Title: The Last Curse

Summary: Harry Potter never meant to captured, and he certainly never meant to be rescued by Draconian Malfoy. It certainly didn't help the rumors, and it certainly didn't help the way she always seemed to look down on him. But really, it hadn't been his fault he'd ended up stuck in a hole while trying to prevent the necromancers from taking over the world.

Warnings: Some minor violence

Pairings: Draconian Malfoy/Harry Potter

Author's Note: This story if for Zephyrdor, who asked for a HarryXfem!Draco fic! Thanks so much for asking, and I'm so sorry for taking so long. I hope this meets your expectations, love!

This is a Fem!Draco story. Draco's full name in this story is Draconian, which is a type of Dragon, just like Draco means Dragon or serpent, so I think it's fitting.

Disclaimer: I am writing this for fun and not profit. I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters therein.

Harry stared at the stone wall in front of him, cursing. Whether he was cursing the wall or himself, he really wasn't sure. He supposed it wasn't really the wall's fault that he's been stupid. He should have paid attention; he should have cast the Trap Detection Spell he'd been taught in Auror training. He could only imagine the scolding Hermione would give him when he got out. The look Shacklebolt, the head Auror and his boss, would cast Harry.

Merlin, he kept telling them to get off his back but the second they let him check out a lead by himself, he landed himself into a trap. How idiotic could he be?

It was just… He couldn't be around her anymore. He couldn't. If he had to receive one more scalding look from Dracona, he was going to scream. Well, actually he'd already done that. At her, and she'd stood there and stared at him with that disapproving look on her face that she always had when she thought he was doing something entirely stupid, and somehow he had become the bad guy even though she was the one who had antagonized him first.

He stepped forward, putting his hand along the wall and pushing with his palm as if it would move. Then he sighed, turning in a full circle and seeing nothing but the same stone walls all around him. He was in some kind of stone pit. The floor had gone out from under him when he'd tripped the wire, and he hadn't been quick enough to avoid falling. He had no idea where his wand was.

Yet another thing Dracona could scold him about later. She was fond of reminding him of every particular time he'd lost his wand. She didn't seem to remember that sometimes an Auror had to be impulsive in order to get things done. Not that he was about to say thing. The last time they'd had that argument, they'd destroyed the conference room.

And somehow only Harry had gotten in trouble, having to stand in Shacklebolt's office and listen to a long speech about taking unnecessary risks. Dracona and him had had another argument about tattling on each other after that.

He jumped, cursing as his fingers scraped against solid stone with no handholds or anything. No way he was climbing out of this pit. He was pretty stuck. Well, until whoever had set up the trap came to check it again. He tried not to consider how long that could be.

"Harry?" he jumped when the voice echoed down from above. When he looked up, he could just make out the tumbling blonde hair from the silhouette above.

"Dray?" he called back, and the form shifted.

"Don't call me that, Potter," the voice snapped back, convincing him that it was indeed Dracona above him. She'd always hated it when he called her that, insisted that it was the reason the rumors had started about them. He was sure they had been around before any nickname he'd used for her but let her believe what she wanted. It wasn't like Harry was going to stop; he needed every advantage when it came to annoying Dracona.

Besides, as much as the rumors bothered Harry, he never did anything to discourage them, because at least he had the satisfaction of seeing Dracona snap at someone who wasn't him when she heard them.

"How did you get down there?" she asked, the disapproving tone already in her voice, because even though he hadn't answered, she already knew.

"I… fell," he answered, and he heard The Look from above him.

"And I suppose this is your wand up here too."

"Um… yeah."

"Of course," Dracona answered, and her figure shifted to the side, leaning even further down, long blonde braid draped over her shoulder as she did. He just saw her wand arm gesturing down, the flick that meant she was pointing her wand at him. He supposed he should be wary; it wouldn't be the first time she'd cursed him. But at the same time, he knew Dracona wouldn't hurt him, not really.

She flicked her wrist, and he felt the unmistakable hold of her magic settling around him, lifting him up off his feet and floating steadily up toward the entrance of the stone trap. He shouldn't have come alone. The case he and Dracona were working on was dangerous enough without him walking haphazard into a trap and making her save him.

They were chasing down a group of wizards who had already raided a muggle cemetery, killed a wizard with dark arts, and stolen a cat. Why a cat, Harry had no idea. Dracona had said something about ancient rituals that had sent Hermione scampering away as if she was speaking some magical wisdom, but left Harry staring at her in confusion.

She'd just rolled her eyes when he asked her to clarify.

Dracona gasped out a muffled sigh when Harry reached the edge of the pit. He lurched, feeling her lose her strength after holding his weight with her magic for so long, and he grabbed the ledge, pulling himself up the rest of the way until he was standing next to her.

They were in a long corridor, a door just off to the left side and another about twenty feet to the right. Harry knew they were on the first floor, but there must have been some kind of basement or something if the strange pit he'd just been levitated out of was anything to go by. He shivered; the whole mansion was really pretty creepy. It had looked abandoned from the outside, but he soon realized it was actually pretty fancy once he'd gotten a little ways in.

"Thanks," he said, and she frowned at him, grey eyes narrowed slightly. Her long blonde hair was braided down her back, only one or two hairs falling out to frame her face. She was dressed in identical robes to his, except hers were tailored to females instead of males, clinging to her hips and breasts in a way that was entirely too distracting. He could still remember the first week after they'd become partners; Dracona casting a stinging hex at him every time she caught him staring.

Which had been entirely too many times.

Maybe that was why there were rumors about them being together. Or maybe it was because a guy and a girl couldn't work together without it being sexual.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

"What?" he answered, frowning at her. "Why are you here?"

"I just saved your life," she snapped at him. "Don't ask me why I'm here."

"Exactly," he snapped back. "If you don't know why I'm here, how did you know I'd be here to need my life saved." In the back of his mind, Hermione's voice sounded in his head, telling him he was being stupid. That Dracona was his partner, not his schoolyard enemy like when they were back in school.

He remembered when Ron, Dracona, and him had been in Auror school, when Dracona and him had fought so much the instructors had had to pull them apart every other week. When Hermione had first started to get to know Dracona and become her friend and had scowled and scolded the three of them until they would all shut up and stand to be in the same room just for her.

But even now, when Ron and Hermione were engaged, and Dracona and Harry were partners, and they all could admit that they might actually like each other, arguing was just the way they did things. It was comfortable to snap at each other and expect to be snapped at. Even after they'd become friends, even after they'd started calling each other by their first names, coming over to each other's houses, complaining about co-workers, doing each other's paperwork, asking favors, that one time he'd used Dracona's wand because he'd lost his own, they still argued. Would probably always argue.

"I knew where you were because when someone didn't show up back at the office after five hours…" Dracona answered, rolling her grey eyes at him as if it she was answering the dumbest question she'd ever heard. "I asked Shacklebolt where you might be. Of course, he said you'd run off somewhere on your own and pointed me in this direction."

"Oh," Harry said.

"Yes, oh," she snapped.

"Well, you don't have to be so smug about it," he answered.

"And you don't have to be so-," she cut off abruptly, turning to the side as a loud echoing bang sounded down the corridor around them. "What was that?" she asked, but Harry just grabbed her by the sleeve of her robe, yanking her off the side and behind a table just as the door to the right opened, letting three black hooded figures into the corridor.

"The wizards," Harry whispered.

"How do you know?" Dracona answered.

"They look like bad guys," he said, and she snorted. The three figures moved over to the pit in the floor, one of them leaning over the side to look in while the other two watched.

"You're sure the trap was sprung?" one asked, "It didn't just go off? These traps are old."

"Maybe?" the one leaning over the side answered. "I don't see anything down there."

"Don't decide too quickly," a new woman came into the corridor; her black hair fell past her shoulders, ending at the small of her back and shimmered in the low light as she walked. And she was… beautiful; high cheekbones with slanting dark eyes and full lips that barely trembled as she spoke. "I don't want to be caught off guard," she said, her voice low and echoing and the sound sent a shiver down Harry's spine. And he was suddenly tilting forward, his body moving before his mind caught up with his actions, trembling as the woman before him continued to speak, low and entrancing.

"…rry! Harry!" Dracona's hand on his arm shook him so hard, his teeth rattled, and he jerked, turning toward her and feeling dazed, startled, knowing something was wrong but not knowing what it was. "Harry, snap out of it!" she said, and her voice sounded so far away. So far-

"Harry Potter," the woman said, looking straight at him. He tried to move toward her, but Dracona was suddenly in the way. He could see her lips moving, but he couldn't hear her, couldn't focus on her past the shimmering light in the woman's beautiful dark eyes.

"Stop that," Dracona told her, and the witch in front of her just laughed.

The cemetery, the wizards, the cat, artifacts that had been stolen last week that everyone had dismissed. She'd read the possibility in one of Granger's books but had dismissed it almost immediately. It was an ancient type of magic, almost impossible to actually use, much less master. And yet…

"Succubus magic is illegal," she heard the words coming out of her mouth, and she knew how ridiculous she sounded, but she couldn't stop herself. The witch threw back her head and laughed loudly, looking completely unconcerned as the three robed figures around her skittered away nervously. And Dracona realized with a start that they must all be men. There was no other way she could be controlling them. Controlling Harry.

"It may be illegal," the witch said. "But that doesn't make it any less fun."

Succubus Magic was one of the worst kinds of magic. A combination of Legilimency and imperio, using the power of one's voice. Like the type of demon it was named after, the magic only affected men. The running theory was something to do with sexual attraction, but Dracona was pretty sure that wasn't true.

"Stay away from him," Dracona told her, still standing in front of Harry, though logically she knew that wouldn't matter.

"But what fun would that be?" the witch answered.

"I don't care about your fun," Dracona stepped forward, her fingers tight on her wand.

"Careful," the witch smirked, raising one finger, and Dracona turned to look where she was pointing. "Harry, dear, do stop breathing." And Harry immediately let out a startled gasp. His hands flying up to wrapped around his own throat, an alarmed look on his face as his mouth bobbed open, and the witch laughed loudly.

"Stop," Dracona stepped back, holding her wand out in surrender. "Just… stop." And the witch's smile was cold and triumphant.

"Thank you, Harry, that's enough," she said, and Harry breathed a ragged breath in as one of the robed figures stepped forward, pulling the wand out of Dracona's hand and pointed his own at her.

She wanted to tell him it didn't matter, that it wasn't necessary; she wasn't about to do anything. Not when Harry was standing there swaying on his feet, looking dazed and entranced, and Dracona wanted to hit someone. If only it would actually make a difference.

She didn't bother to say anything.

Dracona arrived in the Ministry first, stepping through the employee entrance and stopping, waiting for Harry to come in behind her. It was only another minute before he did, stepping through and smiling blankly as he did. She just turned her face away, heading further into the Ministry.

"You'll do what I tell you to do, or I'll kill him," the witch had told Dracona. And she had tried to argue; she had.

"If I let you get into the Ministry, a lot more than just us will die," she'd answered, but the witch just smiled thinly.

"Yes, but you don't really care, do you?" the witch had asked. "Because you're in love with him," and Dracona stared at her, because how could she possibly know something like that. How could she know something that Dracona had tried her best to make sure no one knew. No one had to know. Because it was her problem.

"Don't be so surprised," the woman laughed. "It was written all over your face when I got control over his mind."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Dracona answered.

"We people are such funny things, you know," the witch continued, talking as if she'd never spoke. "We'd rather sacrifice a hundred people than the one that we love."

"I won't-," Dracona had started, shaking her head, denying what they both knew was going to happen.

"You'll do what I say, or your precious Harry Potter will die," she said, and Dracona really hadn't had any more denials left in her. Not in that moment.

And of course, now she and Harry were inside the Ministry, doing exactly what the demon had wanted, because yes, Dracona was horribly, terribly in love with Harry, and she knew it was pathetic, but she just couldn't help it. Not when he looked at her and smiled with those green eyes, not when he laughed at Dracona's jokes, not when they stayed up too late gossiping and forgetting the time, not even when they were arguing, and Harry's eyes were flashing, and they was shouting at each other.

She didn't know if he felt the same, wasn't sure if she wanted to know. She'd have thought if he felt even an inkling of the same thing, he'd have been more bothered by the rumor. He would have been more flustered when they were caught alone in the meeting room and it was immediately assumed they were about to have sex. He would have picked up on her hint when she'd said he could have just stayed the night.

They turned left, heading straight for the lift. And no one really bothered them as they headed out. It was too common to see Harry and Dracona marching through the Ministry, avoiding looking at each other, disheveled and looking a mess. Well, Harry looked a mess. Dracona would never let herself look a mess. She was a Malfoy after all.

They stepped into the lift, Harry automatically signaling for the Department of Dark Art's floor while Dracona stared at him. A Ministry worker in dark robes walked up to the lift, saw them, blushed and abruptly turned around. Dracona rolled her eyes to the ceiling as the lift doors slid shut, and they were alone, and it was now or never. And she couldn't afford for it to be never.

She stepped straight into Harry's space, taking his face between her hands and turning him to look at her. He didn't fight her; he just furrowed his brow, his eyes blank as he stared back. And there was no describing how much it hurt for his usually vibrant eyes to be so dead.

"Harry," she muttered, having to stand on her toes in order to be eye level with him. "Harry, you need to break free of her. I know you can do it. You can fight an imperius curse. This should be nothing," he trembled in her grip, blinking once, twice, his eyes managing to focus on her for a second before blurring again.

"Harry…" she whispered, leaning forward on impulse and pressing her lips against his. Because there was no other choice. Because she needed a way to shock Harry back to reality. Because he was so close.

Because she wanted to so badly.

Lips moving against his, a hand stroking along his hair, nails scraping his scalp, a tongue in his mouth, caressing, stroking along his as it pulled away and out of his mouth in a way that made his shiver, tremble, shake in arms that weren't his own. And his eyes were closed, and he was having entirely too hard of a time trying to open them.

"Come back to me," the voice said, soft, sinful, entirely human and familiar.

"Dray," he whispered, and just barely heard the soft intake of breath over the pounding in his chest, the pounding in his head.

"Harry, please," Dracona whispered, and Harry finally, managed to open his eyes, staring into silver-grey eyes and feeling all the fool for every thinking he could find beauty anywhere else.

"Tell me again what happened?" Shacklebolt ordered, and Harry sighed as Dracona started her explanation. He still felt confused and fuzzy headed, not completely sure himself what had happened. He hadn't wanted to go to Shacklebolt at all, preferring to head back out and confront the witch with just Dracona, but she had been adamantly against his idea. Now, they were stuck in the Head Auror's office, explaining over and over what had happened even though Harry was pretty fuzzy on the details himself.

"…. then she said we wanted us to go to Ministry," Dracona said, finishing her narration. "She wanted us to steal something from the Department of Dark Arts. Some artifact, a book."

"Hmm," Shacklebolt muttered. "Maybe we should get the department of Mysterious involved."

"With all due respect, we don't exactly have time," Dracona answered, leaning forward until her palms were flat on Shacklebolts desk. Harry consciously turned away as her robes clung to her arse, hips, and thighs attractively, a blush creeping across his face. And he couldn't help remembering how it had felt when her tongue had been in his mouth.

It wasn't that he'd never thought about kissing Dracona before. She was horribly distractingly attractive, but she was also unavailable. As in, emotionally. She had shut down every time they'd gotten close to that discussion; she was bothered by the rumors; she glared at him when he looked at her. He'd put the idea so far out of his head that he didn't even think of it anymore. Mostly.

"I agree," Shacklebolt sighed. "We should send a team out. Female Aurors only."

"What?" Harry snapped to attention, looking at Shacklebolt in shock. "I have to go!"

"No, Potter. You've already been bewitched once; I can't allow-."

"Fuck that," Harry stood, stepping toward the desk even as his voice rose unsteadily. "This is my case; you can't just leave me behind."

"It's not safe for you-," Dracona started, and Harry turned on her with a vengeance.

"Not safe! How can you expect me to stay here while you-?"

"Harry!" Dracona snapped, her voice cutting across his with a smooth determination that was always so easy for her. And she had The Look on her face again, that disapproving Look that made her grey eyes stand out hard and cold and beautiful, and Harry felt again like a child being scolded. And he hated it. "You're not going."

"I'll leave the two of you alone to discuss this," Shacklebolt said suddenly. "Malfoy, your team will leave in 30, be ready by then."

"Yes, sir," she said, never taking her eyes off Harry. And there was a tense static silence as they waited for Shacklebolt to leave, but even when he did, they just continued to stare as they waited for the other to speak.

"You're not going," she said finally.

"You already said that."

"It doesn't make it any less true."

"You can't make me stay."

"Damn you, Potter," she snapped, her silver-grey eyes flashing angrily. "Why aren't you capable of making an intelligent decision?"

"Why aren't you capable of treating me like I might just know what I'm doing?"

"Because every time I do, you risk your life unnecessarily," Dracona answered, and she looked horribly frustrated, staring at Harry as if he were the single most exasperating thing she'd ever seen. "Why can't you understand that some things aren't worth your life!" and he blinked at her, staring at the way she was staring.

"Dray…"

"That your life might just be worth a lot to me." And it clicked together so easily why his recklessness bothered her so much.

"I… I don't…" Harry said, his voice trailing off as he looked at her. And he felt so stupid for not catching it sooner. "Why did you kiss me?" He asked finally, and he should have asked her so much sooner, but he had been distracted, and it hadn't seemed important when they were busy arguing about whether to go to Shacklebolt or straight after the witch.

"Haven't you ever wondered why the rumors bother me so much?" she asked, a smile playing across her lips as she stepped forward, and she was suddenly close enough that he could feel her breath across his face as she spoke. "It's not because I don't care. It's because I'm afraid that you never seem to."

"I…" Harry stared at her as she stepped even closer, ducking her head and letting little wisps of blonde hair fall into her face. "When you say care…?"

"Just…" she murmured, her lips an inch away from his. "Stay. If not for yourself, for me," and then her lips were pressing against his, soft and full and easy. He started to move forward, but she was already pulling away, one last breath against his lips. "Please." By the time he opened his eyes, the door was swinging shut behind her, and he knew how hard it was for her to say please, how hard it was for her to ask anyone for anything.

They were going systematically through the mansion, their wands out as they moved. They'd stunned one of the wizards, leaving at least two more of them in the house. Them and the witch, who they'd seen no sign of. It was disconcerting, how empty the house felt. Dracona had that feeling tingling through her, the one that she'd gotten when she just knew something was about to go wrong.

Auror James flicked her wrist forward, pointing to the door on the left as she did. Dracona nodded, feeling Auror Johnson shift behind her as she did. She nodded as James' hand touched the door, her wand at the ready. Then it was thrown open, and they rushed inside.

She didn't know what happened next, couldn't understand, couldn't completely process how it had happened. One second they were moving together, their wands in their hands, the next the room was completely dark, and she heard James scream behind her. Johnson shouted something she couldn't hear, and Dracona was turning to help when she tripped over something that felt suspiciously like a body.

She tried to catch herself as she fell, her hands outstretched as she did, and it should have been easy, but she had no idea where her wand went, no idea when she'd even lost it. But suddenly she was laying across the floor, her entire body limp and lose and feeling disembodied as the footsteps approached.

Dracona blinked open her eyes, only just realizing that she could, turning her head up to stare at the witch, who was flanked by the two dark robed figures she'd had before.

"Well, well," she said. "Walked right into that trap, didn't you?"

And the last thing Dracona remembered was the pain beating down on her as the frustration took hold.

"What do you mean they haven't come back?" Harry asked, staring at Shacklebolt.

"Harry, there's no reason to-."

"I'm going to-."

"You can't just run-."

"I'm not staying here to-."

"I'm sure there's no cause for-."

"I'm going," Harry snapped. "I've already resisted her once. I'm going."

"Potter-!" Shacklebolt called, standing as Harry darted out the door.

"Harry," Hermione said. She was standing just outside the office, waiting for him as he slammed the door behind him. "You can't go by yourself."

"It's Dracona," he answered, feeling the panic push down on him even as he spoke.

"I know," Hermione said, and she looked just as determined as him. "I'm going with you," Harry hesitated, turning to look back at her. It was easy to forget sometimes that Hermione was friends with Dracona too. That she cared about her too.

"What about Ron?"

"You know he would come but well…."

"He's not a girl?" Harry asked, and Hermione smiled smugly at him.

The first thing Dracona noticed when she awoke were the chains, twisted around her ankles and wrists, twining down and around the chair she was propped in. She groaned as she turned her head, peeling her eyes open to look at the room around her.

"There she is," the Witch' voice echoed around her, and she could tell by draping across the stone walls that they were still in the mansion. "I thought maybe the magic had hit you too hard."

"Where is everyone?" Dracona asked, her head feeling heavy as it pulsed with pain. But as she looked around, she noticed they were alone in the large room. "The Aurors…"

"They're downstairs. In my dungeon," the witch smiled as if they were sharing some private joke. "I don't get rid of people who can be useful later," she answered. "Though for you, I'd make an exception."

"Then do it," Dracona said, tilting her head to glare. "Get it over with."

"Oh, honey," the witch sighed, looking put out. "You don't actually think it'll be that easy, do you?" and she was raising her wand, stepping closer to Dracona, that look in her eyes that promised pain. And Dracona braced herself for it, preparing and ready and determined not to be afraid.

"Stay away from her!" the voice echoed through the room, making the witch freeze. Her eyes widened as she turned to face the dark-haired figure who stood in the middle of the room, his wand pointed at straight at her.

"Harry Potter," the witch murmured, her body language relaxing, turning sultry and confident in the blink of an eye. "All alone? How foolish can you be?" his wand dipped, but he stayed firmly planted as he stared.

"Harry!" Dracona wrenched forward, automatically trying to stand, but the chains around her wrists yanked her back and kept her firmly seated.

"Stay away from her," Harry repeated.

"Come now," the witch asked, her smile wide and self-satisfied. "You don't really want that, do you?" Harry blinked at her, his eyes losing focus even as Dracona watched.

"Harry!" she called out, but he didn't even look toward her, his eyes firmly locked on the Witch. And he should have known better than to show up here. He should have known better than to come here when-

"I…" Harry's voice was barely a whisper of breath, his wand lowering down to his side as the witch stepped forward.

"That's right," she said, stepping forward and eyeing him with a hungry look in her eyes.

"No," Dracona breathed out.

"Oh, yes," she answered, and she was raising her hand to his face, fingers outstretched, and Dracona was pulling against the chains again, trying to find some way, any way to get her away from Harry.

"Duro!" a new voice suddenly snapped, and there was a flash as Hermione Granger stepped out of the shadows, the Hardening Spell flying toward the witch.

She gasped as the spell hit her, her skin freezing, hardening, turning into stone as Dracona watched. And Hermione was stepping further into the room as Harry came running over to Dracona. He pulled on the chains once, twice while Dracona stared at him, too stunned to do anything. Then Hermione was right there, pointing her wand and muttering some spell where the chains were falling lose.

And Dracona was snapping forward, her palm connecting with Harry's face before she could think of what she was doing, and it wasn't even that she was mad; she was just so…

And they were so close, Harry's green eyes wide with shock as he leaned over her, and she put her hands along his cheeks, pulling him down until she was kissing him. And somewhere vaguely, he registered Hermione muttering something about looking for the other Aurors before disappearing.

But she was too focused on kissing Harry, on his hands along her face, his hands in her hair, moving down her face, along her neck, holding her against his body. She kissed him back, her tongue in his mouth, her fingers clasped in his robes. And when he pulled away, there was a wet pop of saliva between them as she gasped for breath. As they stared like they'd never seen each other before.

"How…" Dracona whispered, and she looked an absolute mess. There was blood on her face; more hair falling out of the braid than in it, and the lingering tightening of pain edged around her mouth. "I thought you…"

"I was only pretending," he said. "Hermione was there the whole time." He'd known the only real way to take down the witch would be to distract her. Hermione had agreed, and they'd crept through the mansion being as quiet as they could. On the way up, they'd managed to take out the three cloaked bodyguards, leaving only the witch.

"You shouldn't have come," she said, though there was no real heat behind the words. "It was stupid," and Harry felt himself smile. He figured it wouldn't be Dracona if she didn't scold him.

"Maybe."

"You're an idiot," she told him, and he could tell she was opening her mouth to say something else, probably something even more insulting, but he was already kissing her. And he knew he probably had a good reaming coming from both Shacklebolt and Dracona but at the moment, he couldn't care about anything but the feel of Dracona against him.

~~fin~~