Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Before You	By : VSBree Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 6294 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All rights are reserved to J.K. Rowling and company. I am not receiving compensation for this fiction.

Chapter List
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Chapter Three: Undeclared Rivalry
*
Harry laid in his bed considering how he felt about the night that he discovered something unbelievable about the heir to the Malfoy fortune.
Gay. Poof. Homosexual tendencies – or in this case, homosexual entireties.
“What?” Harry nearly lost his footing at the proclamation.
He barely rounded the kitchen with the food precariously held in his hands as he battled the brewing emotion in his chest. It had to be some sort of joke. Maybe as a result of all the poof talk over the past couple days involving Harry and Dakin, perhaps?
Yes. Malfoy must be joking.
“I see no need to repeat myself, Potter.”
Not a joke then.
Harry felt the slight tremble in his hands as he set the plates of food down. He wanted to appear nonchalant. Unaffected by the idea that Malfoy could harbor those tendencies. It just seemed unrealistic that Malfoy would come out and say it. Just like that. To Harry of all people.
Harry went through the motions of preparing the table so they could eat, but his brain was doing somersaults to comprehend the purely outlandish statement that Malfoy was gay. A poof. Batting for the same team.
Malfoy sat down at the table as if the conversation hadn’t veered in an entirely uncomfortable direction. He had also chosen not to elaborate. Or pry for that matter.
Maybe Malfoy felt they shared that in common and was content to share the information so openly. So bluntly that Harry nearly felt unhinged with it.
Harry took a seat, finding that his eyes could no longer stray from the other. He contemplated the blunt statement once more before asking: “How long?”
“All of my life, Potter.”
“Then Pansy…”
Malfoy’s lip twitched before raising into a small smirk. “A mere rumor. I had to keep up appearances, Potter. Unlike yourself, I have a good name to keep.” Malfoy began to eat without hesitation unlike the day prior, and it made Harry’s chest inflame just slightly.
“And now? Why tell me? Aren’t you afraid I would use the information against you considering our current arrangement?” Harry posed curiously.
“Should I be?”
Harry nibbled his bottom lip. “No.”
“Then, there you have it, Potter. Besides, I doubt there is anyone you are willing to ruin your current living arrangements just to proclaim that you know I am attracted to wizards. Seems hardly worth the effort for someone that has spent six years living as a muggle to shy away from the world he came from, do you not think?”
Harry hated to admit it – because this was Malfoy – but the blonde wizard had a point. Even if he was inclined to tell anyone, who would he tell of any importance to Malfoy? No one. Besides, Harry wasn’t the vengeful sort. He didn’t seek to humiliate others the way that Malfoy did.
Instead of agreeing, Harry simply focused on his food, and the rest of dinner was spent in silent pondering.
Currently, he was pondering it again. Over and over. Churning the information and images of Malfoy with…other wizards. There was another sharp pain to his chest. Harry rubbed it absently.
Harry had never pondered his sexuality. Mostly because after his break up from Ginny, he felt no one deserved a life connected to him as the savior of the world. It was one of the hardest things he had ever done, discard most of his relationships to live this life.
Still, Harry had never truly understood this subtle attraction to other wizards’ physique and masculinity. He had attributed his fascinations with simple jealousy that his own physique was so small.
Now that he thought about it, he had been slightly enamored with the blonde wizard since he had arrived. None of it had made sense to him since he was supposed to hate the prat. Instead, he felt this heat in his chest and fluttering in his stomach every time the other was near.
And that dream. Harry trembled at the memory. It was so vivid. It made him want to touch himself; and not just for completion, but to feel pleasure through the images.
His hand strayed, but he was able to restrain it. The very idea of masturbating with Malfoy in the other room was enough to harden him almost completely in his trousers. The fear of discovery was something he hadn’t worried about since Hogwarts, save the few morning woods he sported after a night with Dakin.
Harry bit his lower lip as he battled the urge to touch himself. If he kept quiet, he could easily do this without Malfoy knowing. He was throbbing so horribly now with the memories of what it felt like to have Malfoy rutting against him in his dream. Feeling him. Touching him. Pleasuring him.
Harry groaned softly, failing to keep his hand from it any longer. He touched tentatively at first, and then a bit harder. His hand worked under his trousers, pulling and pleasuring himself as he always did. The difference – the reason it felt exceptionally more pleasurable – was the images of Malfoy hovering over him, touching and tasting him. It was enough to send him right into orgasm after only minutes of touching.
He wasn’t able to stifle the gasp of ecstasy as he came in long, powerful waves. With his hips locked, he soiled both his trousers and top as he rode out his orgasm. When it finally finished, guilt pitted. Harry discarded his soiled clothes.
He had just wanked to images of Malfoy. What the bloody hell was wrong with him?!
Deciding he wouldn’t flirt with discovery by taking a shower, Harry cast a simple cleaning charm and promised to shower in the morning.
Utterly disgusted with himself, Harry attempted to close his mind off to anymore thoughts about a certain blonde wizard.
*
They headed into Sligo after a ring to Dakin to meet up with them. Harry had been rather awkward all morning after a quick, cold shower and equally cold breakfast.
Malfoy seemed his usual self, complaining about the weather and lack of heat throughout the night despite casting a few warming charms. Harry was barely listening though. His mind had already strayed a time or two despite his every effort to focus on the task at hand.
He drove the winding back streets towards Sligo, pausing only when a particularly frantic driver decided to take up most of the roadway. Malfoy seemed enamored with the buttons in the car, touching them and inspecting their functions.
“Stop touching those,” Harry said as he batted Malfoy’s hand away. “Have you never been in a car before?”
“No,” came Malfoy’s simple, curt answer.
“Really?” Harry inquired, taking his eyes off the road momentarily to send the other wizard a look of surprise.
Malfoy preened his nails. “I am a pureblood, Potter. We do not associate with muggles for any reason.”
Harry sighed softly before returning his gaze to the road. It had started to rain shortly before, and now he was losing much of his visibility. “I know it’s how you were raised, but you can be a right bastard most of the time.
“Muggles are resourceful despite having no magic to aide them. I know there is a general consensus that they are weak and incapable of protecting themselves, but they are actually rather capable and adept in the world around them.”
Malfoy hummed with indifference, but Harry could see the other wizard’s jaw working which he now recognized as Malfoy withholding his interest on purpose. Harry smiled.
They managed to arrive in Sligo safely despite the increasing storm and met with Dakin at pub in town. Malfoy looked on with disdain as they entered the pub and were greeted by many of the townspeople that Harry knew.
“Harry! Been a while since I’ve seen you at the pub,” the large man with a graying beard behind the counter called out. “Who’s this?” he asked, referring to Malfoy who stood rather out of place with his pale blonde hair and pristine appearance among men that merely threw on a shirt and coat to start drinking in the morning.
“This is Draco Malfoy,” Harry introduced with a smile. “He’s – er – a friend of mine from London.”
The large man, Patrick O’Flannigan, current owner of O’Flannigan pub, nodded smiling in his usual way to greet Malfoy. Since Malfoy wasn’t completely devoid of manners to muggles, he returned the greeting with the slightest of bows.
“Proper, isn’t he?” the old man laughed. “Well, have a seat, lad. I’ll get your usual. On the house since it’s been a while.” Patrick worked his magic, easily throwing the cocktail together with graceful movements before setting it in front of Harry. “What will your friend have?”
“A glass of merlot –“
“He’ll have a red wine. Whatever you’ve got, Pat,” Harry cut in, smiling as Malfoy sneered a little at his side. Bending towards the seething man, Harry whispered, “They don’t really carry the sort of wine you’re use to here.”
“I had presumed as much, Potter,” Malfoy replied distastefully.
Dakin finished his conversation with a few men, their loud voices carry a jolly tune as he headed over towards them. He was fitted into his usual pair of denims, but today chose to where a fitted shirt with his favorite Irish band on it with a black biker’s jacket adorned with silver buckles and chains.
You would never know that Dakin was nearly forty-two years old by the way he dressed and looked. He hardly looked thirty, and that was made clear by the younger women ogling him from the far corner of the room. Dakin seemed to draw female attention wherever they were.
“Hiya Harry,” Dakin greeted with a wide smile as he threw a heavy arm around Harry. “And top of the morning to you, Mister Draco,” Dakin added with a toothy-grin. Harry sighed deeply, knowing that was probably the best he was going to get from Dakin.
Malfoy, for the most part, ignored the other man. He was holding his wine glass expertly in his hand, acting as though he was in no way associated with them.
“I see you’ve started drinking early,” Harry started with a small glance of reprove. He waved as Thomas McClain waved him down cheerily. “You brought your cousin with you?”
“Thomas might know where to find this book you’re looking for,” Dakin stated with elevated pride. “Thomas says he knows a bloke who knows a bloke that might be related to the family with a book like it.” The older wizard puffed out his chest boastfully.
Well it was a start. “Then, I guess we need to talk to this bloke. Can Thomas ring him to get information?”
“Yeah, no problem,” Dakin responded with a tousle of Harry’s tresses before heading back over to Thomas.
Malfoy nursed his drink. “Shall we leave then?”
“Why?” Harry asked, genuinely surprised.
Malfoy sighed in exasperation. “There is nothing more for us to find especially with the weather.”
Harry nearly laughed at this. “Mal—er—Draco, the weather is always like this. If you think a little rain is going to stop me, then you have another thing coming.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Harry nearly groaned in frustration. “Look, we’ve hardly found anything out. This is a start, but I want to see if there is anything else I might be able to find.”
“Must we?” Malfoy complained.
Harry was momentarily stupid as he watched the subtle hue of blue mix with gray in the wizard’s eyes. He shook away his passing fascination and answered: “Yes, we just got here. Why are you already complaining? I thought you needed this book in a timely manner?”
Malfoy seemed to be contemplating his next response. “I simply wish to avoid any further company with the mountain troll.”
“Worried you might come to like him?” Harry teased.
Malfoy looked genuinely insulted by this. “Unlikely, Potter. I do not associate with trolls.”
“Or muggles.”
Malfoy returned with a sneer before sipping at his glass. Well, he was going to be no help at all. Harry decided to do what he could and broke into conversation with several of the elderly men lining the pub. Many of them had lived there all their lives, so they would know a thing or two about a book passed through the generations.
*
As evening neared, Harry had found out a bit more information about the book Malfoy sought. It was originally passed along the McDermott family, but in the last century, the book had made its way into the hands of the McEvoy family – or so most thought. The information was unfortunately not very well known. While many believed that the McEvoy family possessed it now, it was theorized that one of the members may have pawned off the book to pay gambling and drinking debts.
Harry led Malfoy back to the car after they had exhausted their search. The connection Thomas had turned out to be related to another title. “The Dead Man’s Boot” was originally written – its true creation was to conceal a very rare potion that Malfoy refused to discuss – in Norway and had traveled to the hands of an Irish family, The McDermotts. Thomas had found a book written originally in Ireland, passed through the generations of the family his friend of a friend was related to.
Altogether, the day had resulted in little information. Harry felt less than enthusiastic at the prospects of having Malfoy there longer, tossing his feelings about and confusing him.
Harry wanted to return to what he had before Malfoy came. Things were simpler when he thought he couldn’t be attracted to anyone. He had even come to accept that the only companionship he would have was that of friendship.
Harry had been comfortable with that reality. He could easily explain away any relationship furthering by saying his past would be too risky to allow it to continue. Now, he wasn’t so sure his excuse would be good enough to put a stopper to the feelings slowly welling up inside him.
Sure, Malfoy was an attractive wizard, but there were plenty of those. Why was it that his reaction to Malfoy was exceedingly more uncontrollable than others had been? Was it because he knew that Malfoy was gay and that there would be albeit a small possibility that the feelings could be returned?
Harry didn’t know. Didn’t want to know. He wanted to push down these feelings and focus on finding this book as quickly as he could.
*
They returned home relatively quickly. Harry immediately made dinner, as he was now growing accustomed to feeding Malfoy. He made a simple dish, offering it to Malfoy and immediately excusing himself to search through what he could find on the internet.
Since he was sure that very few wizards used the muggle internet, he had an advantage of possibly finding more information. He ignored the curious glances that Malfoy gave him as they were usually accompanied with any activity that was new to the other wizard. He searched over the next hour and only found minor details about the book. Seemed that the information was kept tightly sealed within the McEvoy family.
Harry breathed out in frustration and slammed the laptop closed.
“Discover anything?”
Harry shook his head and massaged his temple. “Not anything we hadn’t known already.” He tossed the other wizard an apologetic glance as his voice had come out much angrier than he intended. “I can see why you had trouble finding information. Looks like we’ll have to search out details the old-fashioned way.”
Malfoy seemed uneasy before he traveled the small distance to sit beside Harry on the sofa, startling him slightly with the movement.
Harry didn’t keep much furniture. Never had to. He didn’t often play host to any of his acquaintances in town, and Dakin sat, slept, and ate wherever so never concerned himself over extra seating.
Since the sofa was more of a loveseat style, it meant their bodies were mere inches from each other. Harry scooted closer to the arm of the couch on his side, hoping the subtle movement didn’t get taken the wrong way. His heart was starting to pound in his chest at the close proximity, and surely, he would start to blush at any moment.
“I am not going to attack you, Potter. I may be attracted to wizards, but you are hardly my type.”
A sharp pain hit his chest, splaying out and consuming the area with a heavy heat. It had hurt Harry – more than he cared to admit – that Malfoy had rejected him so blatantly.
He laughed it off. “You aren’t mine either, so stop sticking to me. Hopefully by now, I have made it clear to you that I am serious about finding the book for you. You need to trust me a little. I may be under duress here, but when I make a promise, I keep it.”
Malfoy seemed to ponder his words for a moment before nodding his understand. “Very well. It is evident that you intend to keep your word as I do mine. I have business that will take me to London for a few days, so I hope to test this trust I have put into you. Do not fail me, Potter. I am not a forgiving man.”
“What do you do anyway?” Harry found himself asking, hoping to ignore the heat in his chest from the rejection.
“I brew potions for the Ministry,” Malfoy responded nonchalantly.
Harry almost asked an inappropriate question about how he managed to with his father’s crimes but was able to keep it to himself. They had come to an accord of sorts, and he didn’t want to ruin it with inappropriate prying.
“Seems fitting, I guess. You were always good in Potions even though I still believe a bit of that was favoritism,” Harry taunted with a wry grin.
“Unlike you, Potter, I excel in many things. Most infallibly in potion-brewing,” Malfoy retorted arrogantly. Harry had mind to roll his eyes but refrained. Malfoy’s conceit knew no bounds it would seem.
“Uh-huh,” he finally said as he stood from the sofa, hoping to distance them a little. He was still slightly affronted by the previous statement and needed to clear his head. “When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow,” Malfoy responded curtly. “I assume you are not linked to the floo network here?”
“Unfortunately, no,” Harry replied sheepishly.
Being connected to the floo network was still too risky, even six years later. His correspondences were owls and mobile. Hermione, being now connected with Arthur Weasley, was able to procure a cellular phone to keep in touch with him. Ron had even taken a liking to speaking with Harry through it.
“Very well. I shall Apparate and send owl of my expected return,” Malfoy said in a business-like manner before excusing himself to the bathroom.
Harry had also noticed that Malfoy showered twice – sometimes thrice – daily. He wasn’t sure if that was connected with living in “poverty” or just a normal routine, but it was something he had notated while the other wizard had been there.
In a short time, he had grown less and less disgusted with Malfoy. Instead, he found he was rather intrigued by the other wizard. There seemed to be a lot hidden behind all those aristocratic airs, and Harry wanted to know more against his better judgment.
Maybe a few days away from each other would remind him of that. Remind him of how easily he could forget Malfoy and all these complicated feelings that came with the other wizard.
*
Malfoy had left without so much as a note when Harry awoke the next day. He hadn’t expected much anyway, he told himself as he hurriedly dressed for the day. The walk to work felt much quieter; although, he didn’t quite miss all the quips about poverty and muggle-living from Malfoy, it was nice to have a conversation in the early morning instead of being left to his own thoughts the entire way.
When he arrived at the little bookshop, Dakin was already waiting for him. The older wizard looked around in perplexity before fixing Harry with a stare. “Where’s prissy boy?” the older wizard asked before his eyes lit up. “Did he leave?”
“He will be back in a few days,” Harry responded as he set his things down on the counter.
Dakin’s moment of happiness was cut too short as it would seem from his dispirited reply. “Oh.” He recovered quickly, “Well, in that case, I cleaned—sort of—so we can watch those zombie movies at my flat tonight since your little prissy mummy is away.”
Harry chuckled. Maybe that was a good idea. “I guess so.”
“Your enthusiasm is blinding, Harry.”
Harry smiled wryly at his friend. “Oh Great Dakin, please allow me the honor of joining you tonight in a zombie movie marathon!”
“That’s more like it!” Dakin laughed heartily before kicking up his shoes in their usual manner and reading through his usual choice of novel – erotica.
Harry shook his head. The man had no shame.
*
Zombies still scared the bejesus out of Harry. He closed his eyes to a particularly horrific scene of one tearing apart its victim, catching sight of his companion’s eyes in which glittered happily as opposed to his.
“You look like a little kid with your eyes glittering happily like that,” Harry pointed out with a small smile.
Dakin offered him an unapologetic shrug. “I’m young at heart, Harry.”
“A little too young, some may say.”
“Right bastards. All of them,” Dakin stated with a smirk.
Harry leaned back into the couch, cradling his head against the couch. The thing was still soiled, and since Dakin managed to clean a bit of the floor, he decided that it would be the best place to sit. “Hey, Dakin.”
“Hm,” the other man responded absently as another attack of zombies filled the screen. The main characters were fighting them off desperately, losing one of their companions to the horde.
Harry swallowed around the lump forming in his throat. If he could ask anyone, it would be Dakin. “Have you ever thought about…you know, blokes?”
Dakin’s face drew down in a frown before he glanced over his shoulder at Harry. “Thought about blokes?”
“Yeah,” Harry said, swallowing around his hesitation. Just ask it. “Like you think about women.”
Realization dawned in the older wizard’s eyes, and his face grew serious. “Do you, Harry?”
“I don’t know. Maybe?” Harry couldn’t keep eye contact. He glanced down at his clammy hands, fiddling with his fingers nervously.
“Anyone in particular?” the other wizard asked unabashedly.
Harry bit his lower lip. He was slightly uncomfortable with the mere topic but this question was even more disconcerting to him. He knew that no matter what had transpired through the years, Dakin had never judged him. He could trust that Dakin’s friendship would never condemn him for his attraction towards men. Still, he was afraid. He was afraid of the possibility that Dakin would be ashamed of him.
He swallowed through his nervousness, toying with the idea of pretending to be drunk and asleep to keep from answering.
“Harry,” the other called, fingers gripping his chin and forcing him to face the serious eyes of his friend. “Do you have those sort of feelings for someone?”
“Maybe,” Harry whispered, hating how weak his voice sounded. “I’m not really sure.”
Dakin’s eyes darkened slightly. “It had better not be that prissy boy.”
Harry’s heart went cold. His stomach hardened, and the sudden shame of it all caused him to try to pull away. Dakin held fast.
“He’s not right for you, Harry,” Dakin stated bluntly. “He would use you like some sort of toy before discarding you as if you never mattered. You deserve better.”
“He’s not like that,” Harry heard himself argue.
“Oh? Then tell me the real reason you’re getting this book for him.”
Harry’s eyes widened slightly. “What?”
“The real reason, Harry. Tell me. I know you’ve been lying about your being friends with him. I’m not stupid despite the common belief I am. I am also not oblivious to how tense you are around him. How is he forcing you to help him?” Dakin demanded angrily.
Harry suddenly felt an urge to flee. He didn’t. He wanted to explain things. It wasn’t like that – at least not anymore. It was true that initially he had been blackmailed into helping, but now he genuinely didn’t mind having Malfoy around. He actually even missed the bastard despite himself.
“It’s not like that,” Harry replied firmly. “I am helping him because I want to.”
“Bollocks,” Dakin growled before releasing Harry’s chin. “He’s got you brainwashed to believe you are. Feck…”
Harry had never seen Dakin look this seriously angry. The man had his tempers, but not so passionately. He felt sort of guilty for making Dakin react this way.
“Look, let’s forget it,” Harry started lamely, hoping to derail some of the anger. “I’m not really sure what is going on. It’s probably just a temporary fancy is all.”
Dakin’s face was grim. His usual cheer was completely absent as he watched Harry desperately attempt to derail to another conversation. Instead, Dakin pulled Harry towards himself, embracing him so hard Harry was sure his bones would break.
“He can’t have you,” Dakin growled lowly. “You hear me. We’ll find this book of his, and he’ll be out of your life. He can’t have you.” Harry was speechless as the embrace continued. He wasn’t quite sure what was really going on as his friend hugged him bodily. “I won’t allow it. You understand?”
Harry pulled away finally when the man’s arms weakened around him. “Dakin, what—“
“Let’s just forget it for now,” Dakin interjected. “I don’t want to ruin our night together.”
Harry was still very confused but turned back to the film all the same. It was very un-Dakin-like to be so angry even after the conversation had ended. He felt sick with guilt. He shouldn’t have brought it up. There was no way that the two of them would recover from this. It would be there until Malfoy left. Maybe even after.
TBC…
Omgosh, you guys are awesome. I am truly grateful for you reviews. Currently, Draco is sort of a dick, but I promise fluffy romance in the future. As always, looking forward to hearing what you thought and will be updating soon. The chapters are just flowing out of me!
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Before You