Mr. Potter?” Emerick demanded. The vampire seemed larger in his anger. “You will end up hurting Charlie. The first time you find him with blood dripping off his teeth and spattered on his skin instead of neat and clean as his feedings are now, he will repulse you. That will confirm everything he thinks about himself. You have the power to break him.”

Harry wiped his face on his sleeve. Chuckling manically, he asked, “You think I’m crying because I cannot stomach to see what Charlie has become?” Rising, Harry invaded the other man’s space as he started shouting directly in his face. “You idiot. There is nothing about Charlie that repulses me. I am taking a minute to wallow in self pity, wondering when he is going to wake up and send me away from him.”

As quickly as the anger had flooded Emerick’s veins it dissipated. “What are you going on about, Harry?”

Harry scrubbed his face with his hands. Couldn’t a wizard feel sorry for himself without a nosy vampire coming along? “You know how I feel?”


“What happens when Charlie realizes it too?” Harry hated feeling needy and insecure. “It’s not Charlie you have to worry about, Emerick. If any one gets their heart broken, it’ll be me.”

After that meeting of the minds, Harry and Emerick formed a tight friendship built on their mutual love for Charlie. Emerick instructed Harry on ways to build intimacy between himself and Charlie without voiding any future binding. Harry’s ability to wait patiently for Charlie to make the first move when the man obviously wanted to throw the other vampire down and beg to be bitten was unheard of. Many times in his past Emerick had witnessed two people fail to become the bond mates they were meant to be because the mortal didn’t have the patience to wait for the vampire’s senses to mature. Harry Potter was like no other.

“You know that he’ll easily recognize the emotion any day now.” They’d had this conversation before. Emerick reminded Harry at least every other day to give Charlie time. He felt that the man sitting across from him was perfect for his childe.

“I know.” Harry frowned when he added, “Doesn’t matter any way. He could just as easily turn me away as accept me.”

Emerick wanted to reassure Harry, promise him that Charlie returned his feelings ten fold. To do so, though, would disrupt the process. There was a reason the vampire had to approach their donor first. The dynamics of the relationship, the dominance just as well as the submission, depended on the rituals being followed exactly. “You also know that should he approach you there are specific roles within the relationship.”

He waited for Harry’s nod before asking, “Would you be able to submit? You are a very powerful wizard, Harry. Your personality is domineering in a roundabout way.” Emerick’s eyes never left Harry despite his desire to look at his childe, spying on them from the kitchen door. He knew Charlie wanted Harry. He also knew that Charlie feared that Harry would not be willing to surrender himself to the vampire’s care. This, letting Charlie hear a private conversation, was the best that he could do to help the both of them.

Harry scrubbed his hands over his face, fighting the urge to cackle madly. “Are you kidding, Emerick? I’ve known the wizarding world was depending on me since I was eleven. Now that my destiny has been fulfilled, I would love to have someone care about me enough to take the weight off my shoulders.” He shook his head, not believing that Emerick didn’t understand this. “There is no one I’d trust more in that position than Charlie Weasley.”

Charlie’s eyes flashed a brilliant blue as he heard the words. Despite the fact that Charlie had kept his feelings to himself, his Sire knew he wanted Harry, knew that it took everything the new vampire had to keep from making Harry his. He kept his position in the shadowed doorway. Perhaps, if he was quiet, Emerick would keep Harry talking. Then he could learn just what Harry wanted.

“You’d go down on your knees in front of our clan? Let him take your blood for an eternity?” Emerick let his voice go cold and hard. He had to push, had to make Harry see both sides of being a donor to a vampire. There were ups and downs to the relationship, as there were in most complex things life had to offer. “You’d be what Charlie wants and needs?”

Harry looked at Emerick, forming his response carefully in his mind before retorting. “I will always show him the respect he deserves. If that means going down on my knees in submission in front of his clan, so be it.” Harry stood, pacing the small area in front of the fireplace. Just now, he was thankful that he projected his feelings. Emerick would have no cause to not accept his words as the truth.

“Lengthening the time I have on earth with him by letting him drink of my blood? That is definitely not a problem, as you know already. I’ve done everything in my power to not offer myself to him.” Harry sighed. The next question, the last one, was the hardest one. He couldn’t give Emerick a definitive ‘yes, I’ll do that’. There was just no possible way.

“Be what Charlie wants and needs?” Charlie held his breath. He could see Harry from his shadowed hiding place. For the first time, he could read the feelings coming off of the young man. His vampiric nature was finally maturing. Soon his Sire would return to his home knowing that his childe could handle himself. “I can promise to do my best to be what he wants and needs as long as the same is reciprocated in kind.”

“However,” Harry said, throwing himself back into the chair, “I will not be his lap dog. I’m sure that there will be disagreements and compromises from both of us.” Harry smiled softly. “I wouldn’t expect Charlie to want a lap dog. Nonetheless, this conversation is pointless. It is Charlie’s decision. Not mine. Not yours.”

“True,” Emerick readily agreed. No reason to let Harry know Charlie was playing very close attention to their ‘private’ conversation. “It is best, though, if you have thought about these issues beforehand. Just in case.”

Harry thought there was more to the pointed look Emerick gave him than just an ending to a conversation. He hoped that Emerick was trying to prepare him for an upcoming event. Then again, Emerick had said many, many times that the steps had to be followed. It couldn’t be anything but their usual friendly chatting.

Emerick pushed out of the sofa and moved towards the door. It was time for Charlie to be alone with Harry; Emerick would find something to do close by, just in case he was needed. Straightening his shirt, he said, “I’m going out for a bit, Harry. Would you please let Charlie know?”

Still replaying the conversation over in his mind, Harry gave him a noncommittal grunt and waved him off. “Have fun.”

As soon as the door shut, Charlie came back into the room. He watched Harry, mesmerized by the emotions rolling off the younger man. How had he missed these feelings? He wanted to possess the man. Love him. Care for him. Taste him.

Only him. Only Harry.

“Harry…” His voice was gruff, full of want and desire and need. “We need to talk.”

Harry took one look at Charlie and knew. Knew that this was the moment he’d come to Romania for. Standing, going to the outstretched hand, he hissed, “Yessss.”

Charlie led Harry through the small house to the furthest bedroom, his bedroom. Now he understood everything Emerick had been telling him. The warnings to not overlook that which was close, the hints that the strongest of people made the best submissives, and the description of the all consuming fire that one would feel when he was around the perfect choice of donor. Pushing Harry towards the bedside chair, Charlie walked to the other side of the room.

“Charlie?” Harry’s face showed his confusion. He didn’t expect to be left alone after the bedroom door snicked shut.

Charlie inhaled deeply. He could smell Harry now. His magic. His blood. All the scents unique to Harry. All affected Charlie like the strongest drug. “We really do have to talk this out, Harry.”

“Yes, we do,” Harry agreed. “Is there a reason, though, that you must be on the other side of the room for us to do that?”

Charlie flashed his elongated canines at Harry.

“Oh.” Harry grinned sheepishly. “Yes, I would guess that means we talk fast.”

Charlie’s eyes widened at the easy remark, the black center of his eyes expanding with desire until only a small ring of cerulean blue surrounded the rim. “Did you mean everything you said to Emerick?”

“You were listening,” Harry accused, his voice bordering on hurt.

Charlie nodded once. “If I had not, I would still be too afraid of risking our friendship to seek you out.” Acceptance washed over Harry’s features. The explanation made sense; he too had waited years because of fear. “Did you mean it? All of it?”

Harry smiled softly. “Yes, Charlie, I meant it.” Running on instinct, something had never failed him before, Harry stood and walked towards Charlie as he spoke. “I would gladly, lovingly recognize you as my dominant in front of anyone out there.” With each step, Harry’s breath sped up with lust and anticipation. “Having you feed from me, knowing I’m providing you with what you need, would give me a sense of pride and accomplishment.”

Holding Charlie’s gaze, Harry dropped to his knees directly in front of the vampire. He knew the words that Charlie had to speak, just as he knew the reply that would bind them until Charlie released him from his servitude. Chest heaving, Harry waited patiently. He’d waited years before coming here and months since he arrived, a few more minutes would mean nothing in the grand scheme of things.

“Harry,” Charlie groaned at the sight before him. “You know the first bite, the claiming bite, will hurt?” Harry nodded soundlessly at the knowledge. “I don’t want to hurt you. Never hurt you.”

Reaching around his neck, Charlie removed one of the two clan insignias Emerick had given him the night he was reborn. Looping the heavy chain around Harry’s neck, Charlie started the bonding with steady words. “Do you come to me willingly?”

“I, Harry Potter, submit myself, completely and totally, in all things to Charlie Weasley, who is now of the Tepes clan.” Harry felt the tension bleed out of him with every word only to be filled with a comforting presence. “I will be his donor, his lover and partner. His to do with as he pleases.”

“I accept your submission as my donor, my lover, my pet.” Charlie smiled down at Harry, reveling in the magic swirling around them. “Do you come to me out of respect?”

The magic intensified with the question. Harry gasped his answer out, ready for the ritual to move forward. “I bow down before you with respect in my heart and mind.” Opening his shields, he finished, “Look inside of me and witness this for yourself. I will not hide myself from you evermore.”

Charlie pulled Harry to his feet and licked a swath over the straining tendons in his donor’s neck. Leaning in, he whispered, “My foes and your foes become one. My honor and your honor become one.” Dragging one of the sharp incisors down the bared neck, Charlie asked, “Are you ready, my own?”

“Gods, yes.” Harry relaxed into the hard body holding him, completely giving himself over to Charlie.

Charlie sunk his fangs into the rippling vein, drinking in the nectar that would bind them indefinitely. Harry arched and cried out as the pain of the bite gave way to the pleasure of belonging to Charlie.

Pulling back, Charlie bit into his own wrist. Pressing it close to Harry’s lips and murmured, “My blood and yours mingle to be one.”

He waited until Harry started suckling before returning to the bruised neck. Together they moaned, feeling the bond take root, placing them within each other’s psyche. Breaking free, a small trickle of blood oozing down Harry’s neck, Charlie said the words to end the formal ceremony. “From this day forward know that you will always have a sword to guard your back and a partner to turn to when in need no matter what the need or circumstances. Till the City of Dust claims us, this is my Vow and Oath to you.”

Charlie licked over the claiming bite. The two small puncture holes would scar, forever showing the world that Harry was his.


The word sent a warm feeling of contentment through Charlie. Harry was his. “Gods, you feel wonderful,” Charlie mumbled, running his hands over and down Harry’s shoulders and back. “Mine,” he declared, reaching Harry’s denim covered arse. “Mine.”

Harry mewed and pressed his erection into Charlie’s thigh. “Please Charlie.”

A soft growl erupted from Charlie’s throat before he covered Harry’s mouth with his own. The coppery taste of blood moved between them as their tongues slid against one another. Never breaking the kiss, Charlie lifted Harry up and coaxed his legs to snake around his waist. Harry panted as the kiss was finally broken. “Charlie.”

“Hush now, Harry,” Charlie commanded gently. Harry was placed in the center of the bed; his clothes were stripped away slowly with tender care, leaving him naked, the gold insignia shining just over his heart. Tossing the small bottle of lubricant on the bed, Charlie said, “Let me take care of you, Harry. Let me love you.”

Harry whimpered as Charlie’s mouth trailed a path over his bare skin, mixing the scratch of his scraping teeth with a soothing laving of his tongue. Soon faint trails of blood and raised skin covered Harry’s chest. It was a glistening map leading from the neck wound down, over the two peaked nipples, straight to Harry’s cock, jutting proudly out of the wiry dark pubic hairs.

He pushed Harry’s legs wide, dipping the bed down as he nestled into the gap. Burying his face at the juncture of hip and thigh, Charlie slipped an oiled hand around Harry’s length and started to pump up and down, dragging his thumb through the clear liquid leaking from the slit.

Harry arced his back, pushing into the tight grasp. “More…” Harry gasped out, hips jerking up with each stroke. “Please, more.”

Charlie held Harry’s hips still with his free hand, his tongue wetting the skin. One more mark to give; the one reserved for the vampire’s beloved, promising his faithfulness to this mortal only. Charlie drew back and opened his mouth, the tips of his fangs just visible behind the feral smile.

Harry hissed; the sting of the sweat on his chest, the slight trickles of blood rolling over his ribs and down his sides, blending with the heat between his legs brought him an unfamiliar euphoria. The two, pleasure and pain, fed off of one another, heightening every nerve, making every touch more.

Charlie waited, keeping the same even movements of his hand. Waited until he felt Harry’s sac draw tight. Waited until Harry was reduced to babbling gibberish. He waited until the first spurt of come erupted from Harry. Then, now that the time was right, he sank his fangs into the heated flesh of Harry’s groin and sucked.

Harry whimpered with the intensity of the orgasm ripping through him; spunk pulsed over his chest before he slipped into oblivion.

The feel of a flannel swiping at his stomach, warm and wet, drew Harry back to the room around him. “Charlie?” Harry asked, his voice deep and hoarse.

The older man stopped his ministration and raised his head to look at Harry. “Yes, love. Who else?”

“No one… ever.” The blood loss and post coital bliss left Harry lethargic. Charlie finished cleaning Harry, curling around the limp form after banishing the used rag away.

“I’m sorry for hurting you.” He pressed soft kisses of apology into Harry’s hair.

“You didn’t,” Harry stammered. “Well, you did but it was wonderful. All of the feelings at once; I didn’t know what to do.”

Charlie chuckled, ruffling Harry’s hair with his warm breath. “Sleep Harry. We’ll talk about this later.”

Harry pressed his hips into Charlie’s erection. “But you…”

“Are fine,” he said, cutting Harry’s words off. “Rest now. We will see to that later.”

Harry gave up the argument; sleep sounded so good right now. The arms cocooning him with warmth and safety pulled tighter. As he drifted off, he heard Charlie whisper, “I love you, my own.”

… … …

Harry warily stepped into the kitchen at the Burrow, not sure how his return would go after four and half months away; especially since the away had been with their recently changed vampire son. “Harry,” Molly cried, wrapping Harry up in tight hug. “You’re back! How’s Charlie? Did he look okay? Is he keeping his distance from those dragons now? Did you meet his donor? Will we like them?”

“Mum,” the young man in question called from the door. “He might be better able to answer if you gave him a minute between questions, yeah.”

All eyes in the kitchen focused on the doorway. “Charlie?”

“Hi Mum,” Charlie replied softly.

Arthur, keeping his wits about him, gave the permission his son had been waiting for. “As head of this house, Charlie, I invite you and your donor into our home.”

A second after the words were spoken, Charlie was ensconced in the arms of his parents. Soon Ron and Ginny, the only other children there, joined in the group hug. Harry and Hermione stood back and watched the family reunion, tears of happiness dampening their cheeks.

Molly pulled back, looking around Charlie to the door. “Where’s your donor, Charlie? I want to meet them.”

Harry knew the question would be coming; the question now was how everyone would take the news. Charlie shimmied out of the group and moved to stand directly behind Harry. “Harry,” he said to his family. “Harry is my donor.”

The silence was oppressive, everyone waiting for the leaders of the family to react. It was Arthur who recovered first, asking, “Harry is your donor? Temporarily, until you find a permanent one?”

Charlie looked at Harry, letting the younger wizard decide if he wanted to Charlie to take this one or not. Holding Charlie’s gaze, Harry reached beneath the neck of his jumper and pulled. Gasps of surprise could be heard around the kitchen as the Tepes clan crest came into view, along with the two small scars from the bonding.

“Harry,” Charlie said, eyes and tone full of love and devotion, “is the permanent one, the only one.” Leaning in he added quietly, just for Harry to hear, “I want to taste only you… ever.”