Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

A Vicious Tangle (Complete)	By : Tommy-Lane Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 13085 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any charactors from the books and I am not making any money off of this.

Chapter List
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Blinking green and bouncing red.

Like Christmas had thrown up all around him, that or...

"Get the fuck off me Potter." Draco croaked, his throat sore and scratchy for some reason he couldn't fathom, his vision slowly coming into sharper focus.

"I'm not on you, lie still Malfoy!" Potter snapped and Draco blinked at Weasley as he and his flaming hair stood up and backed away from them - shaking his head and mumbling something to himself.

He reached a hand that was shaking with the feeling that his bones were chattering against each other inside him out and swatted at Potter's fingers that were running along his forehead. The darker man's face contorted in concentration and there was a long deep gash running along his cheek - like a thick stripe of red paint. "You're over me, same thing you twit." He grumbled, taking inventory of his body, of his legs that felt heavy but there laid out straight before him, of his back pressed into a cold stone floor of...a hallway. The hallway just outside his office to be exact.

Why exactly was he lying on the floor in his hallway with Potter on all fours directly above him?

He tried to sit up and was greeted with a growl from Potter and a sudden but fierce headache.

"If you don't stop moving I will sit on you, you're injured you idiot." Potter scolded him, drawing his knees in closer to Draco's sides and balancing himself on them as he took the blondes face between his hands. "Now shut up, I have to concentrate."

Draco scowled and pressed his lips together in a firm line as Potter's screwed his eyes shut and started mumbling, a wash of magic driving into him like a rampant elephant. It bloody hurt and Potter's fingers were digging into his temple like little daggers but then the pain was flowing away, falling like a crumbling wall from around his head and suddenly Draco gasped - realizing belatedly that he hadn't been able to think or draw a proper breath until that very moment that Potter stopped mumbling and popped his eyes back open with a question ready on his lips and a look of concern in his eyes.

Which was odd...Potter wasn't supposed to look at him like that. Must have been his hero complex replacing his compulsive tendencies towards him.

Then he remembered.

"Potter you imbecile!" He shrieked, shattering the kindness in Potter's eyes in an instant as he reeled back until he was sitting on Draco's thighs and crossed his arms defiantly over his chest.

"Oh nice Malfoy, you're welcome by the way." He grumbled.

"For what!" Draco demanded. "Merlin, tell me Potter that you didn't, please tell me that you didn't just bollocks everything up!" He pushed himself up onto his hands and tried to glance around the wild haired man that was still sitting on him to get a look at his office but all he could make out was his door - firmly shut with the insides shrouded in darkness.

"What?" Potter's look of indignant anger faltered as he glanced behind himself quickly. "I didn't - what? That thing almost killed you!"

Draco nodded and waved that little detail away with a flick of his hand. "Almost, Potter." He pointed out.

"Yeah because I stopped it. God Malfoy-" Potter glared. "Can you believe this?" He turned to Weasley who was leaning rather nonchalantly against the wall like his partner and their analyst weren't screaming at each other on the floor at his feet. Then again it wasn't like it was the first time something like this had happened...

Weasley shrugged, looking between them with that damn little smile of his. "Dunno Harry, you did kind of destroy his office."

"You destroyed my office!" Draco roared, shoving at Potter's shoulder until he tipped sideways and Draco could scramble up off the floor, the hall swaying dizzily as he stumbled, forcing him to press his hands and forehead into the wall as he waited for everything to slow and for his stomach to stop threatening to empty itself.

"Stop moving!" Potter snapped loudly from behind him.

"Stop shouting!" Draco countered, squeezing his eyes shut as he pressed his head firmly into the wall. Merlin what exactly had Potter saved him from? No matter how hard he tried it was still all fuzzy. He could remember the tentacles, the screaming, the ache, the need to push his head into the water...then an explosion? Damn Potter, why did he always have to blow everything up with his insane magic that sparked wild when he went into savior mode? If he had harmed the disk...

"Oh god." He groaned, banging his fist against the wall as the closest thing he had to a breakthrough in the case had most likely just slipped through his fingers. "Potter come here."

"Why, are you okay?" Potter sounded concerned but skeptical, his presence at Draco's back in a flash with his hand on his side like he was worried he was going to fall over and he needed to be prepared to catch him. "Do you need to go to the hospital?"

"No you prat I want to hit you." Draco grumbled. "Just move this way an inch or so." Draco twitched his fingers against the wall, shifting till his side was leaning against the hard surface, grateful when the ground stayed where it was and his stomach didn't lurch.

"So you can hit me? I don't think so."

"Don't be a git." Draco sneered, pushing the hair away from his face and straightening once more to his full height.

"How does not letting you sock me make me a git?"

"Because this is all your fault remember."

Potter huffed, crossing his arms over his tee shirt clad chest once more. "Malfoy-"

"Potter-" Draco mimicked his tone, the tightly bound word slipping past their lips at nearly the same moment. He knew it by heart anyway, knew the stalemate they were in very intimately. It seemed to happen quite frequently with them, sometimes over silly things, sometimes over tremendously important things but it always, always ended like this.

They could glare at each other for hours. Potter's green eyes would darken dangerously, Draco's own gray ones would ice over like pools of winter frost and then...

"Okay enough." Weasley sighed, pushing off the wall himself and turning his back to Draco's office. "Just tell him Harry."

"Tell me what?" Draco asked, his entire body tensing in an instant.

Potter flushed and looked at his feet as he shuffled them against the ground, kicking at imaginary specks of dirt. "Er, yeah...well Malfoy the thing is..."

"Oh my god, you did blow it up didn't you?" Leave it to Potter to set off an explosion that actually destroyed a previously invincible dark artifact.

"Umm, yeah." Potter confessed, finally lifting his guilty but determined looking eyes to meet Draco's. "But I didn't have much of a choice and I didn't...I mean...I didn't...not on purpose."

"How do you accidentally blow something like that up?!" Draco demanded, not really expecting an answer because well, Potter never had an answer to why things like that happened. It was like the time they had been out in a field when the wizard Potter had been hunting decided to spring his trap, ensnaring Draco in its web - only to find himself free from it moments later and standing in a crater instead...how Potter had managed that without blasting Draco to bits of flesh and bone still eluded him. Potter had looked wild then, his finger nails digging into Draco's arm and refusing to let go until the Healers had pronounced him untouched. Except for the marks Potter's grip left anyway, those bruises had lingered for weeks.

"I don't know." Potter shrugged. "I got...carried away I guess."

"That means he was scared out of his bloody mind." Weasley piped in, stepping up beside Draco with a lopsided grin that had Potter immediately frowning at him.

"Ron!" He glared.

"Well it's true. You get all uncontrollable when you're worried. You must have gotten him fucking terrified Malfoy, I heard it all the way in our office. You looked like a rag doll when he carried you out mind you." Weasley informed them.

Draco flushed and avoided Potter's gaze just as admittedly as Potter was avoiding his, refusing to think how that must have looked, him unconscious in Potter's arms before he was laid on the floor - which explained why Potter was hovering over him like a damn cat. He couldn't be sure but the whole thing just sat with him wrong, making something hot prick at the base of his neck and run up his cheeks and down his spine at the same time.

"And you can't go back in your office until the Unspeakable's have had a chance to go over it." Weasley continued, drawing Draco's attention with a quick snap.

Damn Unspeakable's, he hated having to work with them. They creeped him out in their starched black robes and their 'no, I'm not at liberty to discuss that with you sir, just hand it over and we'll be on our way'. Not to mention they took forever to do anything. He'd be office less for ages...

"You can share ours though until their done," Weasley said, slapping Draco on the back like that made everything okay. Like his office wasn't most likely leaking Dark Magic everywhere. Like the disk hadn't been destroyed. Like Potter had never gone unhinged by the smallest hint of Draco being hurt.

He glanced up and caught Potter's gaze, his eyes the deep forest green they got whenever he was fighting something inside himself. They glistened at him and with a growl and for no other reason than to deal out some retribution of his own he reached forward and snatched Potter's glasses from his nose. Jamming them into his pocket before turning on his heels and marching down the hall.

His hand stinging where the frames dug into his palm.

****

The alcohol burned as it slipped down his throat, a pleasant heat that was steadily taking the edge off his aggravated nerves that were positively itching in their intensity.

Merlin he hated feeling this way. It made him think of dark hallways and vanishing cabinets that just wouldn't fix and fire burning red and licking at his ankles. He couldn't even properly pinpoint what was making him so distraught, so on edge. It was a massive jumble, a ball that had started rolling a few days ago and snowballing to the disk being destroyed along with his office (his lovely, pristine, perfectly organized office). Now it was all crashing into him, knocking him off his feet and stealing the air from his lungs (not to mention that the Unspeakable’s were shifting through his things, ALL his things).

He couldn't stand that he had been set back in the case, that the lead was dead. He felt like he was standing on the brink of a gigantic failure that he’d be forever grasping at it, the answer just out of reach as people kept dying and that look in Potter's eye got more pronounced until the Auror cracked completely. He didn't want to see the day when the man finally succumbed to his hero complex and crumbled from the weight.
The disk was going to plague him until he solved it and now...well now he didn't even have it anymore. What kind of bloody luck was that?

Oh that's right, he didn't have any. Lady luck was a bitch.

"You're brooding again." Pansy sighed dramatically, swirling her martin in the wide tilting glass. "Rather a mood killer."

Draco lifted his eyes indifferently to her before throwing back the rest of his gin in one go. "And what mood would that be?"

Pansy shifted in the vinyl covered booth, her bare legs squeaking against the black seat, her gaze darting around the crowed club. "Brash. And muggle." She drawled out in disgust. "Remind me why we come here?"

Leaning back in the booth, Draco tipped his empty glass at the waitress hovering nearby with a tray of drinks balanced on her palm and shrugged. "Go home then."

Pansy blew out an air of bored dismissal. "To my lump of a husband? I think not." She crossed her arms under her ample, scantily clad bosom, her pink painted lips pouting as they tended to do when they spoke of Lenard - her elderly husband who was filthy rich and so near death that he had absolutely no clue what to do with the wife he had rushed into marrying. "Besides what kind of friend would I be if I up and left you in such a state?"

"The usual kind." Draco retorted.

"Still, when one's invited-"

"I didn't invite you." He corrected, gazing lazily back at her withering look she shot him. "You popped through my Floo just as I was leaving and latched yourself onto my arm like you typically do."

"Regardless," she said pointedly, "you’re in your mood and I knew you needed me. I sensed it."

"Sure Pans." He muttered, letting his gaze drift over the dim dance floor like it had been doing for the last hour or so, like it was trying to pick out something that wasn't there. It was crowded, the music pulsing a beat that the mass of bodies seemed glued to, moving and bending and withering to its time. It was full of indecent grinding and wandering hands and lips that were locked in kisses that most assuredly shouldn't have been happening in public. He didn't know why he kept looking, why he kept coming to this particular club after a particularity long and stressful day of work. Why he sought this place out when Potter simply wouldn't get out of his damn head.

He just...needed it.

"He's not out there." She said in clear amusement, sipping her drink and giving Draco her I know what you’re thinking look.

He shifted in his seat and barely noticed the newly filled glass that he was lifting to his lips moments after the waitress set it down on the wooden table top. "Who's not?" He asked, licking the gin from his lips and pushing a hand through his hair. The locks felt thicker than normal, not nearly as soft and silky as he always maintained it. Must have been all the running from the blasted children and then...well, almost getting blown up. He probably should have done something about his rumpled appearance before coming out.

But he had been feeling too high strung when he had finally left work, the idea of getting good and drunk the only thing penetrating his brain.

"Potter." She stated, smirking a bit too knowingly for Draco's liking.

His throat tightened, his jaw tensed, and his eyes slid down to narrowed slits. "Pardon?" He demanded more than asked, something that felt like his heart trying to break free from its cage thumping, thumping, thumping against his chest in a rhythm that made his blood start it's humming back up, cracking his nerves once more. He was here to forget work, Pansy ought to have known that by now.

"You know Harry Potter, celebrated Auror, likes to drag you around the country for some reason."

"It's my job." Draco ground out, his hand clenching around his glass. He really didn't need this now, didn't need to talk or even think about Potter, not while he was trying to decompress from his terrible day.

Pansy shook her head, blinking with an almost sad well aren't you clueless air. "No dear, your job is to poke about with dark artifacts and send him the reports."

"And you'd know this with all your experience being a rich man's kept women would you?" Draco lifted an eyebrow, frowning when she simply smiled back at him.

"Yes I do live a glamorous life don't I?" She winked, took a drink, and purposely set the glass back down - Draco's stomach constricting at the little action. Damn it, she was in her let's fix Draco's life mood, he knew he should have felt her on his stoop in her little black dress. "But we're not talking about me."

"And what exactly are we talking about then?" He shouldn't have asked, he knew that the moment the words were out of his mouth. He should have just gotten up, slipped onto the dance floor and proceeded to lose himself in the night like he had been planning on before she ruined his finely laid plans.

"You." She flipped her dark hair off her neck and let her heavy gaze lay on him. "Or more precisely you waiting for Harry Potter to walk through that door."

Draco sucked in a breath through his nose and looked back towards the dance floor, his eyes seeking out the couple with their hands on each other’s hips and his lips on his partners neck, the smaller of the two men with his head thrown back and his mouth hanging open. One was dark skinned, blending into the night, the other almost as pale as himself. They were rather intoxicating to look at. They looked enraptured, unaware of the press around them or Draco's gaze among who knew how many others on them. When he flicked his eye's back to Pansy he knew he looked blank, smooth like wax before any heat could mar it.

"Potter doesn't come here and nor do I want him to." He pushed his hair away again and toyed with his glass. "The prat would rather kill the night don't you think?"

Pansy pursed her lips, staring him down with an intensity that made him want to shift uncomfortably in his seat. "Oh? And so the man that comes in here looking exactly like him is just his twin then? His poor muggle doppelganger. Some sad sod named Barry Lotter perchance?"

He rolled his eyes. "I'm sure I don't know who or what you're talking about."

"Let me remind you then." She leaned forward, her finger drawing through the condensation rings on the table. "He comes in late, downs two shots at the bar, then one way or another ends up -"

"Pansy." There was a heat curling up his spine, a twisting in his stomach, her lowly pointed words painting pictures and sensation inside him that was making his breath draw more deeply in his chest. He didn't know how she knew these things, not when she had only been with him once...when he...it didn't matter anyway. She had it wrong. Very, very wrong. "You're mistaken."

"So you're saying the black haired, green eyed, atrociously dressed man at the bar right now is definitely not Harry Potter then?" She lifted a perfectly shaped eyebrow and stared.

Draco very purposely didn't look, didn't let his eyes shift the fraction they needed to, to see the long bar and who might or might not be leaning against it. He fought against the near undeniable urge and won, his hand too tight on his glass and his back as straight as a strip of lumber. "I don't know what you’re playing at but stop." He seethed, wondering how this always seemed to happen with them, how she always managed to bring the topic around to his insufferable co-worker.

"It's not me who’s playing sweetie." She retorted with a mild mannered shrug. "But I suppose we're each entitled to our secrets."

"Mhmm why don't I believe that?" He stuck the lime wedge from his glass in between his lips, sucking the gin soaked tartness from its fibers with a thick swallow, his gaze betraying him as they darted towards the bar - landing on a man with wild inky hair combed in disastrous curls over his unobstructed green eyes, a small smile on his full pink lips, a soft looking green shirt fitted over his torso and a pair of raggedy jeans that slipped a tad too low on his hips...

Draco's lungs constricted as the man turned, lifting a shot glass to his lips filled with a dark amber color and threw it back without a care, his gaze drifting over the room. He looked away quickly and found Pansy smirking at him.

"Barry's cute isn't he?" She said cheekily.

"Perhaps you should go ask him for a dance then." He bit back, annoyed when the glass he pressed to his lips only let out a small dribble of gin over his tongue. "Bugger." He grumbled, setting it a bit too harshly back down.

"Can't, married woman remember." She flashed him her atrociously huge diamond ring.

"Like that ever stops you."

"To true, but alas I don't believe I'm his type. He seems to like them blonde and fit and well...male."

"Know Barry quite well do you?" He drawled, resting his arm over the back of the booth in an attempt to calm down the storm that was starting to whip back up inside him. Damn it, there went any amount of relaxation he had managed to achieve, leave it to...Barry....to fuck it all up. Or maybe this time it was more Pansy's fault and her insinuations.

"One might say..." She glanced over her shoulder and tisked loudly. "Oh dear, that's shot number three, poor man must have had an awful day. Think he might have accidentally set something on fire?"

Draco refused to look again, to watch him lick his lips as he returned the glass to the counter, his hand unconsciously reaching into his pocket to finger the spectacles digging into his thigh. He had meant to leave them in Potter's office at the end of the day but for some completely unexplainable reason he found that he didn't want to. He just kept...touching them. Sliding his fingers over the perfectly round frames, skipping over the smooth lenses as he sat in Damaris's office and tried to document what had happened with the disk before it had gotten blown up.

He had gripped the frames so tightly he was surprised he didn't snap them as he had stared at his own hand writing, as he tried to think back before it all went black, trying to force himself to make any sort of connection, to remember anything of value that he could latch onto and continue his research.

All for not.

Then he had left, glasses still in his pocket, Potter probably walking around bumping into every possible thing in his state of blindness. He was rather surprised he hadn't tried to retrieve them once it became clear that Draco wasn't going to return them. Then again that could have been because of the hexes he had thrown at him the moment Potter had poked his head in Damaris's office.

"Draco-"

"I need to use the loo." He muttered before Pansy could finish whatever nonsense she was about to spit out, slipping from his seat and winding his way through the thick throng of bodies.

It felt all too familiar - his feet against the floor that was sticky from sloshed drinks, the sound of men laughing and women giggling, the door that was grimy from never being properly cleaned. The alcohol in his blood buzzed in his head and the water in the sink felt icy as he turned the faucet on and stuck his hands under the flow. He listened to the only other occupant grunt, pull up his trousers, and leave without washing. The door opened and closed and then opened and closed again.

He stopped then.

His hands hovering near the water, dripping their own drops down, his fingers much too cold. He wondered how he always ended up here, how he knew what he would see when he lifted his eyes to the mirror before him. His heart thumped, his throat felt sticky and thick. He wasn't nearly drunk enough for this yet...
The first time, so many months ago now, he hadn't even known...not until it was too late, not until the man who had been withering in his arms, rubbing his arse into his crotch, finally turned fully.

Not until he saw the eyes that went along with the wild hair that had been tickling his neck and chin.

He should have known, perhaps a part of him did, and yet it was a shock when those eyes blinked up at him, when those pink lips dropped in drunken recognition. That's when he should have stopped it. That's when he should have pulled back and ran. That's when he should have done anything but groan like he did when the man in his arms grabbed his arse, placed his face in the crook of his neck, and ground his hips into his.

A boot squeaked on the floor and with a caught breath Draco slowly let his graze drift up - past his own reflection and over to the one standing just inside the door, those green eyes darkened and burning into him.

They didn't talk. They never did. And then Monday morning would come and it would be as if...

Barry fucking Lotter indeed.

He turned the tap and let his wet hands grip the edge of the sink as he turned and leaned back against it. He knew his heart was pounding in his chest, just like it always did, knew the heat in his body wasn't solely or even mostly from the drinks he had consumed. Draco came to the club to drown out the stress of the job and so did he it seemed.

A funny twist that they found their release like this. Like strangers when they never would be.

The silence stretched and stretched, a hand jiggled the knob on the other side of the door for a moment before there was a loud curse and a stumbling body down the hall that they couldn't see. This moment, before either of them moved, was always the part that stuck in Draco's mind the longest, the part that refused to leave him even when he shed his skin from the night - when he stripped and washed away the remains of...

It lingered. The look in those eyes stuck in his mind until he strode into work and snapped his biting remarks and heard him yell back.

Draco watched. Watched those hands push away his dark hair, those lips part just slightly before he sucked in his bottom one between his teeth only to release it red and wet. He looked shy and hard, beckoning and fierce. And Draco listened. He listened to the thump of boots on the ground as he gripped the sink and the other moved closer, listened to someone's breathing that was starting to grow deeper.

Whether his own or the other man's, he didn't know. Maybe it was both of them.
The man stopped too close to him, smelling of whiskey and soap, his lips parted as if he was going to lean in and...he wouldn't. Neither of them ever did.
Then everything sped back up and Draco watched as the man dropped to his knees on the filthy floor, hands that were bigger and darker than his stretching up and running down his stomach that jumped under the touch before those fingers were on his belt. Swiftly and deftly undoing the clasp as he pressed an open mouthed kiss against Draco's crotch, the rest of the blood that had been refusing to flow lower rushing south in an instant. It should have been embarrassing how quickly he always got hard in these encounters, how fast his pulse would start racing, how much he just...needed. He heard the man hum lowly as his trousers were spread open and his hard cock drawn out and all embarrassment was forgotten in that one little sound that gave the other man away just as completely.

He shut his eyes and bit his lip, his knuckles whitening on the sink's ledge.

There was no foreplay, no precedence to stand on. It was always like this. Always right to the point. Always fast and needy and...a perfect kind of oblivion.

Draco struggled not to make any noise as that pink mouth opened and wrapped around him, his cock enveloped in the wet, hot heat filled with suction and long licks. When he felt those lips stretch close to his root, heard the man choke and swallow, he bit back a curse and focused his gaze on the ceiling, refusing to look down. He held himself taut, felt his body string tight as pleasure rippled through him, losing himself in the feel and sound of his cock sliding in and out, in and out - sloppy, indecent noises, heavy breathing and groans that weren't coming from him as he bit harshly into his tongue, making liquid need pool in his gut.
He rose and rose and rose - every little problem in his personal life, the case, the destroyed disk, his damaged office, the pressure from his supervisor…from Potter, sinking further and further below him until they were only worthless pinpricks among a sea of stars.

He heard the sound of jeans clumsily opening, heard the man moan long and low and hotly, the sound traveling along his sensitive flesh. He heard the unmistakable tell of a fist pumping frantically as he crested, feeling the first tendrils of falling. He pushed aside the warning, the yelling in the back of his mind not to look down, and let his heavy eyes drop to the messy black head bobbing quickly, his knees spread out wide on the dirty floor, one hand tight on Draco's hip, the other moving quickly between his legs.

The sight nearly sent him tumbling over the edge.

"Shit." He gasped, even though it was against the unspoken rules, his muscles tightening as he pushed a hand into the black curls and tugged - drawing that mouth further down his hard length.

The man hummed and scooted closer, rising up a little on his knees, opening his mouth widely, the suction going lax.

Draco growled and gripped the soft hair with both hands, snapping his hips forward and seeing black spots edge into his vision as he jammed himself forward and back, feeling that hot tongue trying it's best to swirl around his length as he fucked the willing mouth. He felt his body curl with fiery desire, felt his head go light and bit into his lip until he tasted the coppery tang of blood, then the man was gasping and moaning around his mouthful - his entire body jerking as he came into his own fist.

Draco's mouth fell open around a silent shout as those green eyes blinked up at him, so very dark and languid and filled with...

He came hard. His fingers digging into the man's scalp, those raven curls tangled around his pale hand, his grasp keeping the man pressed against his crotch - forcing him to swallow quickly as Draco's vision went black then white, dazzling spots dancing all around him. When he finally floated back down, his heart beating hard and his breath coming with even more difficulty, he opened his eyes to see the dark head resting against his hip, the man's entire body slumped in exertion.

He could feel a smile on his thigh.

With a shaky intake, he withdrew his hands, letting them slip from the soft hair and back to the cold hard sink.

Now was the time to step back, to keep his eyes averted. To pretend that it didn't happen. Now was the time to go back to the real world. But he was stuck where he was and when the man finally tucked himself back away and rose to his feet he didn't turn away like he always did. He just stood there, Draco's eyes trained on his booted feet, his stance broad like he was vigilantly prepared for a fight as Draco fixed his own trousers.

Draco listened to him draw in a deep breath and then he felt fingers slipping into his pocket, the unexpected touch making his head jerk up. His gray eyes landing on unobstructed green for all but a moment before he was pushing his glasses onto his nose, a small smile on his swollen, wet lips. Draco stared, unable to move or breathe because the man before him had just ruined everything.

The spectacles he had nicked earlier were back in place on Potter's face and the man was looking so well fucked and uncaring, blinking at him for a moment with a twitching smile before he turned and left - leaving Draco grasping the sink for dear life, all the blood having drained from his face.
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A Vicious Tangle (Complete)