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The Persistence of Memory	By : stacygalore Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1069 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor do I benefit financially from the complete desecration of J.K. Rowling's characters.

Chapter List
- 1-The Persistence of Memory
- 2-Chapter 2
- 1
- 2
�The Persistence of Memory�

By Stacy Galore

A/N: �The Persistence of Memory� is a continuation of
�Persistence�. If you want to understand everything, please read �Persistence�
first. It�s a quick read. The title is taken from a 1931 Salvador
Dali painting.

THANKS: To my meticulous and all around awesome betas
Megan and Felena. To my lovely
muses @DracoTMalfoy and @NottTheodore (follow them on Twitter). To Jenniffer for her insight and for
converting me to a �Dracodore� shipper.
Finally, to Daniel for planting dirty little plot bunnies in my mind and
for late night consultations on AIM that soon degenerate to meaningless debates
such as, �During mutual masturbation, which hand does Theodore use to wank
himself, and which hand does he use to wank Draco?� (Yes, I swear, we�ve had
serious discussions on this matter.)

Chapter 1:

Draco Malfoy walked down the street of a somewhat shady
neighborhood in London carrying a take-away bag and a cardboard tray with two
large cups of coffee. He was
completely unaffected by the stares he was eliciting as he strut down the pavement
confidently. It wasn�t his manner
of dress that drew attention, though he wore an impeccably tailored designer
suit and stood out amongst the skinny-jean-clad hipsters and disheveled junkies
that shared the sidewalk with him.
People were staring because it was pouring rain and Draco had no need for
an umbrella. While everyone
scuttled from place to place, seeking their destinations quickly, Draco
casually strolled along, untouched by the cold, pelting rain. It rolled off his hair and his suit in
large, glistening beads, as if Draco were coated in wax. He even cleverly enchanted his
take-away with the same rain-repellent spell.

He arrived at his destination, a former industrial building
that had been converted to apartments and artists� studios. Draco scrunched up his nose with
repugnance and scoffed inwardly, �What a very dreadful fate for one of our
society�s most wealthy, pure-blooded men.
I�ve heard of slumming it, but this is a bit much.� He clandestinely slipped his wand out of his pocket
and cautiously waved it under cover of his jacket at the locked front door,
forgoing the buzzer. He entered,
muttering to himself, �And not even one enchantment to supplement the
useless Muggle security? Inconceivable!�

Rather than attempting to figure out the forbidding looking
freight elevator that served as the passenger lift for the residents, Draco
apparated to the top floor after ensuring no one was near to witness it. Surely, the door to the flat must have some security enchantments. Draco tapped his wand on the doorknob
anyway and whispered, �Alohomora.� To his astonishment, the locks clicked
and the door creaked noisily as it opened. As he walked in, he uttered, �Un-fucking-believable.� Then he called out, �Do you have some
sort of death wish, Nott? No
security charms at all in this
bloody neighborhood?�

Theodore Nott�s flat was starkly more bright than the dim
and depressing corridor. An entire
wall of windows that stretched from the cement floor to the lofty ceiling was
left un-enchanted and let the outside world in. Draco wondered why in Merlin�s name Theodore would want to
look at that drab world of concrete tower blocks, dingy brick storefronts, and
the ever-present grey gloom of London.
On the other walls hung paintings and shelves lined with an odd
assortment of items that seemingly had no aesthetic purpose. Racks holding an extensive collection
of what appeared to be phonograph records covered one of the shorter
walls. There were doorless
cabinets showcasing a baffling array of shiny muggle devices with buttons and
knobs - Draco wondered if Theodore actually knew how to use them, or if they
were just for show. Draco hadn�t noticed all this the first time he entered the
flat yesterday – he was much too fixated on undressing Theodore.

There was no sign of the flat�s inhabitant. Draco�s heart sank a fraction of a
millimeter. Perhaps he had been
presumptuous in thinking Theodore would actually wait around for him, or even
welcome him back to his flat. He
had left before Theodore awoke, itching for a caffeine fix. Not willing to navigate through
Theodore�s kitchen, he ventured out to Caf� Novus Ars for take-away, leaving a
note on the bathroom mirror.

Dear Theodore,

I�m miserably inept with kitchen spells, as I�m sure you
are too. I�ll be back with
breakfast and coffee. No chocolate
croissants this time.

Love,

Draco

PS: I expect you to have showered by the time I return
because I intend to fuck you senseless.

�Presumptuous, indeed,�
Draco thought.

Last night, in an unexpected twist of fate, Draco Malfoy
found himself in Theodore Nott�s bed, after their friendship dissolved ten
years prior. Of course, it was not
an accident. Draco sought him out,
hoping for some sort of closure after years of tension and unspoken
desire. Not knowing exactly how
that closure was to manifest itself, he made the conscious decision to accept
as much of or as little of Theodore as he could get, whether that was a smack
in the face, a handshake, or a shag.
Draco grinned to himself with smug amusement over the fact that he
managed to get the last option out of Theodore so soon. Though who could blame Nott? After reading his novel, Draco surmised
that Theodore had been in love with him for years, however subconsciously, and
was in deep denial.

Draco would not have even found the book if it weren�t for
his mother. Narcissa was an avid reader and no longer limited herself to
writers of the wizarding world in an attempt to be more cosmopolitan in an
increasingly open-minded, post-war society. She often combed through book reviews in muggle papers in
search of the next good read. She
recognized Theodore Nott�s name and asked Draco if it were the same person he
went to school with. Draco�s
curiosity was piqued. He
owl-ordered a copy of the book and skimmed the first few pages. After a couple of paragraphs, there was
no doubt in his mind that this was indeed the same Theodore Nott who irritated
the hell out of him throughout school without needing to utter a word. The main character, Kieran Tate, spoke
with the same maddeningly superior, intellectual tone. After a few chapters it became clear
that Kieran was a fictionalized version of Theodore. Kieran often spoke of somebody from his youth named Alexander
Moreau. Alex could not have been
modeled after anyone else but Draco.

If Theodore�s novel had really been an indication of what
sort of lover he was, it could be inferred that he wouldn�t make himself
available for a second go if his partner seemed too needy or too pushy. In penning that note and returning to
the flat uninvited, Draco was proving himself to be both, and that wouldn�t do
at all. He didn�t know what he was
thinking when he woke up this morning, believing he had some sort of relevance
in Theodore�s life now, rather than just a piece of old history. Perhaps he was still on a post-orgasmic
high.

It had been an incredible experience. No one had ever shagged him like that
before, as if he were being worshiped, Theodore�s hardened flesh an offering to
a deity. In fact, no one had ever
fucked him. Period. There was a huge discrepancy between
whom he took out and whom he took to bed.
It was a rarity for Draco to sleep with his dates. This was more a function of preference
rather than of opportunity. It was
necessary to be seen at high profile social events with a beautiful, well-bred
witch on his arm. And honestly,
what woman wouldn�t want to sleep with
Draco Malfoy? Though he was more
than amenable to sleep with men, he couldn�t bloody well be seen on a date with
one.

The way Theodore looked at him last night with those
captivating blue eyes, shining with such reverence and adoration, compelled
Draco to surrender. In the past,
Theodore had never looked upon Draco any way but condescendingly. He was always
too good, too clever, too bloody special to allow himself equal footing with
Draco. Even that time back at
school when their lips nearly met, Theodore�s eyes never lost their loftiness
while they shone with desire. Then
when Theodore was bold enough to kiss him, that sultry night on the Great Lawn
when they were fifteen, Draco didn�t dare look him in the eyes. He knew that if he did, it would open a
door into a world he wasn�t prepared to deal with.

So it came as a welcome surprise when he saw an expression
of complete relinquishment of control on Theodore�s noble face and felt his
body acquiesce beneath him. It
inspired Draco to grant Theodore the privilege of taking him.

Draco shivered pleasantly from the memory.

He set the paper tray of coffee and the box of sweet things
on the kitchen counter and let his gaze wander over the empty, silent flat.
Part of him wanted to just go home and pretend last night never happened. He
berated himself for being stupid enough to leave a bloody note and even more
stupid for wanting more than a one-night stand. Thank Merlin, Theodore wasn�t
there to make this an even more embarrassing situation than it already was.

Or was he?

�Draco?� came a muffled voice from the bathroom.

�Yes?� he replied, still unsure if he was welcome or not.

�I�m in the bath,� Theodore called out.

Then there was silence. Was that an indication that Draco should go see him there?
Or just a simple statement with no implied invitation. God, Theodore was an awful host. Draco didn�t know what he was expected
to do. He still wasn�t even sure
if Theodore wanted him there. He
started opening up cabinets looking for mugs, reluctant to drink his drug of
choice out of a paper cup. There
were very few essentials in the cabinets – some wine goblets, a few
plates, water glasses, and a couple of bowls. There was a crystal ashtray. Draco turned it over and read the maker etched into the
bottom. Lalique. He quirked an eyebrow. There was also an alarming number of
liquor bottles. Very good bottles
of liquor. Draco�s quirked eyebrow
arched higher.

He scoffed aloud, sarcastically, �Drink much, Theodore?�

�What? I can�t
hear you properly. Come here,�
said Theodore from inside the bathroom.

Draco pushed open the unlocked door and peeked his head
in. Theodore was having a bubble
bath, smoking a cigarette, and writing in a leather-bound journal on top of a
rack strewn across the tub. If it
were anybody else but Theodore, Draco would have found this odd.

�Judging from the contents of your kitchen cabinets, I�d
have to conclude that you take the term �starving artist� a bit too literally
and that you�re an alcoholic chain-smoker with expensive tastes to boot,� Draco
joked.

Theodore chuckled softly as he scribbled on the paper and
took a drag off his cigarette. �I
don�t know why people insist on giving me alcohol as gifts. I don�t drink much.�

�Duly noted.� Draco
nodded slowly, thinking about the expensive bottles of fire whisky he usually
sent his old Hogwarts mates for Christmas.

Then Theodore looked up from his journal and grinned
brightly, for no apparent reason other than to grace Draco with his rare
smile. Theodore�s entire face lit
up when he smiled. Draco could
probably count the times he�d seen it on one hand. So when Theodore directed this uncommon expression of
happiness towards Draco, it was quite disarming. He looked away and cleared his throat quietly,
subconsciously tucking a stray lock of blond hair behind his ear.

�I�m glad you came back,� Theodore said coyly.

Draco shrugged and leaned casually against the doorway with
his arms crossed. �You doubted I
would? I thought my note made my
intention to do so quite clear.�

Theodore bit the corner of his bottom lip and blushed, as if
what he was about to say was more forward of him than allowing Draco to see him
in the privacy of his bath. �Do
you, erm� plan of fulfilling all your intentions?�

Draco smirked.
He daresay Theodore�s coyness was cute. �I�m a man of my word.�

Theodore�s eyebrow quirked and his grin turned slightly wry.
�Are you, Malfoy? You talk a lot
of shit.�

Draco could sense the challenge in Theodore�s words and rose
to it in more ways than one. He
sauntered into the room, closed the door behind him, and slipped out of his
jacket. Theodore watched him
intently, his elbow resting on the porcelain, a cigarette dangling between his
fingers. Draco sat on the edge of
the tub, facing Theodore. He took
the cigarette out of Theodore�s hand and pressed it to his own lips, inhaling
casually as if it were an old habit.
He tilted his head back slightly as he blew out the smoke in a plume
above their heads. Then he pulled
a sour face as the acridness registered on his tongue. �How awful. I�ll have to break you of this nasty habit.� He coughed and threw the cigarette into
the sink. Before Theodore could
protest, Draco hooked a finger under his chin. �There are better ways to employ
your lips,� he said softly as he began to close the distance between their
faces.

�Such as?� asked Theodore, a teasing grin playing on his
lips.

Draco answered with a kiss. The meeting of their lips was still new and thrilling. Theodore�s mouth was soft – he�d
tease him for kissing like a girl if he didn�t find it so appealing. When Theodore kissed Draco, it was like
he was eating something particularly delightful, savoring every gentle bite
with quiet moans – it was quite lovely. The delicious sensation of
Theodore�s tongue gliding over his lips coaxed them to part. Draco could taste the lingering menthol
smoke on him, both pleasantly minty and simultaneously gritty, much like
Theodore himself – an airy aristocrat and a tortured artist. He quite liked this about
Theodore. He could have the
novelty of fucking the dirty street urchin while concurrently having the
familiar comfort of bedding the pure-blood prince. This thought danced in Draco�s mind as they kissed,
contributing to the exponential growth occurring between his legs.

Theodore must have sensed the desire behind Draco�s kiss for
he mumbled an invitation against his lips. �Come into the bath.�
He lounged back and gazed at Draco with a hungry yearning in his
eyes.

Draco rose and crossed his arms, glancing away and feigning
an indifferent shrug, hardly trying to hide his playful grin. �I already had a bath this
morning.� It wasn�t as much fun if
he gave in easily.

�The point isn�t to get clean, Draco.� Theodore bit the corner of his bottom
lip again in the coy way that Draco was quickly finding terribly endearing.

�Right.� Draco
smirked as he made short work of the buttons on his shirt. �The point is to get dirty.� He cocked his head to the side and
smiled keenly. �Isn�t it,
Theodore?�

Theodore answered affirmatively with his own smirk. �Very dirty.� Draco slipped out of his shirt, then the tee-shirt
beneath. As he did so, Theodore
did little to disguise his slow appraisal of Draco�s body. Draco daresay he caught Theodore
shudder with want.

�Filthy, if you let me have my way,� said Draco with a
mischievous glint in his silver eyes.

Theodore blushed, a small smile creasing his mouth. It was rather empowering that Draco could
still make Theodore nervous, even after spending the night together.

Draco sat on the closed lid of the toilet as he removed his
shoes, still feeling Theodore�s eyes on him as he fiddled with the laces. He accioed his wand from his jacket
hanging on the towel rack, pointed it at the bathtub, and inadvertently at
Theodore. Theodore instinctively
flinched, but just as soon relaxed, watching Draco siphon off the bubbles.

�You�ve been undressing me with your eyes this whole time,
Nott.� drawled Draco. �It�s only
fair that I get an eye-full of what you�re hiding beneath those bubbles.�

�Nothing you haven�t seen before, Malfoy,� Theodore said
with a shrug.

This triggered a stark, distant memory in Draco�s mind.

It was the summer after their fourth year at Hogwarts. A lot of things happened that summer,
leading to the rift in his friendship with Theodore. It was not unusual for them to see each other in various
states of undress, being that they shared living quarters at school. Outside of school, it wasn�t unheard of
either.

Early in the summer, the weather was already
sweltering. One particularly humid
day, he and Theodore were so hot that they lay on the cool marble floor of the
foyer playing exploding snap. His
mother�s nerves had become as frayed as the ends of her hair and ordered them
out of the house to go swim in their private lake. For no other reason than to be an arsehole, Draco did not
offer to lend Theodore swim trunks.
But what he didn�t bargain for was Theodore�s desperation to cool off -
He threw off his clothes after the arduous walk in the stifling heat to the far
southern end of the estate and jumped off the boat dock in his underpants.

After several playful attempts at drowning one another, they
grew bored and lay on the banks beneath a willow tree to dry. Draco caught a glimpse of Theodore
– water beading and rolling down his lightly bronzed skin, his white
boxers clinging wetly to the subtle curves and angles of his body. Draco had always resented how Theodore
could color in the sun without burning and freckling like he did. But this time, as he studied the other
boy, he wasn�t envious. He felt a
surge in his lap. It was
startling, to say the least.
Something inside him ached to feel Theodore�s glistening, golden skin
flush against his. He had to jump
back into the water to tame his errant erection.

Too lost in reminiscence, Draco hadn�t realized he was
staring until he heard Theodore�s haughty snicker. �Come now, Draco, I�m not that much of a sight. You needn�t
gawk.�

He quickly snapped out of the memory and into the moment,
playfully splashing Theodore in the face.
�Got that right.� He
quickly pulled off his trousers, speaking in a sensual drawl, �I�m fucking you
for your money, not for your looks.�

Theodore chuckled, his smile lighting up his face again,
compelling Draco to kiss him. The
corner of his lips turned upwards in an unavoidable grin as their lips met
briefly.

Draco slipped into the bath behind Theodore. The warmth of his body and the water
soothed away the remnants of his apprehensions. Theodore seemed to melt into him – he sunk low into
the bath between Draco�s legs and rested his head on Draco�s chest.

�Mmm perfect,� Theodore mumbled contentedly.

If there was any doubt left in Draco�s mind whether or not
Theodore wanted him there, it had now dissolved into the water.

�Aren�t I?� Draco replied smugly, half-jokingly, as he idly
traced a pattern with his finger around Theodore�s shoulder. In truth, this did feel like
perfection, like they�d always been together. It felt as if there had not been ten years of animosity,
spite, and repressed desire leading up to this moment.

�Draco, last night,� Theodore began tentatively, as if he
were about to say something bad.
And doubt started to creep up again like an insect that just wouldn�t
die.

�What of it? It
was brilliant,� said Draco, almost defensively.

�Yeah it was, but�� The hesitation in Theodore�s voice was
worrisome.

Draco should have anticipated this. There was always a catch, written in
fine print at the bottom of an interlude that was too good to be prudent. He steeled his emotions for the
inevitable escape clause, imagining the words Theodore would use before he
spoke them. But it has to end here. This is never going to work. Not
that Draco was used to rejection – quite the contrary. Considering whom he shared last night
with though, rejection would be logical.
It would be Theodore�s sweet revenge upon Draco for brutally declining
him that night long ago.

Theodore continued, �But I promised myself last night that,
if you were still here in the morning, I�d tell you something.�

Oh Merlin. This
couldn�t possibly be good. Nothing
good ever started with I have to tell you something or any variation of such phrase. �I�m here, so talk,� said Draco,
impatience coloring his voice.

Theodore took a deep, cleansing breath before speaking. And in the agonizing few seconds that
transpired during that long breath, Draco thought of all the hurtful things
Theodore could possibly say to him.

�I�m in love with you, Draco.�

His instinct was to snort at himself for thinking the worst,
though it would be interpreted entirely the wrong way. Instead, he casually replied, �I know,�
with a crooked smile.

Other than mind-blowing sex, what could possibly follow a
declaration of love that was ten-years in the making? Draco followed through on his intentions and fucked Theodore
senseless, making use of every surface en route from the bathroom to the
bed. Never once, did Draco return
Theodore�s sentiment, even though he felt it burning in his chest with
increasing intensity every time he drove himself into Theodore�s pliant
body. He even commanded Theodore
to say it again in the heat of passion as he pinned his wrists to the kitchen
table. �Tell me again. Tell me you love me.�

Theodore gazed up at him, face flushed with ecstasy, moaning
the words, �I love you, Draco.� Of
course, being fucked spectacularly could turn a noncommittal I�m in love
with you to a full on I love you. It
could hardly be taken as fact, when spoken under the influence of sex. People could be coerced to say all
manner of things they didn�t mean when blinded by lust. As Draco was very adept at �blinding�
people, he�d heard it all and learned to take it with a grain of salt. Yet
Draco couldn�t help but smirk upon hearing the words and revel in the power of
withholding his own amorous return.

(To Be Continued...)
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