Original Sinn
Chapter Five - Lust
Harry/Draco | R/NC-17 | 11,619 words | 10 December, 2006
Betas: Michelle, IcAurora8 & Omi
Summary: Harry and Draco get thrown together as partners on a stake-out case, and have to learn to live with each other pretty quickly.
Notes: Written for the Two Broomsticks Fic-A-Ton Challenge, Fall 2006. Unfortunately, a Work in Progress. (One more chapter!)
Bold italic text in quotes is Draco speaking through the comm spell, or noise from his end. Italic text in quotes is Harry. :)
Prompt:
HP/DM. "Everything is working out according to the plan and that IS the effing problem!!" Post-war. Harry and Draco are Aurors/cops and have to work on a mission together. Part of said mission consists in catching some bad guy to get something from him. In order to do so, it is decided that Harry would seduce him and gain his trust. The guy starts falling for Harry, but he's not the only one... Draco does too. How will he deal with the newfound attraction?
***
After leaving Harry with his “boyfriend” and a sore bum,
Draco sought out his friend Bradley, one of his more attractive yet
geeky friends, whom he kept around to keep people from hitting on him. It
was especially useful on nights when he just wanted to have a little
fun with his friends. Bradley knew exactly what Draco was doing, and
didn’t mind; in fact, the great thing about being friends with
Draco was that he made the people around him more attractive, and therefore,
Bradley got laid a lot more often than before he had met Draco.
And Draco knew that Bradley had once harboured a crush on him. Most
of his friends had, at one point or another, but Draco wouldn’t
allow any sort of anything to happen with any of them – he valued
their friendship far too much to ruin it like that. Like he had thought
earlier; fucking friends made things messy.
So, when he found Bradley, he was dancing with John, Michael and Preston,
his other some-what geeky friends, and quickly took a hold of Bradley’s
arm and led him into a more private dance, wrapping his arms around
the even taller man.
Bradley rolled his eyes, recognising one of Draco’s moods and
going with it; holding the man closely, though more in comfort than
in attraction.
“So, what’s wrong now?” Bradley asked into Draco’s
ear.
“Wrong? There’s nothing wrong.”
“I know you better than you think, Draco.”
“Kiss me, Bradley.”
“What?”
“I need you to kiss me. There’s a creepy guy watching
us.”
Bradley rolled his eyes again, knowing there was no such person. “Okay,
Draco, whatever you want.” Draco tilted his head up, but Bradley
leaned back. “As long as you tell me the real reason you need
some uncomplicated affection.”
Draco sighed. “It’s complicated.”
“Does it have anything to do with that guy you were just dancing
with who was a Brad-replica?”
“What? Brad-replica? No, no, no. Potter does not look
like you, Bradley. He’s nothing like you at all. He’s much
more annoying, and you’re much classier.”
“Dark hair, glasses…devastatingly cute…you’re
not seeing the resemblance?” Bradley said with a smile.
Draco smiled, leaning forward. “You’re still classier.”
“So you do think he’s devastatingly cute.”
Draco pouted, leaning back again, sans-kiss. “Maybe.”
Bradley smiled and finally kissed Draco, tilting the blonde’s
head back. Bradley certainly was a good kisser, and if Draco ever needed
to feel loved or was just maybe a little horny or feeling particularly
affectionate, he could always turn to Bradley, who was hardly ever
attached (to everyone’s surprise) and he could get what he needed,
usually no questions asked. Though kissing was really all Draco would
allow himself, even if he were very drunk, and Bradley always settled
him down if he wanted more. So now Draco was feeling pleasantly distracted
from his own jealousy when he heard a distinct whimper in his ear.
He broke away from the kiss, gasping. Pressing a finger into his ear
he said quickly and quietly, “Potter? You okay?”
The gasped “yeah” that he heard put a frown on his face
and he stepped away from Bradley, pushing through the crowd to get
to higher ground. He stepped into the bar, finding a spot against a
bit of railing, searching the crowd of gyrating bodies for Harry.
He found him quickly, on the far outside of the mass of bodies, getting
snogged passionately by the Muggle. He felt an immediate flicker
of the jealousy from before in the pit of his stomach, and his nostrils
flared with hatred at James.
Bradley came up next to him. “He’s your partner, isn’t
he?”
Draco nodded. “The shorter one. Potter.”
“And that man is your case, isn’t he?”
Draco looked oddly at him. “I never should have told I was a
detective. Now you’re always too curious about my job.” He
looked back to Harry, watching as James pushed Harry willingly against
the wall and whispered suggestive things to him.
Draco knew it was stupid of him to be so possessive, but seeing Harry
so thoroughly debauched turned him on…and made him so angry. It
should have been him kissing Harry… and touching Harry.
So no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t ignore the overwhelming
urge to go wrench James away and hex him into oblivion.
Bradley’s hand on his shoulder grounded him, pulling back his
desires to severely hurt his case. He couldn’t hurt James, or
approach him and Harry – it’d ruin the whole case, and
Harry was so close to breaking it. Draco knew that Harry could
get the information they’d need to obtain the artefact and catch
the wizard behind its disappearance tonight, if he played his cards
right.
Draco ducked back into the crowd as he saw Harry and James come his
direction, headed for the bathrooms. Bradley followed him dutifully,
sitting down next to him in a recently vacated booth, putting an arm
around his shoulders. Draco shrugged it off, folding his hands on the
table and glaring at a scratch on the neon Plexiglas surface like it
had personally offended him.
“Draco. Love. You like this Potter guy a lot, don’t you?” Bradley
asked, leaning into Draco’s side.
“He’s not even gay, Bradley,” Draco replied
loudly, trying to drown out the noises Potter was making in his ear.
Bradley got a strange look on his face. “Then what the-”
“It’s all pretend, Brad. It’s all just fucking pretend!” Draco
growled, pulling his hands through his hair and to the back of his
neck, keeping his head down and feeling very sick as James asked Harry
if he could suck his cock.
Oh fuck, I think I’m gonna be sick all over this table…
Steeling his voice, he kept his head down and said lowly, “My
last bit of advice to you for the night, Potter. Try not to act like
a straight man. Or a virgin. You’ll embarrass me, and you’ll
blow it.” Then he whispered Finite Incantatum and snapped
off the comm, quite aware that Potter probably hadn’t heard him
the entire time James’ tongue had been down his throat. But he
just couldn’t take Potter’s noises anymore.
“Could you hear what was going on in there?” Bradley asked, “With
your invisible listening device?”
“It’s called a comm, Bradley, and it’s in my ear,
you just can’t see it. And yes, to answer your question, so I
turned it off.”
“What if he gets in trouble? Shouldn’t you still be in
communication with him?”
“Potter can take care of himself,” Draco said darkly. “I
need a stiff drink.”
“Got one right here, mate,” John said, and Draco looked
up to see his other three friends standing at the table, all with drinks
in their hands.
Draco took his drink from Preston, nodding in thanks to the tall,
midnight-coloured man, who had deep black eyes and a brilliant white
smile. Preston was the more serious one out of the group, being a doctor
or something important or another, and he always dressed with impeccable
adult taste – never one to just throw something on and look like
a completely gay twink with no fashion sense. He was most definitely classy.
John, Preston and Michael all slid into the booth around Draco and
Bradley. John gave Bradley his own drink, and then proceeded to babble
about a hot guy he had just been dancing with.
“Then why are you over here, sitting with us and not getting
shagged in the back room?” Draco asked, taking a gulp of his
blissfully alcoholic drink.
John shot Draco a confused look. “Because you’re my friend.
And you’re obviously down and out ‘bout something – that’s
more important than getting laid, Draco.”
Draco looked away from John’s straight face, with his soft blue
eyes, and longer golden brown hair, suddenly glad that all of his friends
were there. It was comforting in a way that Draco couldn’t describe
right then.
Fuck Potter. If he wanted to leap off the cliff of homosexuality,
then he could bloody-well do it without Draco.
“So, what’s bothering you, Draco?” Michael asked,
looking over his beer at the blond with almost amber-coloured eyes. “It
must be big if you got Brad here to snog you again.”
“It’s just this stupid case I’m working on,” Draco
said, glaring at the brunet with the hawk’s eyes for his comment
about Bradley.
“And his stupid partner,” Bradley put in, ignoring Draco’s
icy glare swinging his way. “That was the guy he was dancing
with earlier.”
The men around the table all nodded in understanding. “He was
cute,” John said, ever the walking hard-on.
“I told Draco that he was obviously trying to replace me,” smirked
Bradley, looking at Draco and putting his arm back around the glowering
blond.
Eventually, Draco sighed, leaning against Brad’s side heavily.
Preston laid his dark hand against his pale arm in a reassuring gesture. “It’ll
be alright, little one,” he said. “I’m sure that
your case will work out, and your partner will get what he deserves.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Don’t call me little. I’m
six foot. You’re six foot four.”
“Yes, but you’re still our ‘little one’.”
“Oh please, just because I’m the youngest-”
“Stop arguing, Drake,” Bradley cut in. “You’re
our youngest member, get over it. We like to watch out for you.”
“I hate it when you call me ‘Drake’.” Draco
then snorted, thinking about Brad’s last comment. If only
they knew… “And I can bloody-well take care of myself,
okay?”
“Yes dear,” John said patronisingly, leaning across Bradley
to smack a kiss onto Draco’s forehead.
“Agh!” yelled Draco, sitting up and rubbing at his skin. “Don’t do that!” He
turned to the man sitting on his right. “And for your information
Preston, the only thing Potter deserves is to be analy raped by that
stupid asshole in his ‘completely’ straight arse.”
“He’s straight?” John asked, looking crestfallen.
“Supposedly. I was hoping to change his mind,” Draco added,
leaning back into Bradley.
“I’m confused,” Michael said, always the quiet,
thoughtful one. “You were dancing with him, here, at a gay club
and he’s straight?”
“Long story,” Draco said, closing his eyes.
“Aw…our baby’s tired. We should get him out of
here,” Bradley said, kissing Draco on the head.
“But it’s still early!” John whined. “And
we came all the way out here!”
“I’ll stay with you, John,” Michael offered.
“No,” Draco said forcefully, opening his eyes and sitting
up. “I’m not going anywhere.” He shifted in the rounded
booth, nudging Preston out with a light push. Preston complied, letting
Draco out. He stood, slammed back his drink and said, “Screw
it. Potter can look out for his own arse. Let James keep the fuckin’ thing.” Then
he pulled Bradley out of the booth too, saying, “Come on, Bradley.
Dance with me.”
Draco then pretended to forget about Potter, the case, and anything
else that took him away from him and his friends dancing together and
drinking together, and the thumpa-thumpa of the gay life midnight grind.
***
Harry’s heart fluttered nervously the whole ride to Sameson’s
flat. He couldn’t contain his anxiety over being totally alone
with a man who was capable of who-knew-what. He felt like Draco had
utterly abandoned him – Oh, was that arsehole going to get a
telling off when he got back to the hotel. Talk about hypocritical.
Now, it wasn’t as if Harry didn’t feel he could defend
himself if he had to – he’d been doing it long before Draco
had entered the picture. But what if Sameson had used the artefact,
and was just hiding it well? He was smart – who knew what was
really going on?
Sooner than Harry would have liked, the motorbike pulled up to a darkened
building, with a few big windows and a glass door, complete with a “closed” sign,
the pawnshop hours, and shades to block the valuables inside from view
after dark.
As the engine revved down and turned off, Harry got off the bike and
took off his helmet; observing the block. It was relatively quiet,
with a few cars rolling past on their way home. The street had a few
scattered businesses, all dark. Harry looked at the pawnshop for the
first time, thinking about possible escape routes. Unfortunately, there
wasn’t much to see from the pavement.
Jamie parked the bike and took Harry’s helmet from him, taking
his own off and smiling up at his building. “So this is home – do
you like it?”
Harry smiled, trying not to look as nervous as he felt. “I haven’t
seen the inside yet.”
Jamie laughed. “Come on then; let’s get you upstairs.” He
grabbed the handlebars of his bike and started pushing it, up onto
the curb.
Harry followed him past the front of the store and around the corner
to the side of the building, where a metal door stood. Jamie unlocked
this door; both the handle and the bolt lock, and opened it, pushing
his bike inside. Harry came in right after, and found himself in a
dimly lit entry way, mostly filled with the bike that Jamie was chaining
to a fixture on the wall, and a long, narrow wooden staircase, reaching
up to a landing with another door.
Jamie finished locking up his bike and set the helmets on the seat,
taking Harry’s hand and leading him up the stairs. “This
is basically the main entrance, but there’s another one just
behind the front counter of the shop,” he said, by way of some
explanation.
“Oh,” was all Harry could think to say, and he watched
as James unlocked this new door, holding it open and letting Harry
step over the threshold. It was dark, but not for long; James flicked
on a light, and Harry was standing in a small alcove looking into a
modest kitchen, past which he could see a darkened living room.
“It’s not much,” James started, watching Harry’s
face.
Harry immediately turned to him, smiling. “I like it.”
Smiling in return, Jamie took off his leather jacket, placing it on
a hook behind Harry. He then helped Harry out of his jacket, and Harry
felt his nervousness come back when Jamie breathed on his neck and
kissed it.
“I’ve been hard this whole time, you know,” the
other man said, and Harry knew his cheeks were turning pink. “Riding
the bike all the way here, thinking about what I want to do to you…”
Swallowing was difficult, but somehow, Harry managed. “And what
do you want to do to me?”
“All kinds of things, Harry,” Jamie said, sliding
his hands around Harry’s slim waist from behind.
“Don’t you want to show me the rest of your flat? Or the
pawnshop? You know how I said I like strange artefacts and antiques…have
you gotten anything like that recently?”
Jamie chuckled and turned Harry around. “Are you avoiding me,
Harry?”
A new flush come over Harry’s cheeks and he said, “Er…”
Jamie’s smile grew soft. “Am I your first?”
“No!” Harry exclaimed, perhaps a little too quickly. “No,
er….it’s just…I haven’t been in a whole lot
of relationships…actually, I’ve been in about one. I’m
just nervous, that’s all.”
“I’m not going to hurt you, Harry.”
“I know,” Harry replied, not believing it. “I’m
just…you know…not sure. A-about…where this is
going.”
The look on Jamie’s face was partially amused, and partially
confused, but instead of replying, he leaned down and kissed Harry
softly on the lips. His heart beating wildly, Harry kissed him back,
closing his eyes after a moment to try and clear his head of its cobwebs.
But it wasn’t really working. Jamie was still kissing him slowly,
but he was pressing harder, deepening it and tilting Harry’s
head back, pushing his hands through Harry’s thick hair. It felt
good. Too good. Harry knew he had to keep a clear head, and getting
snogged and touched was not helping with that goal.
Once again, he mentally cursed Draco for being a great, big prat.
Jamie, still kissing Harry, started pushing the shorter man back,
through the hardwood floored kitchen, to the carpeted living room.
Harry’s knees hit the armrest of the couch, and he broke away,
glancing back before looking up at Jamie.
Oh my god…I’m not going to have to sleep with him
to get the information I want, am I?
Jamie pulled off his own shirt, and finally, Harry saw just what his
bare chest and arms looked like. As if he couldn’t help himself,
Harry reached out his hand and touched the warm skin, and saw Jamie’s
muscle flex slightly under his touch.
Jamie’s hand covered his, holding it against his chest as he
leaned down and started kissing Harry again. Harry slid his bare arms
around Jamie’s neck, pulling down, which resulted in them toppling
back onto the couch, laughing and chuckling, because they had landed
in such a strange position.
Harry pushed himself up and back, lying out on the sofa, then watched
as Jamie crawled up to lay on top of him, slowly lowering his weight
down. Harry could feel his erection now, and it was maybe a little
weird, but he could also feel his own pressing back, and the intoxicating
heat of a larger body on top of his, and it was okay.
“Kiss me,” Harry found himself saying, not even thinking
about where it might be coming from.
Jamie complied, resting the remainder of his weight on top of Harry,
his elbows the only thing holding him up as he leaned down to kiss
Harry slowly. His hands rested near Harry’s head, and he could
feel Jamie idly playing with strands of his hair as they kissed. Harry
put his hands on Jamie’s sides, and he could tell that his hands
were colder than he thought, because Jamie’s skin burned and
the man twitched slightly beneath his fingertips. Soon, his fingers
warmed up, and Harry smoothed his hands over Jamie’s back, feeling
the soft skin, and the strong shoulders, and Harry felt a thrill he
couldn’t deny anymore; he most definitely was enjoying this.
With a man.
But what about sex with a man? A part of him asked.
Jamie had moved on to his ear and neck, and Harry had a hard time
focusing on that thought.
As Jamie shifted down, Harry automatically parted his knees a little,
allowing for Jamie’s body to slide between them. Jamie’s
left hand snuck underneath Harry’s tight shirt, and started pushing
it up, leaning away from Harry’s body as he exposed more and
more skin. Jamie’s mouth latched on to Harry’s left nipple,
and Harry arched up, crying out softly, wondering when he had become
like such a girl. Being with Ginny had never been like this – Harry
had never felt like giving himself over so freely.
But he wasn’t, he reminded himself. He couldn’t. Sameson
James was a case, not a boyfriend.
But Harry still hoped he’d move on to the other nipple soon.
As Jamie moved down farther, Harry moved his hands up and over his
shoulders, playing lightly with Jamie’s longer hair.
“Am I taking too long, Harry?”
“Hmm…what? Too long? Umm...no…not too long…” he
murmured, focusing on the tingling feeling in his belly.
Jamie suddenly moved up, lying back down again against Harry’s
chest, and now Harry could feel Jamie’s hot skin directly on
his. Jamie smiled, and kissed Harry with sudden hunger, grinding his
arousal into Harry, right between his legs.
Harry moaned loudly, caught by surprise, but not unhappy because of
it. Everything was feeling so good, and Jamie’s hands were now
on his sides, and no small part of him shivered in response.
His own arms tightened around Jamie’s neck, and then Jamie ground
down again, and broke off, saying harshly in Harry’s ear as he
continued to rub against him,
“I want you, Harry. I know I keep saying that, but it’s
true. I want you so badly; all around me…I want to be inside
of you. Please, say you’ll let me.”
Again, Harry felt that strange ache very close to where Jamie was
grinding now, and didn’t know how to respond. “I-”
“Say you’ll let me feel you.”
Suddenly, another ache was felt, and Harry blurted out, “I have
to use the bathroom!”
Jamie jerked back, stunned. “What?”
“I…er…could you show me where your toilet is?
You’re, er...pressing on my bladder. I think that one drink I
had ran through me already,” Harry said, sheepishly looking away.
Overcoming his shock, Jamie started laughing, his head dropping back
down to Harry’s ear. “You are my virgin little school-teacher,
aren’t you?” he said, nuzzling Harry’s ear.
“What?! No! I just…need to use the loo…”
Jamie raised his head, smiling. “I swear if you weren’t
so adorable I’d have dropped you for someone a little more willing.”
Harry frowned. “That wasn’t very nice…”
Jamie kissed him quickly on the lips. “I wasn’t trying
to be mean.” Jamie started to stand. “But to be honest,
Harry, you do seem awfully nervous. It’s endearing, don’t
get me wrong, but if there’s something wrong, you can tell me.” He
helped Harry stand. “You’re clean right?”
“Huh? Clean?” Harry asked, realising the meaning behind
the question before he even finished speaking. “Oh, yes! Of course!
I don’t have AIDS or anything. I would have told you before you…” Harry
looked down. “I’m just…you know. Nervous about being
with another person. I’ve only been with…I mean, had one
partner,” he added, feeling ridiculous.
Jamie took his hand and led him around the couch to a door against
the wall. “Here’s the loo. Come out whenever you’re
ready.”
Ready for what? Harry thought as he ducked into the room and
shut the door behind him.
He hadn’t lied; he did actually have to use the loo. But he
also had to clear his head and think about just what the fuck he was
doing. How far was he willing to let Jamie take him? This was all so
new, and Malfoy sure as hell wasn’t there to help. How far was
just far enough that James wouldn’t be too suspicious if he called
it off?
He couldn’t have sex with him….no, no, nonono. He was
even surprised he had let James suck him off. It wasn’t that
Ginny hadn’t done that before….but he had barely even
thought he might like men, and it was so public…with Malfoy
listening in…. Harry’s throat constricted when he thought
of the scathing words he was sure to hear from Draco about it. So…what
to do?
Harry turned to the toilet, relieving himself. There were two options,
really. One, he could go as far as he could that didn’t involve
James’ dick and his ass and without feeling totally freaked out
(because even in Harry’s opinion, it would be awfully suspicious,
not to mention rude, not to at least reciprocate James’ earlier
gesture in the loo.); or two, he could just tell James that he just
couldn’t go any further. The second option was entirely doable,
but really, Harry was afraid that James might not be as understanding
as he seemed to be.
Or, he’d see straight through Harry, and realise that Harry
was indeed, not gay.
Because he wasn’t, really. So he was enjoying kissing a guy,
and yes, perhaps they did look nice nearly naked, but he still liked
girls, so he couldn’t be completely gay.
Some part of him whispered secretly that he was strangling himself
with denial, but Harry dismissed it without another thought.
Yet as he washed his hands Harry suddenly got a flash of Malfoy’s
smooth, perfectly rounded ass, all creamy skin and delicious curves
and some rush of desire suddenly blossomed in his groin, and he nearly
groaned out loud.
Holy fuck…
Okay…so maybe Malfoy’s ass turned him on. That should
be weird, shouldn’t it?
Harry, knowing he couldn’t stall any longer, shook off the residual
feelings involving his near orgasm and images of Malfoy’s ass
and opened the door, gingerly stepping out of the bathroom, scanning
the living room for Sameson. He found him, however, in the kitchen,
still shirtless, preparing something at the stove. As Harry approached,
Jamie said, “Hop up on the counter.”
Harry did so, once he entered the kitchen, letting his legs dangle
off the edge, watching as Jamie made something that looked and smelled
like hot cocoa. The older man finished stirring the steaming pot, and
carefully poured the drink into two large mugs, handing one to Harry.
“My mum’s secret recipe. You looked like you might need
it.”
Harry blew on it for a moment then sipped. It was the richest hot
cocoa he’d ever had. “It’s really good,” he
said sincerely, smiling. What James didn’t know, was that Harry
had cast a silent detection spell, one that would create a quick but
obvious pattern in the surface of the liquid if it contained poison
of any kind. It was clean. He wasn’t going to chance anything
with a Muggle that worked with wizards. As far as Harry knew, James
had known who he was the second he had told him his name. Thinking
back on it, Harry really should have used an alias, but had been too
nervous at the time to think properly. But hadn’t it been Malfoy’s
job to guide him on this stupid venture? Harry cursed the blond again.
Jamie set down his own mug and moved between Harry’s legs, leaning
his stomach against the counter. He put his large hands on the top
of Harry’s thighs, rubbing his thumbs against the little crease
between Harry’s thighs and abdomen.
“You feeling better?”
“I wasn’t feeling bad,” Harry quipped.
Jamie leaned forward and gently kissed the cocoa away from Harry’s
lips. Then he put his mouth to Harry’s ear and said, “It
feels like you’re not telling me something.”
“About what?” Harry pulled back so he could look James
in the eye. “Look, Jamie, I’m fine. Really. I told you,
I haven’t really been with anyone else, so I get a little nervous
sometimes. I’m not as cock-sure as most gay men, alright?”
Jamie smirked. “I think you should be cock-sure, Harry. You
have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.”
Embarrassed, Harry flushed and took another sip of his cocoa. “Thanks,” he
mumbled.
“If you want, I’ll take you down to the pawnshop now.”
“Okay.”
Harry set his mug down, and as soon as it was stable, Jamie grabbed
him around the waist and pulled him straight off the counter, sliding
a hand under his butt to hold him up. Harry yelped, startled, and automatically
wrapped his arms and legs around Jamie. Jamie laughed, and kissed his
neck. “You’re lighter than you look.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Harry asked
as Jamie walked, Harry in his arms and all, to a door opposite the
front entrance.
“Well, would you rather I say you’re heavier than you
look?”
“I suppose not…” Harry said, conceding, craning
his neck to see behind him, where Jamie was walking down a dim hallway,
which ended in stairs that turned left down behind the counter of the
pawnshop.
Harry was relieved when Jamie deposited him on the wooden counter
next to the register, having felt ridiculous being carried around like
a child.
Okay…now to feign interest in anything old or unusual…Merlin,
I’m going to sound like a ponce.
“This is my shop,” Jamie said, with a grand gesture. “My
partner mostly does the paperwork business side of things, so he’s
not here as often, hence why I live upstairs. Besides, he’s got
his wife and kids to watch after. I usually run the store, and sometimes
find items to sell – you know, things people are trying to get
rid of without realising what they’ve got. Though most of our
business comes from people dropping off things they can’t use
anymore. Old instruments, electronics, CDs, jewellery, that sort of
thing. Antiques, even. Here,” and Jamie walked to a display across
the room, and Harry jumped down to follow. He wondered why Jamie wasn’t
shivering. It was rather cold down here, and even Harry was a little
chilled, though he was only wearing a sleeveless top – not much
more than the other man.
Jamie pointed out an old desk. “This, for example, is a Baroque
writing desk, made of mahogany…nearly two-hundred years old.
We managed to get it for a fairly good price.”
“It’s beautiful,” Harry said truthfully. It had
gorgeous Fleur de Lis carvings on the head of the desk as well as the
drawers, with bronze handles and only a few scratches and gouges in
the surface.
Jamie continued to show him around the shop, pointing out interesting
items that might have had some history, leading him into the main display
room, behind the front area, and back out again. Attached to the register
counter was a jewellery case, filled with glittering jewels and old
pocket watches.
Harry looked at these with interest, searching if maybe the artefact
was hidden amongst the jewels, or perhaps, used in a piece… But
there were no spherical pieces, nothing that looked like it was a mixture
of metals; nothing that exuded large amount of power, drawing Harry
to it. While there were some very beautiful antiques, Harry could see,
and more than a few cheaper rings and settings, there was no artefact.
“Interested in anything you see?” Jamie asked, and Harry’s
head snapped up from its perusal. “You’ve been staring
rather intently at the jewellery case.”
Harry looked back down, this time with less interest. “No, not
really. I mean…I don’t need a pocket watch, and I’m
not exactly a girl,” he replied, gesturing to the necklaces and
more delicate rings. “I just like pretty things.” A flash
of Malfoy’s face appeared in his mental vision, but he dismissed
it.
Malfoy’s not pretty…he’s just my Gays Anonymous
sponsor, he joked half-heartedly in his head.
“And things with a history,” Harry finally added, pushing
his thoughts away.
Deciding he was done looking at the case, Harry hopped back up where
James had put him; on the wooden counter next to the cash drawer. James
automatically moved to stand between his legs, putting his hands on
Harry’s waist. “You’re hot,” he said lowly
in Harry’s ear.
Chuckling despite himself, Harry said, “You really want to get
into my pants, don’t you?”
James looked up, his grin almost feral. “I’d be lying
if I said I didn’t.”
“Don’t you think we’re moving a little fast?” Harry
ventured, worried about the reaction he was going to receive.
James looked at him with a very straight face for a long moment, no
discernable emotion in his features.
“Do you think we’re moving too fast, Harry?” he
finally asked.
“Well…” Harry hedged, “we’ve only known
each other for a week…I’m just not sure I’m ready,” he
finished lamely, feeling like a complete idiot. Not to mention a pansy.
He was sure the girl would enjoy the analogy, if she wasn’t doing
menial labour at the order of the Wizengamot.
Jamie continued to look at him with a straight face. “How far
will you let me take you, Harry?”
Oh yes, put it all on me… he thought bitterly. “Um…I’m
not sure. I wasn’t really thinking about specifics.”
Jamie’s face finally softened and he pulled Harry closer to
him on the counter. “I’ll go slow, and you tell me to stop,
okay?”
Harry swallowed. “Okay.”
James kissed him softly then, pressing then easing off, then pressing
and easing again, and again, then teasing his tongue out to taste Harry’s
lips. Harry parted his lips and met Jamie’s tongue with his own,
welcoming it in.
They kissed like that for many moments, slowly and deeply, and Harry
actually found himself relaxing a little and dropped his tense shoulders,
moving his hands up Jamie’s solid, bare arms to his face and
neck, cradling them in his palms, and pulling James just slightly closer
to deepen the kiss even more.
Jamie wrapped his arms around Harry more securely, pulling him closer
still, and a small little sound of startlement caught in Harry’s
throat as his own arms slid around Jamie’s shoulders and their
passion rose with every kiss and quickly taken breath.
Then Jamie stepped back, pulling away. He looked at Harry for a moment,
then pulled him off the counter and down to the floor, and Harry suddenly
felt very short, though Jamie only had four or so inches on him. Okay,
so maybe that was a lot.
Jamie slipped his fingers under the hem of Harry’s tight shirt,
pulling it up Harry’s chest. Harry lifted his arms, keeping his
face down – he wasn’t sure if he could look at James and
really think about what might happen in the next few minutes. He saw
his shirt fall to the floor through skewed spectacles, and righted
them without thinking. His mind was clear and almost detached, considering
the situation.
He wished he could just stupefy the bastard and be done with
it – but he still didn’t know where the artefact was – if
he even had it.
James stepped closer and touched Harry’s shoulders lightly,
brushing his fingers down the not-quite angular curves to rest them
down near Harry’s wrists, their bare chests barely touching.
He leaned forward; resting his face next to Harry’s and whispered, “I’d
like to taste you. May I?”
Harry turned his head slightly, almost nuzzling Jamie’s collar
as he did so. “I thought you already had.”
Jamie chuckled lowly. “I did…but I want to taste you
differently… Rimming, Harry,” he added with a little amusement
at Harry’s oblivious pause.
Rimming…rimming…OH! Oh god. Um…okay… Harry
thought frantically. He wasn’t completely ignorant to sex with
another man….he just...wasn’t well versed in all of it.
The idea he could understand…the mechanics were still something
he was working out.
“Um…okay…” he finally murmured, knowing
that feeling utterly mortified at his (what he thought of as) obvious lack
of knowledge wasn’t going to help his cause any.
Jamie only smiled warmly, kissing Harry on the cheek. Gently, Jamie
turned Harry around so he was facing the counter. Harry gulped nervously,
almost trembling. As he felt hot breath on his neck, goose flesh sprung
up all over his skin. “Don-don’t you want to go upstairs?”
James kissed his pimpled flesh. “Mmm…I’m perfectly
fine here. I’ve wanted to fuck you against this counter ever
since we got down here.”
Harry almost groaned, surprised the effect those words had on his
libido.
“But don’t worry,” Jamie murmured, “Tell me
to stop as soon as you want me to.”
“O-okay…”
Moving slowly, Jamie circled his hands around Harry’s waist,
teasing his skin and the waistband of his trousers. As Jamie started
unbuttoning his fly, Harry belatedly remembered that Malfoy insisted
that he couldn’t wear his normal boxers and had to instead, wear
something a little more…constricting. “Your normal pants
will be seen in those tight trousers, Potter,” he had said. “Here,
wear a pair of my briefs. Don’t worry, they’re clean.”
Harry had, with much effort, bitten back a retort about the gesture
being a roundabout way to get into Harry’s pants. It wouldn’t
do to anger the man dressing you for your latest date with your non-boyfriend.
Tuning back in to Jamie’s hands, which were now slowly pushing
down Harry’s jeans, he put his hands on the counter to brace
himself. He was afraid that he was going to fall over from weak knees…and
not the good kind. Should he tell him to stop now? Could he still get
the information if he did? Fuck it all.
Jamie’s hands were now teasing his pants down, revealing Harry’s
bare arse and half-hard cock. Jamie’s fingers flittered over
Harry’s length before stroking it once, twice, and a third time;
Harry finding himself getting hard despite the situation. Jamie started
kissing his shoulder then, using an open mouth, nibbling slightly as
he moved across and then down, to the blade. Harry could feel the larger
man move to his knees, kisses following in his wake.
Jamie’s hands were warm – hot even – as they smoothed
over Harry’s back and arse, and his breath was hotter as it ghosted
over his skin. Goose flesh renewed itself over Harry’s exposed
skin, but he swore he could feel it down to his toes.
“Shh…relax. You can tell me to stop.”
Harry dropped his head onto his arms as they bent at the elbow and
grabbed the fringe off his forehead, giving it a good tug and holding
the tension as he breathed in deeply, letting go of the hair as his
exhalation finished. He relaxed slightly, and Jamie kissed the top
of his arse, while gently parting his cheeks.
Harry continued to breathe deeply and slowly, his shoulders almost
heaving with the movement, and his eyes closing tightly to the point
of seeing colours. He had never felt so utterly exposed.
“You’re tense, Harry. Do you want me to stop?”
Harry bit his lip. “No. No, keep going.”
Jamie continued to kiss the skin, teasing lightly with his tongue,
and Harry almost wished he’d just get it over with, but some
part of him was enjoying the torture…so unsure of what the next
sensation would be…it made him hard in anticipation.
Jamie’s hot hands pulled him apart further, and now his tongue
was swiping in long strokes, pressing harder and closer to that never-satisfied
ache, and Harry suddenly realised he wanted it satisfied. He hummed
in pleasure, to let Jamie know that he was okay with the ministrations,
and Jamie delved closer, deeper, and then after a small pause, when
all there was was hot breath across the ache, he stroked his searing,
wet tongue over it, and Harry couldn’t help the gasp that escaped
his mouth, the jerk of his body, or his head snapping up, his eyes
wide with shock.
Oh...Merlin. Oh fucking Christ, that was…
Then Jamie did it again, and Harry moaned. His head dropped back down
and he started to melt, thanking his foresight for needing a leaning
post, because his knees were definitely now weak, and whatever Jamie
was doing with his tongue felt much too good to be a normal form of
sexual gratification…it was too odd a thought to have ever crossed
Harry’s mind as enjoyable.
But then Jamie’s tongue pushed inside, just a little,
and Harry’s eyes flew open again. Gibberish raced through his
mind as he flailed to come up with a mental response of some kind,
but he couldn’t. He had never experienced something so strange,
so different, so arousing, and his over-loaded brain synapses
couldn’t handle it.
The tongue pushed in again, and again, a little deeper, then again,
and deeper still, and Harry wondered how Jamie was doing it. Everything
was just so hot down there…his groin was pooling with
pleasurable heat, and there were hot hands, and breath, and a wet,
hot mouth, and it only seemed to get hotter and faster.
And then it stopped.
Harry shifted suddenly, craning his neck around. “Wh-why’d
you stop?”
Then Harry heard the undoing of a zipper, and he tensed in fear that
Jamie was just going to shove it in him, fuck him like he wanted to,
against this counter.
“Wait – Jamie, what’re you doing?”
“I’m not going to penetrate you, Harry,” he said
calmly, stroking his left hand down Harry’s back. “I just
want to try something…”
Swallowing was painful, and Harry found himself biting the inside
of his cheek hard. And he felt it. It. Jamie’s rock-hard
cock, rubbing wetly against his hole, then down between his cheeks
until it hit the back of his balls.
Oh. Oh…
Harry arched his back, following the movement, and Jamie’s cock
slid down again, hitting his balls, sliding between his slippery crack
and back again. Jamie’s chest suddenly came in contact with Harry’s
cold back, and he shivered and leaned back at the same time, trying
to steal the warmth. Jamie’s arm was next to his on the wood
counter, his other hand burning on Harry’s hip and they rocked
back and forth, Jamie’s cock moving over his hole and down his
crack and hitting his balls, and it was cold, but Harry was sweating,
and he was shivering but he was too hot, and then he was coming for
a second time that night, and Jamie was soon gasping in his ear, and
hot semen was shooting over his crack and on his ball sac, and then
running down his legs as they stood there, panting in exertion.
Jamie kissed his right shoulder, and Harry automatically lifted his
head and craned his neck to share an open-mouthed kiss with the older
man.
“Mmm… Was that okay?” Jamie asked, nibbling on
Harry’s earlobe.
“Yeah,” Harry replied breathlessly.
They stood a little straighter, and Harry could feel more semen slide
down his legs, and it was cooling very quickly and he shivered again.
“You have a nice cock, Harry,” Jamie said, looking down
over his shoulder.
Harry looked down to see that his cock was still a little hard, and
he blushed. “I’d say the same for you, but I haven’t
seen it yet,” he replied, marvelling at his sudden quick thinking. Go
Potter. You can be gay, no problem. He felt like he was trying
to shove it in Malfoy’s face, but for what reason, Harry couldn’t
fathom at the moment.
“Then turn around, silly,” Jamie said, and Harry did so,
immediately looking down; not only to focus on the topic of the conversation,
but to avoid looking at the other man. What they had done was still
registering in Harry’s mind; he wasn’t sure if he was ready
to face it quite so literally.
But really, where he was looking was looking at it about as literal
as he could get. It was softer, but growing hard again, rapidly, as
he stared at it. It glistened with semen and pre-come, and Harry actually
found himself licking his lower lip a little as he looked at the purpling
head.
“You see? I can’t get enough of you.”
Harry blushed, chuckling and glancing up quickly at Jamie for the
first time. “Ah…well, I’d say ‘I’m sorry’,
but I’m sure you don’t care.”
“You’re right, I don’t. Though you will have to
look away from it if you expect me to get my pants back on.”
Laughing, Harry turned around and braced his hands against the counter.
After a few moments, he heard Jamie zip his trousers back and up and
said, “Do you think I could get a towel…it’s…er…really
cold.”
Jamie laughed. “Sure. I’ll be back in a minute.” Kissing
his shoulder, the man left up the stairs, taking two at a time.
Harry let out a long breath as soon as he knew Jamie was out of earshot.
While it had felt good, Harry couldn’t help but feel a little
dirty. He just wanted to get home, and soon.
Oh…That could have been SO much worse…he thought,
trembling inside; wishing he could just take his wand out, clean himself,
and Apparate out of there.
Still in a bit of shock, he steeled his resolve to make it through
the night unscathed, needing so badly to be by himself for a bit. His
nerves had taken almost all they could.
But he knew the night wasn’t over. He still had to deal with
Malfoy.
~~~~~
“Jesus, Draco, you are not that drunk, stand up, will you?”
“Bradley, you’re being mean.”
“No, you’re just inebriated. I can’t believe you’re
staying in a hotel…” he added under his breath, guiding
his friend out of the elevator and down the hall. “Now, which
one’s yours?”
“Six…four…”
“604?”
“No, no….six…six fourteen.”
Bradley looked at the wall plate that stated the room numbers and
the direction they lay, and took a right. Scanning the room numbers
as he passed, he found “614” two doors down on his left. “Okay,
Draco, where’s your key?”
“Hmmm…it’s in mmm-pocket,” the blond murmured
quietly, leaning heavily against his reliable friend.
Bradley rolled his eyes, searching his friend’s pockets, both
front and back before finding the little plastic card and sliding it
into the slot. The indicator light turned green, and Bradley turned
the handle and pushed the door open while trying to find the light
switch, but with Draco leaning on him and threatening to fall over
or take Bradley with him, it was difficult.
“Draco, please. Help a guy out a little, will ya?”
Draco’s response was to lean against Bradley’s chest,
effectively pinning him to the door frame, and to kiss him sloppily.
Bradley held out his right hand to stop the door from swinging back
into his shoulder, and used his left hand to try and push Draco away. “Dr-Draco,
stop,” he said once he got the blond to stop kissing him. “You’re
drunk. And as your friend, I must stop you from embarrassing yourself.”
“You’re so nice, Bradley,” Draco slurred, playing
with Bradley’s lapel. “You know…you are my best
friends…” he frowned and emphasized, “best friend…out
of all my friends, since I started coming to this world outside my
own… You were the first. And I’ve always wondered why
we haven’t dated. I think we should. We’d be good together.”
“Draco, I’m not even going to bother asking you if you
know how silly you sound. You know why we don’t date.
I’d rather not ruin our friendship. It’s bad enough that
I indulge you when I do.”
“Oh, please, Bradley? Please stay with me tonight. Be
with me,” he said breathlessly, kissing Bradley again.
Bradley broke away. “Draco, you don’t want me. You want
Potter.”
Draco pulled away, blinking, then scowling. “I don’t wanna
talk about Potter,” he pouted.
“Malfoy, what the hell is going on?”
***
Thankfully, in Harry’s opinion, James and he had only cleaned
up, gone back upstairs, and finished their hot chocolate, which was “mysteriously” still
warm. (Thank Merlin for silent heating charms, Harry had thought.)
James had seemed a little suspicious, but he seemed to accept Harry’s
suggestion that the cups were insulated and left it alone.
After that, Harry told James that he had probably better be on his
way, because there was no knowing what his roommate had gotten into. “You
worry about your roommate a lot, don’t you?” James had
asked.
“Not particularly,” Harry replied dryly. “He’s
just a great big pillock, and likely to hurt himself if left alone
too long.”
Harry felt smug the whole way home, sitting snugly behind James on
the bike. He hoped Malfoy hurt himself. It would serve him right.
James insisted on taking him all the way to his door, so they rode
the elevator up to the sixth floor, holding hands and murmuring random
thoughts to each other.
“Will you come over for dinner tomorrow?” James asked.
Harry thought on it a moment. “Yeah. I’d like to.”
The elevator pinged and Harry stepped out first, his hand trailing
behind him as James let go. And because he was the first to step out,
when he hit the edge of the alcove the elevator was in, he saw Draco
and some man making out in the hallway.
Springing into action, Harry spun around and pushed a startled James
back into the elevator, just narrowly missing the closing doors.
“Harry – what -”
“I’m sorry!” Harry said, breathlessly. “It
was my roommate. He was…with somebody.” Harry kissed James
and pulled away, catching the doors just as they were about to close. “I’ll
see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Wait, Harry-”
Harry lunged forward and kissed him again, silencing his protest. “Call
me.” Harry pushed the ‘door close’ button and jumped
out of the way before they sensed him. “Goodnight,” he
said with finality, just as the doors closed on a bewildered James.
Turning around, Harry put on his “game” face; a cold steely
determination wrapping around his heart. He peeked around the corner
for a moment, and was relieved to see that the two men were not kissing
anymore. In fact, it looked as though the taller one (who was rather
tall, as he was looking down at Draco, and Draco was rather tall himself),
was admonishing Draco. Harry thought he may like this guy, and then
noticed that his hair was dark and his eyes were covered by glasses.
And he was good-looking. Harry frowned.
Coming out from his hiding place, Harry strode down the hall, approaching
the couple. “Malfoy, what the hell is going on?” he said,
taking satisfaction in Malfoy’s wounded look and the other man’s
surprise.
“I am not wanting to talk to you right now, Potter,” Malfoy
said with all the dignity his pout could afford, leaning back into
his…male friend, and burying his face in his chest.
The other man looked at Harry and smiled, holding out a hand to shake. “You
must be Harry. I’m Bradley, a friend of Draco’s.”
Bradley wasn’t blind. Far from it, in fact. And Draco was right.
He didn’t look a thing like Harry. In the better light, Bradley
could see the fire in Harry’s brilliant green eyes, and could
tell there was something special there. Draco and Harry could be brilliant
together, if only they’d let themselves see it.
Harry took Bradley’s hand, and shook it, with some trepidation. “Nice
to meet you.”
“Likewise. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“You have?”
“Braaadleeeeyyy, stop talking to Potter. He’s a horrible,
stupid Gryffindor.”
“A what?”
“Malfoy, shut up,” Harry snapped stepping past them and
pushing the door open as he stormed inside. “I have more than
enough reason to give you an earful right now.” He flipped on
the light and started taking off his jacket and kicking off his shoes.
Bradley followed, pulling Draco in with him. “I think you’re
gonna have to wait until morning to give Draco that earful, Harry,” he
said. “He’s practically passed out. Which bed?”
“What? Oh. That one, there.”
Bradley raised an eyebrow and started dragging Draco over. “It
figures you have the bed farthest from the door, you drunk, blond,
pain-in-the-arse.”
“Tell me about it,” Harry said to Bradley’s comment. “What
did he tell you about me?”
“Stop talking…” Draco murmured, his head lolling
to the side and Bradley hefted him onto the bed.
“I wish you were cognate enough to hear me say this: just because
you’re skinny, it does not make you light. You’ve
put on weight, Draco Malfoy.”
“Have not…”
Bradley rolled his eyes and turned away to talk to Harry. “I’d
just leave him like that, if I were you. It’d do him good to
wake up fully clothed with a hangover.”
Harry scowled at the passed out blond. “Believe me, when he
wakes, he will not be happy.”
Bradley smiled. “I like you, Harry. You’d do Draco some
good, I think.”
“Good? Like the painful kind?”
Bradley laughed and stepped forward, patting Harry on the shoulder. “Goodnight,
Harry. Sorry to leave you like this with him, but I’ve got another
passed out bunch still waiting in my car.”
“That’s okay. It was nice to meet you.”
“You as well.”
“Goodnight,” Harry said as Bradley showed himself out.
Turning back to the blond, he slid his wand out of his sock and whispered, “Oh
no, you are not going to get off so easily as getting to sleep
the alcohol off, you great, big asshole. Sobrietus.”
The comatose Draco jerked a little in his sleep, moaning. Harry, with
a ferocious snarl on his face pointed his wand straight at Malfoy’s
forehead and yelled, “Ennervate!”
Draco’s body jerked so forcefully his eyes snapped open and
he was suddenly sitting upright. He fell back with a whump,
groaning and moaning like he was dying. Which, he probably felt like
he was.
He raised his head, finally, and saw Harry standing over him. Groaning
again, he attempted to roll over and escape the darker man’s
penetrating gaze. “No…Potter…can’t… No
talking to you…”
“I know you are still nursing a hang-over, Malfoy, but you don’t
get to sleep it off like a normal Muggle. Now sit up. I’m going
to have a go at you like I properly should.”
“What…? Potter, leave me alone.”
“NO!” At this, Harry reached forward and grabbed Malfoy
by the collar and hoisted him up into a sitting position again. “DO
YOU HAVE ANY FUCKING IDEA WHAT I’VE BEEN THROUGH TONIGHT?”
Draco grimaced at the manhandling and scowled at the yelling, raising
his hands to his ears. “Yes, Potter, I do. I had to listen to
it, thankyouverymuch.”
“No, Malfoy… You – you left me! You hypocritical bastard!
You went off comm and left me with him!”
“So? It sounded like you were doing fine with out me,
Potter.”
“Fine? Fine? You call being left alone in a gay club
with some guy who wants to suck your dick fine?!” Harry
was nearly hysterical; he was breathing hard and his fists clenched
tightly in Draco’s jacket. He wanted to hit something, so he
shoved Malfoy away from him, stalking to the other side of the room,
and banging the wall hard with the side of his fist. Whirling around,
he spat, “You’re such a fucking arsehole, Malfoy.”
“Did I ever say I wasn’t?” Draco retorted, playing
the apathetic card while his head stopped spinning.
“Goddammit, Malfoy! Don’t you give a crap? You
went off comm, completely against your own fucking hissy fit
from last week, I might add, and left me! You left me!”
“So you’ve mentioned a good twenty times already.” While
Harry seethed, trying to come up with a response, Draco sat up, rubbing
his temples and glaring in the direction of Harry’s feet. “You
must have abandonment issues, Harry. That seems to be the focus of
your argument.”
Harry couldn’t help it; water was welling up in his eyes as
the pressure of it all crashed down on his psyche. “You don’t – you
don’t know. You’re gay.”
“SO?” Draco yelled, standing. “So what if
I’m gay, Harry?”
“You would want a guy to suck on you, and touch you and – and – and-”
Harry wasn’t crying, really. He just couldn’t breathe,
and water was just coming out of his eyes, that was all.
“Potter?”
Harry fell to his knees, that weakness finally settling over him.
He hiccoughed, wiping the tears from his face, trying to catch his
breath, but he couldn’t, because the pressure was crashing down
in another wave.
“Potter? Potter!” Draco, stumbling a little because of
his headache, slowly made his way over to Harry, kneeling in front
of him. “Potter, what did he do to you?”
Harry opened his mouth to reply, but a sob came out instead, and when
he saw Malfoy’s hand reach out to touch his shoulder like in
a cheesy romance movie, he jerked away. “NO! Don’t touch
me!”
“Potter, did he rape you?” Draco said seriously, a little
horrified as he thought about his comment earlier that night. He suddenly
felt quite a bit more sober at seeing Harry fall apart before his eyes.
Harry was so stunned at the question he didn’t know how to respond.
But then he was afraid Draco would take the silence as an affirmative,
and quickly said, quite forcefully, “No. I just…I
didn’t know what to do! You weren’t there! He was
touching me, but it felt…it felt…”
“Good?”
Harry pursed his lips. “I don’t like him that way, though.
I was nervous – I thought if I’d let him go pretty far,
that he’d show me the artefact…”
“Did he? Do you know where it is?”
Harry glared. “No. I don’t know where it is, so it was
all for fucking nothing!”
“But you enjoyed it, didn’t you?”
“I’m not gay, Malfoy.”
“But you enjoyed it-”
“No! I – Well, I did. But getting a good blow job from
a guy doesn’t make you gay!”
“Harry, you’re in denial-”
“No, Malfoy, I’m not. Just leave it.” Harry stood
up and went into the bathroom, Draco trailing slowly behind.
“You can’t even consider the possibility, can you, Potter?” he
said as he reached the doorway.
Harry was splashing cold water on his face. “What possibility?
That you’re a complete hypocritical arse? Yeah, I can consider
that possibility pretty clearly.”
“Oh shove it, Potter. You know that wasn’t what I meant.”
“I said drop it, Malfoy. I’m not gay. It… Physically,
yes, it felt good, but I don’t like him like that. It was…wrong,
somehow.”
Draco caught Harry’s eyes in the mirror. “Maybe you just
weren’t with the right person.”
Harry stared back for a moment before saying, “Maybe I was just
wasn’t with the right gender.” Then he pushed past
Malfoy, jostling him hard by the shoulder.
“Yeah… Have no regard for the drunk person, precariously
standing on the brink of being sick all over everything,” Draco
muttered, stepping into the bathroom to take a look at himself. “Oh
my god, I look like shit.” He splashed some water on his face
and through his hair, cooling himself off. His headache was still pounding
on the edge, but he didn’t feel nearly as bad as he had when
he woke up. In fact, he should still feel a lot more like shit…
“Hey, Potter?”
“What Malfoy?”
“Did you use a charm on me or something? Why am I not cursing
the gods for giving me a terrible hangover?”
“Just a Sobriety Charm. Not enough to take away all the symptoms,
but enough to clear your head a bit.”
“Sobriety Charm, huh?” Draco murmured. The charm wasn’t
usually used for sobering up drunk people, but it’d do in a pinch,
if you didn’t have a potion available. It was actually used to
keep people alert and awake, if they were studying for exams, working
late at night, being interrogated…
“I’m surprised you didn’t hit me,” the blond
called, still staring at his reflection.
Harry walked back into view, still dressed in his jeans, but without
his shirt. “I wanted to. But I wasn’t going to let you
off so easily. And besides, you’re drunk. You wouldn’t
have been able to defend yourself.”
“Spoken like a true Gryffindor.” Draco smirked. “Don’t
you ever kick anyone when they’re down, Potter?”
“No, Malfoy.”
Draco looked away. “You should have. I deserved it. I still
do.” Looking back up, he gazed at Harry a moment before turning
around and saying, “You’re right. I did leave you. And
I knew that you might panic, but at the time I didn’t care. I
just couldn’t listen anymore.”
Harry looked away himself, lost in thought. “I… A part
of me understands, Malfoy. I wouldn’t want to hear that kind
of thing either.” It was said with a light blush; Harry was perhaps
remembering the other day when he jerked off on comm. “But, tell
me why. Why would you risk the case like that, knowing what you know
about me? Knowing what was going on and what was sure to happen? Why
do that to me, Draco?”
Draco shrugged. “I…don’t know. I’d rather
not talk about it.” He started to leave the room, but Harry stopped
him with a hand on the chest. When he opened his mouth to speak, Draco
cut in, “I’m going to go to my flat and find a potion to
cut down on the headache. You probably want to shower.”
Harry was like a goldfish just for a moment, obviously trying to think
of something to say. Finally, he let out a breath and nodded. “Don’t
splinch yourself.”
“I’m not too far away. I’ll take a cab.”
“Do you live in Muggle London, Malfoy?”
“Of course not. My flat’s between two Muggle housing developments.
They don’t even know it’s there.” Draco winked and
stepped around Harry, going to the door and stepping out, leaving Harry
alone. Again.
***
Draco came back about twenty minutes later, looking much more bright-eyed
and less peaky than he had before.
Harry was freshly washed, feeling so much better after the very hot
water cleansed his skin and some of his worries. He now wore his pyjamas,
and had wanted to torch Malfoy’s clothes, but thought it better
to ask first.
“You look better,” Harry said once Draco was inside, shedding
his own clothing.
“So do you,” Draco replied.
“Wanted to burn your clothes, but I’m not sure you would
take kindly to that.”
Draco looked at the pile of clothes at the foot of Harry’s bed,
where the man lay, and said, “Go ahead. I don’t care.” After
Harry took them out to the balcony and did just that, coming back inside,
the blond added, “Do you like him?”
“What?”
“The Muggle. Do you like him?”
“Malfoy, I told you I didn’t.”
“Yeah, but I saw the way you were with him, Potter.”
“What do you mean?”
“He was all over you, and you let him.”
“I didn’t know what else to do!”
“Bullshit. He’s always all over you.”
“Malfoy, can’t you just leave it alone?”
Malfoy thought on this for a moment. “Fine.”
“So, do you normally snog all of your friends?” Harry
asked, needing to get in a comeback.
“What?” Draco asked, whirling around from his disrobing. “What
are you talking about?”
“You and your friend. Bradley, I believe his name was. You two
were kissing when I found you.”
Draco paled. “Oh no… Bradley…” He hung his
head and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I must have
been so drunk,” he muttered to himself.
“So, are you two, like, an item or something?”
“Me and Bradley? No,” he replied forcefully.
“Really? It didn’t look that way to me,” Harry teased.
“Oh, Potter, shut up about what you know nothing about. Bradley
and I are friends, that’s all. In fact, he’s my best friend.”
“Which is why you were snogging him.”
“I was drunk! I get…a little amorous when I’m drunk,
okay?”
“So he’s really your fuck-buddy then.”
“You don’t listen do you? No, he’s not. He’s
just…there when I need him, and he sorta…indulges me,
okay? I know it’s not right, but nothing’s ever come of
it and nothing ever will.”
“Why not? If you’ll snog him when you’re drunk,
doesn’t that mean you’d like to snog him when you’re
sober? You know…sub-conscious feelings?”
“No, Potter. Bradley’s my friend, and I want it to stay
that way. Not make it messy by sleeping with each other.” He
huffed, and shucked off his jeans. “Not that I need to explain
myself to you.”
Harry held up his hands, having enjoyed the game. “Sorry. Just
curious…”
“Yeah, well, curiosity killed the cat, you know. Or, in this
case, the Gryffindor. Your house mascot was a lion, you know.”
“Ha ha. I’m going to bed, okay?”
“Alright. I’m going to shower.”
Harry watched Draco until he was behind the bathroom door, then slipped
off his glasses, setting them on the nightstand and clicking off the
light.
***
“Malfoy, what’s the problem? Everything’s going
according to the plan. Sorta.” He turned to grab his shirt.
“Everything is going according to plan, and that is the
effing problem!”
Harry stood there, with wide eyes and his shirt dangling from his
hand. “I’m not reading you…” he said cautiously.
He had just announced that he had to meet James for dinner that night,
after the two wizards had spent a day trailing him and not talking
about the previous night.
“You’re falling for him.”
A burst of laughter escaped Harry’s mouth. “What? That’s
absurd.”
Draco’s mouth became a thin line and he clenched his fists at
his sides. “You’re a terrible liar, Potter. He’s
all over you, giving you all this attention, and you’re lapping
it up; you like it. Why else would you go over to his place
again after what happened last night?”
“Malfoy, are you jealous? Would you rather it be you?” Harry
said in a patronising tone.
“Fuck no. He doesn’t like my type anyway. We’ve
already established that. That’s why you’re doing it, remember?”
“Then what’s the problem? I have to find out if
he’s got the artefact. Why are you being so melodramatic?”
Draco grabbed onto Harry’s arms and yanked him close. “Because
I can’t stand it. This. His blatant fawning all over you, and
the way you look at him – it’s gross.”
“Malfoy…what the fuck are you talking about? I don’t
look at him in any way.” Harry glared and tried to pull away,
but Draco’s grip was like iron. “Well you’re the
gay one, Malfoy. I don’t even like boys. I’d’ve thought
you’d get a kick out of watching me squirm.”
“It was amusing at first, but then you actually started liking the
bastard.”
“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t like
him that way? Even you were the one to suggest that he raped me.” At
Draco’s grimace and lack of answer he added sarcastically, “What?
Are you afraid that little straight me is going to take all the gay
men away from you? I know how promiscuous you are… Remember
Bradley?”
Draco shook Harry, hard. “Fuck you, Potter. That isn’t
what this is about.”
“Then what is it, Malfoy?” Harry yelled. “Fuckin’ spit
it out!”
Draco battled with himself for a moment before blurting out, “I
want you.”
Harry’s mouth was parted and the expression on his face was
one of complete bewilderment. After a stunned and silent moment he
murmured quietly, “But I don’t like boys.”
“Stop saying that! I know you’re starting to like him,
Potter, or you wouldn’t have let him do those things to you.
Stop denying it. You’re a terrible liar.”
Harry seemed to get back his footing, if only slightly. “It’s
called acting, Malfoy. I’m pretending to like him. Otherwise
this wouldn’t work.”
“You can’t act, Potter. I’ve had to guide you nearly
the whole way.”
That statement made Harry extremely angry, considering what he had
gone through the night before. “I’ve been doing fine on
my own without you, Malfoy. And let go of me!”
“No! I’m tired of you pretending to not like men when
you’re obviously starting to! Stop lying to yourself!”
“Why? So you can get me into bed? No, Malfoy. I don’t
like guys, just deal with it!”
“I’ve seen the way you look at each other, how you look
at him when he kisses you… And I won’t have it anymore.
I want you. You’re mine.”
Desire shot straight through Harry’s belly to his cock, but
with it came a sense of shock and confusion. He didn’t know what
to make of his reactions to Draco’s words, but it scared him.
Was Malfoy right? Was Harry really attracted to men? Beyond the physical
sense? Harry didn’t know what was right, or how he was feeling.
And Malfoy was so close…
“Potter, say something!”
Harry blinked and looked up at the blond standing over him. There
seemed to be a bit of panic in Malfoy’s eyes, as if he was afraid
of Harry’s reaction.
“I…don’t know what… How did this happen? Why?
Why do you like me?”
“I don’t know,” Malfoy said through tight lips.
“I don’t believe you,” Harry protested, struggling
again to get out of Malfoy’s grip. “This is all some sick
joke, isn’t it? Fool Potter into thinking he just might be gay,
then turn the table and laugh in his face at his own stupidity. Well,
I’m not falling for it, Malfoy. Find someone else to play your
gay jokes on.”
“Goddammit, Potter, shut up! I’m not playing a
joke. I want you, dammit. There’s something here, can’t
you feel it?”
“No, I can’t.”
“You’re lying again.”
“Prove that I’m lying at all and I may start to
believe you!”
Suddenly, so Harry had no time to react, Draco pulled Harry roughly
against him and kissed him, hard. It was awkward, and Harry’s
nose was pressing strangely into Draco’s cheek, but the passion
behind it; the desire pouring out of Malfoy like a waterfall, crashed
into Harry with a force that made him tremor.
When Malfoy pulled away, he looked at Harry, obviously waiting for
a response.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t feel that,” Draco
said softly.
Harry could feel emotions welling up in his eyes. Oh god, he really
was transparent.
“I…” Harry let his shirt fall from his fingers
and clung to Malfoy’s jacket. “I don’t-”
Malfoy silenced him with another kiss, this time moving a hand up
Harry’s arm to behind his head, threading his long pale fingers
though the thick, dark hair.
Harry clung desperately to Draco’s jacket, crushing the fabric
between his fingers. He moaned just slightly in the back of his throat
and pressed his lips against Draco’s. He could feel tears welling
up and rolling down his cheeks, Draco’s nose catching a few and
smearing them as the kiss changed and grew deeper. Draco’s other
hand slipped down to wrap around the small of Harry’s back and
pull him closer.
Draco’s tongue slipped from his mouth to pass over Harry’s
lips, but just at that moment, Harry pulled away, pushing away from
him; breathing harshly.
“Potter?”
“I need to go.”
“What?”
Harry wiped the tears off his face. “He’s waiting for
me. I have to go.” Draco looked like he was about to say something
in protest, but Harry cut him off. “I’ll be back. I promise.
I just…need to go.”
Draco nodded, and watched as Harry picked up his shirt, put it on,
grabbed his jacket and shoved on his shoes. When he made it to the
door he turned around.
“Bye.”
“Goodbye,” said Draco, watching him go. Once he left,
Draco finished, “Harry.”
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