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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
- 3
- 4
- 5
Chapter Four: Deal-Breaker
*
The next few days crawled by, leaving Harry exhausted and frustrated. The continued dreams of a certain absent wizard plagued him nightly. He also had a rather awkward sort of exchange with Dakin every time they were together.
Nothing felt right anymore. His entire life that he had worked tirelessly over the last six years to maintain felt like it was disintegrating around him. It made him bitter. Bitter mostly at himself, but partly at Malfoy for corrupting his normalcy.
So, when Malfoy returned from his business after a few days, Harry was hardly welcoming. Actually, he almost ignored the other wizard entirely in attempts at calming the raging storm of emotions brewing with the arrival.
“You look a mess, Potter.”
Thanks to you, you right bastard.
Harry glared silently at Malfoy before going into the kitchen and attempting to soothe his rage with cooking.
If it was one thing he had learned in those years he was forced to live with the Dursleys, it was that cooking had a sort of relaxing effect on his person. The amount of focus it needed took him away from the nearly overwhelming emotions his relatives had brought about. Now being no exception.
Harry quickly added a few choice ingredients to the omelet, seasoning it to his liking with the flick of his wrist over the pan. It helped calm him substantially as he watched the egg bubble in the pan. Right up until Malfoy decided Harry had been too long in the kitchen.
“What are you doing?”
Harry nearly growled. “What does it look like, you prat? I’m cooking breakfast.”
There was a moment of silence before Malfoy came beside him and peered curiously at his face. “What has got you all huffy, Potter? Are you perhaps…menstruating?”
That did it. Harry’s rage was back. He slammed the spatula down onto the counter with a bang and rounded on the other wizard, disregarding the near foot of height difference. “You’re a right bastard, Malfoy!”
Malfoy’s eyes grew circular before slitting with rage. “Pardon? I barely arrive, and you are already angry with me? That hardly seems mature, Potter.”
Harry scoffed before jerking the pan of the burner and flipping the omelet with practiced grace. Malfoy was momentarily sidetracked by the action, apparently amazed by the skill. Harry slid the pan back onto the burner and focused his glare back on the other wizard.
“Mature? What sort of adult complains and whines like a child with a bit of cold? Even more, blackmails someone to obtain an item they desire in exchange for not ruining that person’s small semblance of happiness? You have no right to say that to me, Malfoy.” Harry’s voice had dropped several octaves in warning. His body prickled with his fury, magic whipping out around them and electrifying the air. “You also seem to underestimate me, Malfoy. If not for my conscience, you wouldn’t be alive right now.”
Malfoy seemed to sense that his taunting had gone a bit too far. In an act that caught Harry by complete surprise, mostly because it felt like he should be dreaming, Malfoy’s face frowned and eyes portrayed genuine guilt. “I apologize, Potter. I seem to have insulted you greatly –“
Harry laughed mirthlessly. “Intentionally, insulted me greatly.”
“Yes,” Malfoy stated apprehensively. For the first time since Harry had known Malfoy, the other man gave way to a less than elegant action. He shrugged sheepishly while saying: “Old habits die hard, Potter.”
Harry couldn’t hold it back. He laughed out loud. His head jerked back, and he laughed like he hadn’t laughed in a long time. With tears streaming his eyes, he regarded the other wizard who seemed flabbergasted by the display.
“Okay,” he finally said, wiping a few stray tears. “I’ll forgive you this time. Mostly because you seem genuinely apologetic. You are a right bastard though, Malfoy.”
“Undeniably, Potter. I never claimed to be otherwise.” Malfoy seemed uneasy but asked once more, “So what’s the reason for your agitation? I doubt it is entirely due to my arrival.”
“No,” Harry said finally as he attempted to salvage the burning omelet. “I just…have a lot on my mind right now.”
“I know our relationship is not exactly one in which thoughts could be shared as they are with friends, but I am going to be here a while. I could listen,” Malfoy offered surprisingly. Harry’s face was sure to say so. “Oh, come on Potter, I am not completely devoid of empathy. I do realize that our circumstances and relationship hardly give you any reason to desire such an offer, but I would rather not be on the receiving end of your wrath without reason either.”
It was surprising that Malfoy would offer. Mostly because Malfoy wasn’t the sort of wizard that troubled himself over others. Maybe this relationship development wasn’t one-sided like Harry initially believed. Maybe Malfoy was starting to warm to him as well. This very thought made his stomach flutter intensely.
“I…sure,” Harry thought out loud. “I mean, no. I don’t need to talk about it. It’s not your fault. Sorry, it was bad form to take it out on you.”
“Well at least you acknowledge your mistake.”
“Prat,” Harry laughed before plating the slightly overcooked omelet. “Okay, since you made me ruin the omelet, you had better eat it.” He offered a plate to Malfoy who gladly accepted it and headed to the dining table.
Harry’s emotions swirled again. He was right back where he started. Sighing, he took a seat beside Malfoy and enjoyed a small moment with the other wizard over breakfast.
*
Harry had called Dakin earlier that day to give him the day off. He was sort of eager to spend a bit more time with Malfoy alone – though he would never say so out loud. Instead, he offered to choose another series for Malfoy to read since the other wizard had finished the previous one.
He skimmed through his collection thoughtfully. It would seem that Malfoy was intrigued by adventure since the last book had been an adventure series, so deciding that Malfoy may enjoy a little magic, he chose ‘The Lord of the Rings’ series. Taking the prequel ‘Hobbit’ over to Malfoy, he offered the other wizard the book.
“This one is a bit longer, but I think you’ll enjoy it all the same,” Harry said with a kind smile.
After their spat earlier, everything felt calmer between them. Friendlier maybe? Though Harry was sort of hesitant to use the word. What he imagined doing with Malfoy was far from what a friend would do. It made him feel guilty to think of it.
Malfoy studied the book curiously, as if the cover might give way to some sort of information. Harry had to keep from laughing. It was just like watching a child – the apprehension was sort of endearing.
“I will be going to town tonight to see if I can find out more information,” Harry started as he sat behind the checkout counter. “A mate of mine might know how I can get in touch with someone related to the McEvoys.”
Malfoy had started the book, so he had to glance upwards from the page to address Harry. “Oh?” The lack of interest made Harry slightly perplexed. However, Malfoy recovered quickly and continued, “Might I join you?”
“You’re asking for permission?” Harry stated with mock surprise. He pinched himself for added effect. “I must be dreaming.”
“Very funny, Potter.”
“Yeah, you can come along,” Harry replied with a wry grin. “No complaining though, or I’ll make you walk home.”
Malfoy seemed genuinely shocked by this statement. “You would what?”
“You heard me, Malfoy. Now shut it,” he said before a customer entered the store, and their conversation was effectively silenced.
*
“Well,” Harry said with a great sigh as they left the small home just outside of Sligo, “that was a waste of time.”
“I couldn’t agree more, Potter,” Malfoy concurred bitterly.
The last two hours had consisted of no information and a whole lot of storytelling that had very little to do with what they were in search of. Unfortunately, as Harry was unable to be rude, they had listened for nearly two hours while the old man prattled on about the old days.
Malfoy had looked nauseated upon leaving. Harry was—unfortunately—in much the same state. The saying ‘nails on a chalkboard’ came to mind as the trudged down the path towards where the car was parked.
“That muggle certainly enjoyed the sound of his own voice,” Malfoy complained with a grim look.
“Something the two of you have in common,” Harry commented with a smirk to which Malfoy casted a glare at him. Harry laughed softly before opening the car. “Yeah, many of them are like that.”
“It felt like the bad end of an interview with Rita Skeeter.” And Harry had to agree.
It was already nearly eight by the time they finished, so they headed into town for supper. Since he assumed that Malfoy would be unsatisfied with any establishment they would eat at, he chose his personal favorite and headed just out of the heart of Sligo.
The atmosphere welcomed them as soon as they arrived. There were cheers and laughter around the makeshift bar counter where an old box television displayed the current football game. Seemed Sligo was playing tonight.
It was a bit more crowded than usual, causing his companion to nearly paint against his side as they navigated through the crowd towards the hostess. She greeted them with a small smile, bobbing her head knowingly at Harry, before leading them towards a more private part of the restaurant. Thankfully, he was a regular and treated to the best seats in the house.
As the cheering continued around them, Harry offered to explain the menu to the uncomfortable looking Malfoy.
“This is the best they have,” Harry stated pointing to a meal on the list. “From what I know of your tastes, you won’t be displeased.”
Malfoy looked genuinely grateful as he nodded at Harry. “Thank you.”
“Just trying to avoid hearing you complain, Malfoy.”
“Undoubtedly.” Malfoy peeled his eyes away from all the activity at the bar towards Harry. “So do you come here often, Potter?”
“Is that some sort of lame pick-up line, Malfoy? I would have thought the Great Draco Malfoy would be well-versed in the art of seduction by now,” Harry taunted with a wry grin.
Malfoy’s face morphed into disgust. “And you call me conceited. Do you think everyone just falls over themselves in love with you, Potter?” Harry shrugged, smiling. Malfoy rubbed his face in frustration. “How you have managed to have relations with women is beyond me, Potter.”
Harry licked his lips apprehensively, pretending to be occupied with his menu. “I don’t.”
“Pardon?”
“I don’t. Have relations with women that is,” Harry elaborated nonchalantly as he pretended to look over the menu. Truth be told, he already knew what he wanted before they had walked in the door. “I—uh—haven’t had any sort of relationship since Hogwarts.”
“How is that even possible?” Malfoy asked with piqued interest. “That is six bloody years, Potter!”
Harry smiled sadly, eyes glancing up towards the beauty of his companion. “Unlike you, I’m not anyone’s type. And it’s better that way,” Harry stated almost whispering. The conversation had ventured into another awkward topic, so he steered it back. “So, I asked Dakin to watch over the shop for a couple of days. I got a call from another acquaintance in Galway that has seen a book with the same title as the one we are looking for. He’s going to take us to it. It’s worth a shot, right?”
Malfoy seemed less than happy with Harry’s derailment. His eyes were watching Harry, observing him in a way that made Harry want to fidget. The scrutiny was starting to make his heart palpitate nervously.
Harry had never truly feared anyone – even Voldemort. Why was it—however—that when Malfoy looked at him with such intensity Harry wanted to flee, or in the very least, look away?
Harry found his eyes straying away from the other, appearing to observe their surroundings as if those eyes, that body, didn’t beckon him back. He swallowed around his nervousness and was glad for the reprieve when their waitress took the order.
When she left, Harry was once more faced with his current predicament. He was finding he didn’t appreciate how observant Malfoy was. It didn’t do him any good when he wanted to portray himself differently than what he felt.
“You are inconceivably terrible at deception, Potter,” the other wizard stated simply. “Regardless, it is hardly my business why you have chosen a life of celibacy. I—on the other hand—would be unable to manage that sort of physical restraint.”
Harry felt the relief of laughter as he tossed Malfoy another smirk. “Yeah, you’d probably combust with pent up sexual frustration.”
“There is no shame in a healthy sex drive, Potter,” Malfoy proclaimed arrogantly. “I wonder how you have managed this long.”
“Not everyone needs it as often as you do,” Harry stated, imagining that Malfoy must indeed have a very, very healthy sexual appetite. Although, the very idea gave Harry a tight feeling in his chest. It made his stomach feel queasy just imagining Malfoy with another.
“Six years, though, Potter. Unfathomable,” Malfoy commented with disbelief.
Six years was no small feat. True. Several days—however—was easily accomplished.
Although, this made Harry question how Malfoy was managing while being out here with him. Did Malfoy seek relief while he was away for those few days? That mere thought caused pain to shoot through Harry’s chest and left him momentarily breathless.
This was doing him no good. Why should he care where Malfoy got his? It shouldn’t matter to him at all. He repeated his mantra desperately until their food arrived, offering only vague responses to Malfoy’s few attempts at conversation.
*
Normally, Harry was quite lazy when it came to his leisure mornings. Lately, he had made a point to be hospitable despite the company. However, after nearly an entire night of restlessly, desperately attempting to sleep, Harry was less than willing to get up.
He resituated the blanket around him for the umpteenth time before trying to settle once more into sleep.
He had planned to leave for Galway in early afternoon, so there was no real need to rush out of bed. He was even happy to make Malfoy starve just to avoid seeing him. However, after the evening they shared, Harry was even more confused by his thoughts and feelings.
He shouldn’t want Malfoy this much. It had never been this hard to disregard someone, and the feelings he had for them. Yet, here he was, struggling to disregard Malfoy.
He couldn’t fathom the reasoning. He wondered if the sharing of quarters, or maybe even the quality time spent had aided in the struggle. Maybe the very idea of Malfoy being gay was making his thoughts addled.
Regardless, Harry was a mess. A bloody filthy mess.
Harry turned over again, groaning when all the movement did was make him face another direction. Nothing was bringing sleep. Also, the pesky little part in his trousers had been throbbing and hard all morning. He refused to touch himself again. He would never be able to face Malfoy the next few days if he did.
No. He needed to think of something else. Something to make his little problem go away.
Minerva McGonagall dressed only in her knickers. Harry shudder, his face drawing down in disgust. That only managed to make him queasy. Okay, maybe a different approach. Harry closed his eyes tightly, thinking of Snape, naked and brewing potions bare-arsed.
That’s just dangerous, Harry thought. He laughed out loud. That wasn’t helpful either.
Harry threw his arm out and pivoted with a groan onto his back. Bloody hormones. He wasn’t some…teenager. Why wouldn’t this bloody erection go away?!
A few knocks at his door made his body stiffen instantly. Malfoy opened his door, presuming his knocking was enough to gain entry. Harry quickly bundled the blanket to cover his erection and glared at the perfectly preened wizard as he entered unbidden into Harry’s room.
“Do you think that you might surface from your bed chambers before noon, Potter?”
Harry growled before tightening his hold on the comforter. “What are you doing in here, Malfoy?”
Malfoy walked unabashedly into the room, settling down on the bed and confronting Harry head-on. Harry’s hold tightened impossibly. His lower body was responding to the idea of having Malfoy here, in his room.
His pulse spiked and face flushed. Malfoy was on his bed like he had been in his dream. Harry’s breathing grew ragged as he attempted to return Malfoy’s stare. “Well?”
“I simply wondered if you had died, Potter.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Unlucky for you, I’m in good health.”
Malfoy’s eyes glinted with amusement, traveling first from Harry’s face and then down to the tightly held comforter. “Problem there, Potter?”
Harry’s breath whooshed out of him. “What?” he croaked.
Malfoy’s eyebrow rose a fraction. “I assumed by the near death grip you have on your duvet, you are up in other ways, hm?”
Harry couldn’t breathe, let alone speak. Was he having that dream again? Could this be the start of another wet dream? Did he manage to fall asleep? Harry’s mind ran rampant with theories.
“I suppose that six years of repression could lead to a very sizeable problem.”
Harry was frozen. Unable to speak or breathe as Malfoy continued to watch him with unrestrained amusement. Bloody bastard.
“It’s the bloody morning, you prat!” Harry all but yelled before his jaw clamped down.
Malfoy looked positively delighted. Fuck.
Deciding that there was little else he could do to humiliate himself, Harry threw the comforter from his hidden lower half and got out of bed in a huff. His face had gone every shade of red as he stormed towards the bathroom. He shut himself inside and pressed his forehead to the door, suddenly very tired.
Merlin. What did he see in that bastard?!
*
“Just keep an eye on things,” Harry said again to the argumentative Dakin. “I’ll be back in a day or two.” He hung up the call and immediately packed up the car to leave.
“Mountain troll trouble?”
Harry tossed Malfoy a glare before getting inside the car and closing the door. “No,” he said in a clipped tone before starting the car.
Actually, he had big trouble. Dakin was close to chasing him down – even using a locator spell if he needed to – in order to force Harry home and away from Malfoy. He hadn’t been exactly forthcoming with the details of the trip. Mostly, he hadn’t be forthcoming about taking Malfoy.
Ever since their discussion several nights ago, Dakin hadn’t been acting the same to Harry. If anything, the older wizard had become overbearing. Harry was starting to lose his temper with it all. Surrounded by invasive wizards was starting to become a real problem.
Aside from the obvious dislike for Malfoy, Dakin seemed to have another motive for keeping Harry away from the blonde wizard. Harry wasn’t completely daft. He knew that Dakin felt a sense of ownership with him – similar to a younger brother complex, perhaps?
Regardless, Harry didn’t appreciate others deciding anything for him. He had worked too long, too hard to be his own person. He didn’t need some bloody know-it-alls deciding what was best for him. No matter how much he cared about them.
They drove for about an hour before stopping at a small gas station. The long drive thus far had made him crave something sufficiently cold – and probably with a fair amount of caffeine. Besides the fact that Malfoy chose to watch him the entire hour, Harry was forced to ignore incessant calls from Dakin. Having to finally turn off his phone after the tenth call.
Harry chose a few sodas for them to drink, guessing that Malfoy would never have opted to drink one, but deciding he cared less if the prat complained.
When he got back to the car, Malfoy had his mobile situated against his ear with a rather devilish smirk on his face. Harry was suddenly very afraid of what Malfoy might be saying, no doubt to Dakin. He rushed over to the car and fought with the door to open it. Bloody bastard had locked the door!
Harry knocked insistently on the window. “Malfoy, you bastard, unlock the door!”
Malfoy’s face morphed into mock surprise, pretending that he wasn’t sure how to unlock it before saying something into the phone. Unfortunately for Harry, it was said too low that he could make it out, and he wasn’t capable of lip-reading.
Harry banged on the window a bit harder, probably drawing attention of random bystanders by now. “Open the bloody door.”
Also unfortunately for Harry, his daft arse left his wand next to his seat. He didn’t carry it in fear of losing it. Today’s chosen assemble also left no real place to pocket it. Harry cursed his bad decision making. He was paying dearly for being his own man and now reaped the consequences.
Harry thought for a moment before coming to his senses. The back door had always been screwy. He rounded the car, and with practiced grace and a little bit of prayer to Merlin, he jerked and jostled it until it gave. The door flew open, and Harry crawled inside to wrestle the phone away from Malfoy.
He almost managed it, but Malfoy was much quicker and easily maneuvered the phone away from Harry.
“Bastard,” Harry growled as he tried to push through to the front.
His hips got stuck just as he managed his torso through. Damn tiny cars. Struggling, Harry caught sight of the amused grin on Malfoy’s face. He growled again as the other wizard leaned forwards until their faces were mere inches apart.
“You are quite clumsy, Potter.”
“Shut it,” Harry breathed angrily though his efforts made his voice rather tempered by the fighting against his stuck hips.
Thankfully, it seemed the people who had been initially interested in the argument had lost all interest and returned to what they were doing.
“Need help?”
“Fucking bastard,” Harry growled breathlessly. His pant pocket had caught something in his struggle and now he was effectively stuck. “What the fuck do you think you were doing?!”
“The intimidation you seek is dramatically lessened by your current state of stuck, Potter,” Malfoy managed between chuckles.
Harry lost some of his gusto before he realized he could reach his wand from here. There wasn’t anyone looking—not at the moment anyway—so he could do a bit of magic to get him out of this. As he reached for it, Malfoy took the opportunity to steal it away and hold it just beyond his reach.
“You are a muggle now, Potter. No need for magic to untangle yourself,” Malfoy taunted with a wry grin. He leaned forward with breath heating Harry’s face and eliciting unbidden tremors to run through him. “If you ask nicely, I just might help you.”
Harry let his head drop, breathing out his frustration and anger. “What did you say to Dakin?” he asked deceptively.
Malfoy took the bait, leaning back and crossing his arms defensively. “What the troll wanted to hear. I had forced you against your will to aide my search.”
Harry cursed silently, eyeing his wand against Malfoy’s torso. “And?”
Malfoy eyes watched him intensely. “And…if he interfered, he would live to regret it.”
“What a Malfoy thing to say,” Harry replied, watching as Malfoy’s arms weakened at this reply and without hesitation, took the opportunity to steal back his wand.
He quickly cast the appropriate spells and removed himself from the car. Taking care that no one was watching, he retrieved his items, keys, and phone before heading towards the gas station once more.
“Potter,” Malfoy called out, but Harry didn’t turn around. “Potter! Where do you think you are going?”
“Go ahead and tell everyone where I am,” Harry replied angrily before heading towards the small assortment of shops behind the station. “I won’t help you anymore. Not if you are threatening people I care about. The deal is off.”
Harry left Malfoy there in the car at the gas station and didn't even cast a singular glance backwards.
TBC…
Sorry about the cliffy. Since I’ve been getting the chapters out so quickly, I wanted to give something for you to look forward to. I really appreciate your kind reviews. Realistically, Draco and Harry hated each other for years. Years, peeps. That kind of animosity is hard to overcome. So what’s next for our tenacious Gryffindor hero? Until next time!
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Before You