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Strong Hands	By : ZooArmy Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 6144 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Disclaimer: This story is based on characters
and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including
but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast
Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or
trademark infringement is intended. Plot and original characters are mine and
may not be used without prior consent.

Warning: NOT BETAD!!!

A/N: Hi you
lot! How are you doing?

I wanted to thank everyone who’s left a wonderful review so far. I know that it
sometimes feels like a real chore to leave a small comment, but those of you
who are writing as well, know how good it feels good to get feedback, even if
it’s just a small ‘I sooooo need chapter…’ I’m not
referring to anyone here. Cough.

Anyway… Thank you!

A/N 2: I’ve a small question;
perhaps someone could be so kind and answer it for me.

We all know that English is not my mother tongue and that I’m far, far from
good, but some said it’s acceptable, considering that it’s not my first
language. On the other hand I got a review that said my grammar is atrocious
and makes it hard to follow the story that the reading fun suffers from it.

Now my question: What can I believe? It’s a bit confusing to get patted on the
back and beaten with a stick at the same time. Not that I feel abused, eh? I
just sometimes tend to exaggerate dramatically. Cough.

Strong Hands

xxxx CHAPTER IV xxxx

‘A small introduction
into the world of Swedish massages’

Draco ran up and down his living room; his hands shoved in to his trouser
pockets that he wouldn’t start biting his nails. His heart was beating
unhealthily fast, his palms were sweaty and he hoped he wouldn’t get sick,
because he definitely felt like it. He looked at the clock on the mantle piece
for the hundredth time in ten minutes and stood still in shock.

Only two minutes. Earlier, the time didn’t want to go by and now it was flying
by? He took his hands out of the pockets and pulled the business card out of
his back pocket.

This was it now, wasn’t it? James had told him to tear the card to activate it,
after he had sent him a letter to thank him for the wonderful present and that
he’d like to have the massage in the early evening. By now he knew he should
have chosen the morning. He had all day long almost gone bonkers in
nervousness.

Three hours had he needed to decide on an outfit that James wouldn’t see
anyway, because Draco would lie naked on the massage table, only covered with a
small towel. When that thought had hit home, he wanted
to cry. James would see him naked. What if he didn’t like him and found him
ugly? What if he would throw him out, the moment he knew that Draco was
interested in him.

He had needed to take a calming potion, or otherwise he wouldn’t have made into
the evening. His eyes shot again up to the clock and he took the card between
both shaking hands. With closed eyes he took one last deep, calming breath and
tore the card.

With the well-known and likewise uncomfortable tug he vanished from his living
room and landed in front of a black glass door that bore the ‘Strong Hands’
symbol at eye level. Did he need to knock now? Or got James a signal when he
arrived? Maybe he should leave again. This had been a bad idea. Draco turned
slowly around, knowing that he chickened out because
the calming potion was diminishing, when the door opened and a young woman
looked at him.

“Good evening. You must be Mr Malfoy, our special client.” The small blond said
and smiled genuinely with practised ease.

“Sp-Special?” Draco stuttered and smacked himself
mentally. Malfoy’s didn’t stutter, no matter how nervous they were.

“Yes, of course.” She said and stepped aside that Draco could come inside the
practice. “James seldom arranges appointments alone, that’s actually my job as
his secretary. And he definitely never has appointments on Sundays.”

Draco felt his stomach twist painfully. James had never lost a word about a
secretary. Did he try to hide something? Brilliant, Draco thought, now he
turned delusional. He focused back on the young woman to drop those irritating
thoughts. “So, eurm, why are you here if he usually
doesn’t work on Sundays?”

“Oh, he asked me to come, to show you everything. Would you please follow me?”
Draco nodded and the young woman led him through a big double sliding door into
a spacious room with huge windows along the opposite wall. The massage table
stood in the centre of the room and a small table with many phials, flasks and
bottles on it, stood next to it.

A black leather sofa was pushed against the left side of the room and a coffee
table made of stone stood in front of it. On the right side were only two
doors. One was open and revealed a big bathroom. The room was plain and simple.

“Please take off your clothes when I’ve left. In the bathroom…” she pointed
towards the open door. “you’ll find a stool to leave
your clothes on and a rack with towels. Please take one of the towels and lay
on your stomach on the table. James will be around soon.”

“Okay, thank you.” Draco said quietly. The woman smiled again and left after
making sure he had no further questions. Draco teetered into the bathroom and
closed the door with shaking hands. The same shaking complicated it to undress
with the usual ease.

He neatly folded his clothes and put them on the stool that stood next to the
towel rack. The bathroom was tiled with black and white marble and the bathtub
was a tad too big to recognise it as a usual bathtub. The blond grabbed a dark
grey towel from the rack and gulped nervously. He so hoped that this wasn’t a
big, big mistake. He dropped his boxer-briefs and threw them on the small pile,
before wrapping the towel around his mid.

Opening the door a tiny bit, he peeked outside and saw that he still was the
only person in the room. He hurried over to the massage table and lay down
quickly. This was all so surreal that he couldn’t quite believe that he really
was in James’ practice and about to get a massage from the stranger he had
somehow fallen for.

He spread the towel across his behind and let the ends fall over the edges of the
table. It didn’t take long until he heard a door open and his whole body tensed
in… he wouldn’t want to say fear.

xXx

Harry had, for about five minutes, stood, with his hand on the handle, behind
the door and tried to get his fluttery nerves under control. With a well-tested
breathing exercise, he even taught his clients sometimes, he got himself under
control and opened the door that lead from his flat to his office.

He forgot to exhale when he saw the pale, slender body of Draco Malfoy lying on
his table, with only the appropriate towel across his mid. He saw the tensing
of the muscles and smiled – Draco was definitely as nervous as he self was.

“Good evening, Draco.” He said quietly and astounded himself that he sounded so
calm and unfazed. Draco made a move to look at him. “Please keep your face in
the opening. First the massage then the rest, okay?”
He asked gently and went closer to the table.

Draco kept his face down and pressed out a nervous “Okay.” He stared down at
the wooden floor and tried to calm his heavy beating heart. James’ voice was a
deep, comforting bass, almost lulling him into a state of security.

“Should we begin?” Harry asked and uncorked one of the bottles on the side
table. A wonderful scent filled the room and Draco closed his eyes and inhaled
deeply. He couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but it wasn’t overpowering and wouldn’t
give him a headache. Warm, oiled hands landed on his shoulders and he twitched
like a small animal.

“Hey, ssh, it’s okay.” Harry
said soothingly and ran both hands over Draco’s shoulder, spreading the massage
oil further.

“Sorry. It’s just a bit unsettling to get touched by someone I haven’t even
seen yet.” Draco admitted meekly and felt his face burn in embarrassment. He
heard James chuckle and groaned inwardly; he’s already turning into a
laughingstock.

“Did you have had a massage ever before?”

“Hmhm.”

“Then just imagine I’m the other masseur and it’s not that awkward
anymore.” Harry suggested and began to carefully knead Draco’s shoulders. He
felt the muscles beneath his fingers tense when Draco snorted and hunched his
shoulders.

“That wouldn’t work well. The first had been a masseuse that couldn’t put
enough strength in it – at least for my liking. And the second was a bloke that
had tried to grope me.” Harry’s hands tightened in anger and purely by chance
he hit a sore spot and Draco groaned in pain, but sighed blissfully when it
ebbed away. He didn’t comment on the former masseurs that had touched Draco and
that the blond talked so light-heartedly about another man groping him. Instead
he tightened his grip again and began with the massage in earnest.

He began with the Effleurage, his hands skimming over the pale back to get
Draco used to his touches and spreading the oil from the shoulders to the towel
that began barely above the buttocks. Completely engrossed in his job, he
didn’t think about where his hands were almost touching.

Harry used the light strokes to feel the tensions out in Draco’s back and
noticed that the blond’s muscles were hard and stressed. He probably hadn’t had
a massage in a while and a desk job did that to you.

“You okay so far?” The brunette asked quietly and let go of Draco’s back to
pour more massage oil in his hand.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you.” Draco answered, but frowned a bit. It was unusual
that the masseur spoke with the clients while giving them a Swedish massage, so
they could relax better, but Draco didn’t mind. James’s smooth and calm voice
helped to switch off.

“You do know how this will proceed, right?” Harry heard Draco snort and smiled.

“Yeah, the painful part starts now, doesn’ it?”

“It won’t hurt.” Harry replied with obvious amusement.

“Says the one, who’ll inflict the pain.” Draco snorted
and heard James laugh heartily. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“This part of the massage is called Petrissage from
the French pétrir and means ‘to knead’.” Harry
explained and rested his hands again on Draco’s back.

“As if knowing what you do to me, will make it any better.” The blond joked and
took a deep breath. He was no fan of pain, but knew from experience that a soft
massage had no effect on him.

Harry began at the shoulders and grabbed the skin and muscles with both hands,
altering between kneading and compressing movements. If you saw it with a
twinkle in your eye, it wasn’t much different to kneading dough. While
kneading, the muscles were loosened through grabbing them with the hands and
while compressing they were pressed to the bones.

Draco hissed when James found a particularly sore spot and cussed mentally when
the man remained by the spot and tormented it until he seemed content. He
worked his way slowly down to the towel clad behind, only to work his way up
again with the same strokes.

The blond’s skin was already an angry red, but Harry wasn’t worried, knowing
that skin and muscles were by now profusely supplied with blood. After a couple
of minutes he loosened his grip and used the Effleurage to give Draco a small
rest period. He skimmed with the flat of his hands over the back to soothe the
muscles and prepare them for the next basic stroke.

He heard the relaxed and calm breathing of Draco and his mind switched for a
moment from the professional mode to the ‘just-Harry’ mode. He saw the slick,
glistening back, the slender hips, the two round mounds beneath the grey towel
that virtually screamed to get touched…

Harry bit his lower lip hard to get a grip on himself. Business.
This was fucking business for now, he admonished himself. Afterwards, if Draco
shouldn’t decide to bolt, he could perhaps gawk at him openly – and maybe even
more…

His hands glided slowly along the sides of Draco’s back, down to his waist,
where he let them linger. His thumbs rubbed over the spine, until he found a
certain spot. He circled the tips of his thumbs on the spot with slight
pressure to soften the spot a bit and then intensified the pressure that Draco
yelped.

“Your back is one big tension. Doesn’t it hurt?” Harry asked and shook his
head. He had many managers and otherwise stressed people on his clients list,
but it had been a while since he had had such serious case. That wouldn’t be
solved with one session.

“Right now it hurts, yes.” The blond grumbled. He lifted his arms and Harry
panicked that he would get up and leave, but rested
them under his face and kept his eyes closed, with his face to the windows.

Harry tightened his grip around Draco’s waist and leaned down to his head.
“I’ll make up for it later, okay?” He purred and rubbed his nose against the
soft skin behind Draco’s ear. Malfoy tensed heavily and Harry heard his breath
hitch. Hopefully he hadn’t gone too far. He couldn’t even tell what had come
over him to do it, but it had felt right. His goddamn Gryffindor courage had
probably woken up in that moment.

But you could partly blame Draco, couldn’t you? Harry argued with himself.
After all he was the one lying on the table, in all his glory, barely covered,
right?

“I should hope so too!” Draco said after a moment in silence and Harry felt
lightheaded for a moment, until he remembered that Draco was interested in
James’ approaches and not in Harry as Harry. He got a grip on himself and was
determined to at least finish the massage. It was his job and it had been a
present.

His hands skimmed again over the back, this time to look for certain ‘knots’ in
the musculature. When he found one of those trigger points he used a thumb to
rub them, like he had done before and intensified the pressure until he felt
the hardening loosen. The problem with this so called ‘Friction’ was that he
needed to thoroughly concentrate on the task or otherwise it could happen that
he’d damage the muscle.

With his mind completely devoted to the task at hand, he didn’t notice that
Draco opened his eyes and peeked at him.

xXx

He had thought his heart would stop beating when James had sexily whispered in
his ear and rubbed his nose against one of his most sensitive spots. He hadn’t
expected such turn, hoped of course, but it had been so sudden that he had
tensed heavily in pure shock.

Finding his equilibrium back hadn’t been that easy and had taken a moment or
two. Hiding his nervousness and excitement behind serenity had been the only
thing that had sounded reasonable to him.

So, he humoured James and came back with a witty response, although he knew
that his tension hadn’t gone unnoticed. He felt the hands on his back began
their work again and found spots where his muscles seemed to be knotted.
Getting used to the pain would have been exaggerated, but he tried to find some
relaxation even with these ministrations of James.

His curiosity grew with every new thought that sprouted in his brain. How did
James look like? The knowledge that the other man was interested in him in the
same way as he was, accelerated the urge immensely.
Should he dare a peek? James had said he shouldn’t, but wasn’t it more than
unfair that James knew how he looked like even without clothes and he, Draco,
hadn’t even seen the other’s face yet.

Oh fuck it, he thought and opened his right eye a fraction to peek between his
lashes. For a moment he saw nothing, but knew that James was still there,
because his hands were still warm on his back. He could see long, dark brown
curls, when the masseur leaned forward and Draco couldn’t take it anymore. He
turned his head a tiny bit and tore his eyes wide open when he saw who James
was.

“POTTER?” he screeched and pushed up on his arms that Harry stumbled backwards
when Draco’s back hit him in the chin. “What’s this sick game? Where’s James?”
The blond roared and jumped off the table.

Harry stood about two metres away and felt his tender chin, but forgot
everything in the world when Draco stood in front of him in all his glory and
with angry raging eyes. “Potter!” Draco demanded again
attention, but Harry was too occupied with roaming his eyes over the body that
was perfection for him.

Draco followed Potter’s stares to find out what had caught his interest to
forget all manners and ignore him completely. His eyes travelled down and a
shocked “Aaaah!” filled the air. He quickly picked
the towel up and wrapped it around his waist.

Was Potter pouting?

“What the fuck’s going on here?” Draco asked with renewed anger, but his
slightly tinged cheeks reminded of the embarrassment.

Harry felt his chin again and opened his mouth a couple of times, but nothing hurt
badly. He received another glare from the blond and didn’t know what to say.

“Fine!” Draco huffed. “I don’t need to take this
shite. I’ve better things to do.” Malfoy stormed over to the bathroom to
probably get changed and leave, and suddenly Harry knew that everything would
be over if the bathroom door would close.

“Wait!” he cried and followed the blond before he could close the door. He
pushed the door open, grabbed Draco roughly and forced his lips on his in a
heated, demanding kiss. At first he stared with his green eyes, full of hunger,
into grey eyes, wide open in shock. But Draco didn’t push him away that he
gentled the kiss and slowly the eyelids fluttered shut.

Harry thought he might as well die that very moment, because it couldn’t get more
perfect when Malfoy’s sweet, hesitant tongue rubbed against his own in
response. But the moment was too quickly over and he began to curse the blond’s
conscious in every language he remembered, when it seemingly re-awoke and Draco
pushed him away. Not too harsh, he noticed.

“What the…”

“I am James.” Harry blurted out and tried to seal their lips again before Draco
could process the words, but failed. Malfoy’s mouth dropped open for a
millisecond; at least he hoped it hadn’t been longer, before he took a step
back from Harry.

“You’re having me on, right? Tell me, you have me on, Potter!” Malfoy demanded
and glowered at the other man as if he wanted to slash his throat. Harry saw
the pale, elegant hands clench hard enough that the knuckles turned white, but
he knew he couldn’t back out now.

“I. Am. James.” He repeated, slower and
quieter, and blinked at Draco as if waiting for the first blow. He heard the
sharp intake of breath, but instead of the expected yelling, insulting and
maybe even punching, filled laughter the bathroom.

xxXxx

TBC

I know you want to slander, or even worse slaughter, me right now. But to make
up for this mean cliff-hanger I promise you manonman
action in the next chapter, ‘kay?
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Strong Hands