Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Who Do You Think You Are?	By : sharinganswirl Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4687 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and make no money from the creation of this story.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
A/N: First of all, I'm SO sorry for the huge delay in getting this chapter up. Life sort of happened. I work an 8-5 job, with an hour commute each way, and I was taking an online class this last term. I'm done with the school bit, so I'm back to writing!
Sorry again for the delay… I hope you guys enjoy this next bit.
Please let me know how you're liking it! Reviews help me feel better about my writing, which will yield more chapters for you!
Of course, I don't own anything. :)
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Chapter 4
They had agreed to meet again in a few days so Potter could confirm if this was an endeavor he was willing to work on for Draco.
Draco rolled his eyes at the memory. He should have just walked out at that point. Who cared if this was something Potter wanted to work on or not? It wasn't about Potter's personal comfort. It was about the customer (Draco) getting what they needed and paying exceptionally for it.
Instead, Draco was now on pins and needles, wondering if Potter was actually going to accept the job or not. As much as Draco hated to admit it, he was relying on Potter.
"Draco, dear, pacing doesn't become you," Narcissa spoke calmly while working on a crossword puzzle. They were outside in the gardens, enjoying the warm morning sun. Or at least Narcissa had been enjoying it.
Sucking in a breath, Draco held his tongue. If it had been anybody else, Draco would have snapped at them to go to hell, but he knew the repercussions if he were to do so to his own mother.
As if knowing the restraint Draco had just exercised, Narcissa glanced up. "How about we go into town for some lunch and shopping?"
Distractions would be very good at this point, Draco knew. "Yes, Mother. That sounds delightful."
Putting her crossword aside, Narcissa rose. "I'll go freshen up and then we'll go. You may want to change your shirt."
Draco's questionable shirt was wrinkled from his hands fidgeting with rolling up his sleeves and tugging at his collar. He didn't know what was wrong with him lately. Malfoy's usually didn't show such obvious anxiety.
He lied. He knew exactly what was wrong with him. He just didn't want to admit it. Seeing Potter again had rattled him. Sure, they had seen each other in passing a few times, where Draco couldn't seem to control his tongue, but it was nothing like their meeting two nights ago. It had actually been slightly pleasant, if a bit strained with their history looming over them.
In truth, throughout school, Draco had often found his eyes lingering on Potter, and not always with malicious intent. Potter had been an attractive teenage boy, and Draco's hormones had raged just like everybody else's. Of course, circumstance had prevented Draco from allowing anything to be noticed or pursued. He had been pretty sure back then that Potter was bent, and he was more than sure that he was now.
Now, almost nine years later and forced to sit across from Potter during their meeting, Draco couldn't help but notice that Potter had grown into quite the attractive man. His hair was longer, tousled in a way that allowed Draco to imagine his hands carding through it while snogging Potter speechless. Those beautiful green eyes that Draco remembered dreaming about in school, not that he'd ever admit it, had been bright and alert with anticipation as Draco detailed what he was looking for in his family history. Draco wasn't surprised at Potter's slight scoff of disbelieve when Draco mentioned there would be royalty in his line. Potter made some snarky comment about royalty being distinctly muggle and how Malfoy probably didn't want to discover the royalty in his line. "What with you being a purist and all that rot," Potter had said. Malfoy wisely held his tongue.
When they had stood to shake hands and part ways, Draco couldn't help but admire Potter's physique, which had broadened and filled out over the years. Potter topped out at 6 feet and change and had enough muscles to be the next Chudley Cannons Beater. The sweater Potter had been wearing left little to the imagination and Draco found himself wishing Potter would just hoist him up against the wall and fuck him senseless.
Feeling himself grow warm with the fantasy, Draco shook himself. He noticed that his mother had vacated the gardens while he was deep in thought, who knows how long ago. Draco quickly made his way to his bedchambers. He desperately needed a cold shower and a fresh shirt.
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Harry knew he must have been in Heaven. There was frothy foam, lightly flavored with vanilla, mixed with rich espresso in his cup, which hit his tongue in a rush of euphoria every couple of seconds. He didn't understand how Muggles did it without magic, but he knew the contents of his white and green paper cup was as close to perfection as they could get. He let out a moan as his eyes closed in pleasure.
"You'd think that drink was giving you a blow job, Potter," came a slightly amused voice.
Opening one eye, Harry drank in the sight of the tall, lean blonde. He was wearing a crisp white shirt with a bold blue pattern splattered across it that hugged his frame and tailored black jeans. He looked good enough to eat.
"For all you know, it just might be," Harry drawled. He took another sip.
"I don't understand how you could love that concoction, especially prepared by Muggles." Malfoy pulled out the chair opposite Harry and sat down, not waiting for an invitation this time.
Harry lowered his drink, unhurried. "The Muggles invented it. Of course they're going to do it right."
"I didn't invent sex, but I'm willing to bet that I do it phenomenally."
Harry, who had just about taken another sip, paused. Silence hung in the air.
Finally, Harry raised an eyebrow and said, "That's twice now you've mentioned sex. Even within a two-minute time frame. Need to cool off before we continue our chat?"
Malfoy had the decency to blush. If that's what you could call the light pink tinge to his ears.
"I'm fine," he said shortly. "Shall we?"
Harry smirked. "Maybe you'd like to try a latté?"
Malfoy's glare was icy. "No." So was his voice.
Shrugging to himself, Harry placed his latté on to the table. He reached into his messenger bag sitting on the ground beside his chair and pulled out a thin blue folder, with the label "Malfoy" across the front.
"Honestly, Potter. What did you think I meant when I said discretion is of the utmost importance?" Draco huffed.
Not wanting to admit to the slip on his part, Harry just rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Malfoy," he mocked. "It stays at home unless I'm meeting with you. And it's charmed to look like a muggle newspaper to prying eyes." That last part was a lie, but Draco didn't need to know that.
Draco nodded, satisfied. "Any luck?"
Harry grinned, excited to start to delve into his work. "Well, yes. I found birth certificates for Lucius as well as a brother of his—"
"Wait!" Malfoy raised a hand. "Brother? This is the first I've heard of it."
Harry nodded. "Understandable. Lucius' older brother, and the original heir, died within six months. Crib death. Purebloods always keep those things under lock and key. I'm surprised I stumbled across the certificate while looking for Lucius'."
The truth of the matter wasn't that he had just stumbled across it. He was actively trying to find any other documents that had anything to do with Malfoy. He always trusted his gut and knew that with the Malfoy name, there would be a lot of hidden secrets. His first clue had been a census where Lucius' parents had listed one child, but it was a year before Lucius had been born. After finding Lucius' birth certificate, Harry went back and dug further to see where Lucius' supposed big brother's certificate was. It was hidden deep within stacks of papers in the Ministries archives, misfiled of course.
"Other than that," Harry continued, "I haven't found much else. Some other census records, but I haven't found any further back than your Grandfather Malfoy. I'm still interested in searching. I know it doesn't seem like much now, but it does take time…" Harry cut himself off, realizing he was rambling. Instead, he picked up his coffee cup and drained it.
Malfoy watched all of this, amused. "By all means, Potter," he stated with a wave of his hand.
Potter's face lit up with pleasure. He then began to spout off different ideas he had about where he wanted to look next, what possibilities there could be, as well as possible travel plans. Draco's attention wasn't really focused on what Harry was saying, only his facial expressions and the way his eyes just shone with excitement. It was very attractive. If Draco were honest with himself, which he was at his convenience, he would admit that an odd stirring was beginning in his belly, growing warmer at the thought of Harry's eyes being glazed over in pleasure…
Draco wasn't even fully aware that his thoughts had drifted that direction until he heard Harry mention something about collaboration with a colleague.
"No, no, absolutely not, Potter. Nobody else could know about what you're doing for me. I require confidentiality of the highest degree." The Malfoy stare could pierce through walls.
"Yeah, yeah… I get it. Trust me, Malfoy." Harry picked up his cup again and drained the rest of the contents.
Draco paused. Did he trust Harry? Absolutely not. Especially after everything they had been through. Could he ever trust Harry?
He doubted it.
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Hermione poked Ron in the shoulder. "Ronald."
A startled snort clued Hermione that she had woken her husband from near sleep.
"Wha?" came the groggy grunt next to her. Slowly, Ron struggled to lean up on one arm, peering with sleep heavy eyes over at his wife.
"Ron. I can't sleep."
Ron blinked slowly. "Erm, love, there's dreamless sleep in the medicine cabinet…"
Hermione huffed. "Yes, I'll take some in a bit, but I wanted to talk to you for moment."
Ron closed his eyes and searched deep for some patience. He loved his wife, he really did. But sometimes he truly believed she was a bit mental. "What's wrong, love?"
"It's Harry. We haven't heard from him in almost a month." Hermione bit her lip, worried.
Ron rolled his eyes. "Yes, that's how Harry is nowadays, sweets. Ever sense he became a 'genie' (Ron's personal nickname for Harry's choice in career, he thought it was pretty clever, in any case) he gets lost in the past. It's just how he works. After enough time passes, you wake me up, worried, then we get up and go over to his place to make sure he's alive." Ron rolled over, preparing to get up and put on some trousers. Then he looked over at his wife. "You coming?"
Hermione beamed. She really loved her husband.
*******************
They found Harry alright, nearly buried in weeks of take-away boxes and paper coffee cups. They nearly had to shut off his computer to get his attention.
"Oh, honestly, Harry…" Hermione sighed. With a flick of her wand, she vanished all of the trash and just looked at Harry.
He looked like he hadn't slept in a month. His beard had grown out to cover most of his face, dark shadows haunted his eyes and his hair was the worse she had ever seen it. Based on the smell, she estimated his last shower may just have been two weeks ago.
"Oh, bullocks. Are we at that stage again, guys?" Harry rubbed his hands over his face. He fiddled with the hair on his cheeks, as if he wasn't even aware of its presence before now. Knowing the routine, he smiled sheepishly. "I'm not even sure if there is anything edible and drinkable in the kitchen, but help yourself while I get cleaned up." Harry stood up and stretched, his back, shoulders and neck popping. "Thanks, again," he groaned.
Hermione just huffed and flounced out of the room, hair whirling.
Ron grinned. "Yeah, mate. Anytime." He turned to follow Hermione. Looking back, he couldn't resist, "You look like shit, mate."
Harry stuck his tongue out.
Ten minutes later found Harry freshly washed and shaved, despite the late hour. A quick tempus charm told him it was near 1AM.
'Merlin,' he thought. 'I'll never learn…' He shook his head at himself and his habits as he entered the kitchen, where his friends were waiting.
Hermione managed to pull something together for Harry to eat. It was some sort of creamy pasta with tuna and vegetables. Harry didn't question it and just started eating. He waited for the lecture. That was also part of the routine.
"Harry, you've got to take better care of yourself than this. One day, Ron and I will come in and you…" her voice trailed off as she shut her eyes. Harry's eyes flew to Ron in the usual, 'Help me!' plea. And every time, Ron would raise an eyebrow.
Harry sighed.
"Yes, I know. I gotta figure something out, but 'Mione, you don't understand how addicting this is! It's like I have to find the answer right now and every time I find a new bit of information it's like a treat edging me on…" His voice trailed off. They knew all of this. "If it makes any difference, this one is the hardest cases I've ever had to do. It's for that wizard pureblood family I told you about. It's a miracle the Ministry ever even embraced electronic filing, to be honest. It makes this process a little easier, but not by much. I'm going to have to go back to the Ministry again, but they'll start to ask more questions if I keep showing up poking through family records."
Finished with his late dinner, Harry began to methodically wash up.
Hermione gave a little smile. "It's great that you're helping them, Harry, really. But you also need to look out for yourself, you know."
"But I have you guys!" Harry grinned, cheekily.
What remained unsaid was how Ron and Hermione might not always be there for Harry anymore.
Ron scoffed. "You need a bloke, mate."
Hermione hissed and elbowed Ron in the side. "Ronald!"
"Ow, 'Mione!"
Harry started cracking up. "Thanks, Ron. I'm working on it."
Or rather, he was working on figuring out why Draco Malfoy of all people had piqued his interest so much. By all rights, he shouldn't even be entertaining the possibility that they could hook up. But Draco was fit! Harry couldn't deny it.
It had been almost a month since their last meeting, the one where Malfoy seemingly had his mind permanently in the gutter. Harry smirked to himself at the memory. It was cute seeing Malfoy all flustered. It made him seem human.
Then there was the situation that Malfoy had employed his services. It would be highly unprofessional to start hitting on the blond, though Harry was sorely tempted just to get a rise out of him.
Hermione recognized the gleam in Harry's eye. "I think he has his eye on somebody already." She smiled.
Harry quickly looked at the two. "Yes, he does. My most recent client actually. I haven't pursued for obvious reasons." He sighed. "This might just be the longest case I've ever taken on."
"Well, let's get you to bed. Things always look better in the morning. Who knows, maybe after a good sleep you'll have a breakthrough." Hermione took one of Harry's arms and started to steer him toward his bedroom.
"You're probably right." Harry yawned. "You guys go on home, I'll head to bed right now, I promise."
Pursing her lips in skepticism, Hermione almost just tossed Harry into his bedroom. However, thinking better of it, Hermione nodded and looked at Ron, who looked exhausted.
"OK, Harry. You win. We'll have dinner this weekend. No questions." Giving Harry a quick kiss on the cheek, she turned to Ron and the floo.
Watching the green flames sweep his friends away, Harry was suddenly hit with a wave of exhaustion. He turned and quickly found his bed and collapsed onto it, asleep before he his head hit the pillow.
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Draco found himself pacing in front of one of the windows in his study… again.
Pacing was not what Malfoy's did. It had been a month since he had talked to Potter. There were no updates, not even via owl. He didn't understand why it was taking so long. He'd expected to have his family tree completed by the next time he saw Potter, more so he'd never have to see Potter again, but with every long day, it seemed less and less likely.
Potter. Draco ran his hands over his face in frustration, barely registering the peach fuzz growing on his chin. He'd been dreaming of those green eyes and unruly hair for the past month. He refused to take a Dreamless Sleep potion, that wasn't healthy, he kept telling himself.
And maybe a small part of him really enjoyed the dreams he had of Potter. Not like he'd ever admit it.
The dreams started innocently enough. The night after their last meeting was the first dream. Draco and Harry had been sitting at the same table, only this time, Harry smirked knowingly at Draco and picked up his coffee cup. Licking the rim, Harry took a nice, deep swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly in his long smooth neck. Draco couldn't stop staring and started to feel the arousal pooling low in his belly.
He had awoken to a rather unpleasant erection which he ignored in favor of a cold shower.
The dreams kept the same tone, always at the coffee shop, always teasing. The latest dream had progressed to Harry taking Draco's hand and was pulling him over the table, intent on kissing Draco. Draco woke up in a shock, immediately wishing he was back in the dream snogging Harry senseless. This was most disconcerting.
Shaking himself, Draco leaned against the window frame, looking out on the vast Malfoy grounds. The white peacocks were wondering through the garden, where his mother was, pruning some flowers for Manor. She looked so regal and strong. Draco always knew the true strength of the Malfoy family came from his mother. She had even looked straight into Voldemort's eyes and lied to him.
Draco knew he could never do that. By all rights, he should be in Azkaban right now. But Potter had stuck his nose to where it didn't belong, like always, and had convinced the Ministry to pardon Narcissa and Draco Malfoy of all alleged crimes. Lucius, who had also proved to be a spy for the light at the very end, was sentenced to 10 years in Azkaban, and had been released early with good behavior. When the truth came out during the Trials, the wizarding world had been in a huge uproar, demanding The Kiss for Lucius. Harry, once again, had stood up for the Malfoy's, saying some politically correct nonsense about how the War made many people do horrible things.
The last time Draco had seen Potter before their fateful meeting at the coffee shop had been at the sentencing hearing for his father. Potter had nodded in Draco's direction, and Draco and nodded in return. The silent agreement being that what was in the past was past. They were square.
Now, Draco wanted to be anything but square with Potter.
With that thought, Draco whirled away from the window and toward his desk. He would send an owl to Potter, demanding an update.

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