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 Five: Unbidden Dreaming
*
Harry watched with unabated fascination as Malfoy closed in on him, almost predatory in his movement. Blue-gray eyes flowed over him. Taking every sharp flutter of his chest as his breathing grew ragged. Every languid swipe of Harry’s tongue when his lips grew dry with the rapid, shallow breathing. Every uncomfortable fidget against the wall Harry now found himself pinned.
Malfoy studied him. Devoured him wholly with his eyes. And Harry was frozen, unable to escape the lustful gaze of the other.
When he glanced towards the door just feet from them, Malfoy moved at him like a striking snake, catching hold of his wrists and pinning them roughly above his head – immobilizing him.
Harry gasped with surprise, finding his body now sandwiched between a hard wall and a firm, muscular body. His lower half twitched with interest as he tested his new imprisonment.
Hot wisps of breaths fell over the side of his face as he attempted to turn away from the lust-shadowed eyes now regarding him silently.
“What are you doing, Malfoy?” Harry demanded breathlessly, voice much weaker than he had intended.
Malfoy’s silky voice flowed into his ears like the sultriest melody. “What would you like for me to do, Harry?” His forename startled him enough to jerk his eyes back to the other wizard in perplexity. “Six years,” the voice whispered, lips ghosting over his own tantalizingly, flirting with him in a way that made his body shudder in anticipation.
“Six years?” he questioned. Why did that sound so familiar?
“I wonder how you managed this long. If you ask nicely, I just might help you,” Malfoy whispered against his lips, eliciting sparks of electricity where they touched.
That sounded familiar too. Harry’s brained worked as he attempted to comprehend the familiarity of what Malfoy was saying. However, the body against his thrust into him, driving a knee between his slightly agape thighs and prying them open. His lower half responded in a jerking motion as his growing erection was swiped expertly with that knee.
Harry’s head lolled backwards, a gasp escaping his lips as pleasure washed through him like a hot current.
Merlin.
“There is no shame in a healthy sex drive, Harry,” Malfoy cooed as the knee continued to move against his hardening prick. The subtle pull of déjà vu continued to plague Harry despite the flows of pleasure now washing over him in continuous waves.
Why did this all feel so familiar?
“…you’ve said this,” Harry rasped as pleasure tainted his voice. “You’ve said this all before.”
Malfoy’s eyes darkened almost impossibly. “Have I?” the other wizard mused as he wrenched Harry’s trousers opened roughly. “I think you must be intoxicated by the pleasure, Harry. You are speaking nonsense.”
No. He couldn’t be. It was all familiar.
Harry desperately sought the reason for this déjà vu like feeling, but Malfoy was stripping him so fiercely that the blonde wizard had even torn through his shirt, exposing the honeyed flesh beneath. Hands splayed over his skin, scraping and kneading it, deriving short gasps of ecstasy from Harry’s lips.
It felt too good. His brained was becoming addled and incoherent as fingers rolled his perked nipples, twisting them and sending shocking sparks to spider out over his flesh. Harry bit back a groan. The hands continued their dizzying pace down his torso, but the subtle pull of his conscious thought slipped between the breaks in pleasure.
This didn’t make sense. Why was he here? With Malfoy of all people?
The image of a car jumped into his vision. He left Malfoy there.
Harry jolted, his eyes suddenly open and staring at his bedroom ceiling. His body hummed with post-orgasmic bliss, and by the wetness in his trousers, he knew he had come. Groaning angrily, Harry threw the sheets from him and headed towards the bathroom. It was still early in the morning—three to be exact—as he stumbled towards the bathroom for the fourth time that week.
After leaving Malfoy in Galway—with his car—Harry had managed a ride from an infuriated Dakin and had come home later that day. It had been an entire week since then. Malfoy had never returned to his home, surely because he was in the process of speaking to the whereabouts of the savior of the wizarding world.
Despite the overwhelming bitterness he felt, Harry still found he missed the blonde’s presence in his home. Every night he dreamed about them together. And every night he woke, soiled from his dream and in need of a shower.
He cursed his temper. Cursed these feelings that ran through him, coating every part of him and never fading. However, what was done was done. Little could change it now.
Over the last few days, he had seen an attorney to sort through the ownership of the business. Since he was more than likely going to be forced to return to the world he had left behind, he didn’t want Dakin to suffer. He was in the midst of transferring the ownership, signing all the necessary paperwork and paying all the necessary fees.
*
Harry boiled the water for his tea like he had all the mornings before it when he heard the harsh knocking at this door. It was still a little early for Dakin to show—he had been catching rides to Sligo for groceries—but he figured that Dakin must just be on point that day.
A gasp left his lips as he opened the door. There stood, impeccably dressed in a midnight-black three-piece suit, Draco Malfoy. Malfoy’s pale hair was tossed in a sort of messy-but-sophisticated way about his face, framing his enchantingly stormy eyes and perfectly molded features. The man was the embodiment of beauty and a feast for the eye.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” he asked still stricken too much with shock to get angry.
Malfoy stood straighter as he regarded Harry with an uncomfortable smile. “I came to apologize.”
Harry’s words fled him, not quite comprehending what Malfoy was saying. “Apologize?”
“I…” Malfoy faltered, fixing the cuff of his shirt and then settling his gaze once more on Harry. “I will not expose you. You have my word. I do not expect anything from you. I only wish that if there is any possibility you might absolve my behavior, even task me as you see fit to amend for my disgracing you…and the troll—I mean, McClain—then I hope you might offer me that chance.”
“You…you mean you haven’t told anyone?”
Malfoy’s face remained impassive. “We have an accordance; however, it was built on unsavory circumstances. The more time I spent with you—loathe as I am to admit it—I became rather regretful of how I forced your assistance and now seek to amend this connection.” Malfoy swallowed visibly. If Harry knew better, he might think the other wizard was nervous. “I hope that you might…assist me not out of duty but…as a favor.”
Yeah, he must be dreaming. This was one odd wet dream though. Very unlike the others.
Harry remained silent as he waited for Malfoy to either pounce on him or pin him to the nearest wall. When nothing happened, his body grew ridged.
“Wait,” he said, still slightly flabbergasted. “You mean, this isn’t some dream? You’re really saying this?”
Malfoy looked utterly bewildered. “Dream? Why in Merlin’s name would this be a dream, Potter?”
He called him Potter. Harry’s eyes widened impossibly. Dream Malfoy never called him Potter!
“So you want to be friends?”
Malfoy’s face morphed with derision at the word. “I suppose that is one way of putting it; however much it lacks refinement. In simple terms, yes. I seek to know you better, Potter.”
“Bloody hell,” Harry breathed with a small smile. As if a slate had been wiped clean, Malfoy had erased almost all of his anger with just the mere idea. “Okay then. I’ll help.”
Malfoy’s face brightened, causing Harry a momentary lapse in coherent thought. It was gorgeous when Draco Malfoy smiled—truly smiled. Harry nearly pinched himself, but instead, stuck out his hand.
“Nice to meet you,” he stated with a wry grin. “I’m Harry Potter.”
Malfoy rolled his eyes—somehow making the usually childish behavior elegant—before firmly taking Harry’s hand. “Draco Malfoy.”
*
Somehow, the two had managed to come to an arrangement. Malfoy was going to become rather busy in the next few weeks, so in the meantime, he would stay with Harry so that they could seek out the book. They still had yet to follow the lead in Galway, so that was first on their list.
Harry smiled as Malfoy ate his plate of egg and potato hash as elegantly as one could when they enjoyed the food. Malfoy had requested it as soon as they had come inside. Since Harry was already in the midst of getting ready to cook breakfast, he had obliged the request – quite liking this imploring Malfoy.
“Your motor vehicle,” Malfoy said as he finished his food, wiping delicately at his mouth.
Harry sighed at the display. Malfoy really needed to lighten up. “My car?” he urged when Malfoy said nothing further.
“I have returned it,” Malfoy continued with a small smirk. “With a few upgrades.” There was a mischievous glint to the blonde’s eyes, and it made Harry suddenly very frightened of these upgrades.
Harry’s eyebrow rose a fraction in the midst of his arms crossing. “Upgrades?”
“Living amongst muggles does not mean you must suffer their lifestyle, Potter,” Malfoy stated reproachfully. “I added some much needed functions.”
“I’m not sure if I should be thankful or frightened,” Harry teased.
“Consider it one of the many benefits of your partnership with me,” Malfoy proclaimed self-importantly.
Harry rolled his eyes but smiled all the same. Malfoy was still Malfoy—friendship or not.
“Well, I look forward to seeing what you think are ‘much needed functions’ for my car,” Harry stated pointedly before looking over at the clock. “However, it’s time for me to head to the shop. I’m sure you’ll manage while I’m gone.”
Malfoy’s face tightened before he looked at Harry imploringly. Bollocks. Harry knew that look, and that look meant that he was going to have to explain all of this to Dakin sooner rather than later. Shite. Harry groaned before nodding at the unvoiced question.
“Come along then,” he said in resignation. “I won’t intervene if you and Dakin get into it.”
“That troll hardly scares me, Potter,” Malfoy retorted with disdain.
Harry shook his head as he pulled on his coat. “That may be so, Malfoy, but that troll is a dear friend; and if you are intent on having this friendship with me, you will learn to, in the very least, tolerate him. And never call him a troll.”
Malfoy’s nose drew up in disgust, but his body yielded. That was the universal Malfoy sign for “I will, but I won’t like it.”
When Malfoy made for the car, Harry shook his head and set off on a steady gait. Malfoy looked ready to complain, but instead fell in step with Harry as they headed towards the bookshop.
Harry was rather worried about the unavoidable meeting of Malfoy and Dakin. He still wasn’t sure what Malfoy had said to Dakin, but it had been enough to make Dakin red with rage. Harry had never seen the man so angry. Anytime he attempted to find out what Malfoy had said, there was a darkness in Dakin’s features that caused him to retract and converse elsewhere.
While it was inevitable that they meet, Harry was hoping he might explain things to Dakin before forcing Malfoy on him. Malfoy had been cordial and apologetic towards Harry, but he seriously doubted that it would be the same for Dakin. For some reason, those two hated each other with a passion that rivaled Malfoy and Harry’s during Hogwarts.
Just before they reached the shop, a hand firmly wrapped around Harry’s bicep, stalling him from his forward progress.
“I am aware of your relationship with the troll”—Harry tossed him a disapproving glance—“McClain,” Malfoy corrected. “However, I think it wise to distance yourself if only slightly from him.”
Harry shook his head with exasperation. “And for what reason, pray tell, do think that?” His voice had taken on a sarcastic note.
Malfoy hesitated. Harry suddenly felt very wary of the reasoning as he watched the other wizard work through what to say. It was very rare that Malfoy would be at a loss for words—Merlin knows that Malfoy could talk forever—so the mere fact that Malfoy was having trouble was alarming.
“Come on. Out with it,” Harry finally demanded, hands having gone to his hips despite Malfoy’s hold on his arm.
“His intentions towards you are not entirely sincere,” Malfoy offered cryptically. Harry regarded the other wizard with a look. “He has ulterior motives for Merlin’s sake, Potter!”
Harry chuckled. “Ulterior motives?” Harry nearly lost his footing while laughing. Ironically, Dakin had said the very same thing about Malfoy. Seemed that neither one of them had ulterior motives; rather, they had a warped sense of reality. “No, it’s not possible. Dakin, without a doubt, is attracted to women—and women only.”
Malfoy looked on sternly. “Just trust me, Potter. I have never been mistaken when it comes to these observations.” Being the king of seduction, no doubt, Harry mused with a wry grin.
“Sure,” Harry retorted with a knowing smile. “Look, I realize that you and Dakin will never be friends, but I expect at least common decency towards each other. And an apology,” Malfoy looked ready to argue at this, but Harry quickly continued, “I don’t care if you think you were right. Whatever you said to Dakin, it made him livid, and if this relationship between us is going to progress to the realm of friendship, you’ll need to put up with my friends.”
Malfoy looked absolutely revolted with the thought. “That’s purely inhumane, Potter.”
“And that’s another thing. I think if we are attempting to know each other better we should at least start with forenames, don’t you think, Draco?”
There was a small spark in Malfoy’s—no, Draco’s—eyes when Harry said his forename.
Smirking, Malfoy replied smoothly, “Very well, Harry.”
That aside, Harry disentangled himself from the other wizard and headed into the bookshop. Thankfully, Dakin hadn’t gotten there yet. He had managed to ring Dakin earlier and explain he had gotten his car back and wouldn’t need the usual ride to the grocery store. So they agreed to meet at their usual time at the shop.
Dakin had regressed to his slacker ways over the past week when he thought Draco was never to return. He never showed up on time anymore. Harry smiled, thanking Merlin for the small reprieve.
They set to their normal routine of Harry doing everything and Draco doing nothing. Harry sighed as he finally finished the opening duties. As he began to sit with his own book cradled to him—Tuesdays were often his slowest days—Draco finally looked up.
Their eyes met, and it felt electric. All the images from the week came flowing into Harry, causing his cheeks to suddenly feel very hot. Turning away, Harry tried to drown his thoughts in the book he chose. However, he could feel the penetrating gaze of his companion.
When he couldn’t take it any longer, he looked up once more to the blue-gray eyes that regarded him with unmasked interest. “What?”
“Are you not curious as to why I waited an entire week to return?”
Harry thought shortly. “Nope,” he lied as he set his eyes back to the book.
Actually, he was quite interested to find out why Draco had chosen to take an entire week to apologize but damned if he said so.
Draco crossed his arms against his broad chest, regarding Harry with a perplexed face. Perplexity turned quickly to discontent which then flowed right into brooding. Harry did his best to keep the smile from his face as Draco tried desperately to grasp Harry’s lack of interest.
It was rather comical really. Harry sort of felt guilty for dropping Draco down a peg or two with the rejection.
“That is not possible. You must have been concerned,” Draco mumbled to himself.
Poor bloke didn’t take rejection well.
Harry’s guilt finally forced him to end the charade. “Oh, fine!” he grumbled as he glance at the brooding Slytherin. “I may have been the tiniest bit concerned when you didn’t show for a few days. However, I thought you were speaking with reporters, so I was getting my affairs in order to leave.”
This piqued the blonde’s interest. “Your affairs?”
“I was transferring the ownership of the shop to Dakin,” Harry revealed nonchalantly.
Draco watched him with an unreadable expression; however the building storm in the blonde wizard’s eyes caused a series of shudders through Harry’s stiff frame. Why did Draco look so angry? What was he supposed to believe after not seeing the other wizard in over a week?
Despite that, Harry found himself explaining it. “I assumed you had gone to the media and wanted to make sure that Dakin received his father’s shop when I left. I promised Peter that I would keep an eye on him.”
Draco’s eyes darkened further, but anything he might hope to say was cut off by the chiming of the door.
Dakin stormed inside the bookstore, eyes blazing at Draco so fiercely Harry worried they may just set fire to the Slytherin. Shooting out with very little thought, Harry immediately obstructed Dakin’s path. The other man growled imperceptibly but stalled.
“He bloody well be here to collect some things he left behind,” Dakin seethed through clenched jaws.
Harry heard the skirting of the chairs legs as Draco stood behind him, settling a hand on his shoulder and coming to stand beside him. Harry pressed hands into Dakin as he came forward. This wasn’t going well at all. The air around them was heavy with the building wrath. It was only a matter of time before he was no longer able to hold the others at bay.
“I came to apologize,” Draco stated, surprising both of them—Dakin probably the most.
The older wizard seemed less than willing to believe anything that Draco spouted but had ceased moving forward. Harry dropped his hands, breathing a sigh of relief as Draco continued to put light pressure on his shoulder.
“While I may not enjoy your company,” Draco continued in an astoundingly calm voice, “Harry does. I will venture to be acquiescent towards you, if only just for his sake. Though there is little I regret saying to you,” he voiced with superiority that caused Dakin’s body to grow taut with rage, “I do believe it was done in a way that was rather disrespectful and will venture in the future not to do so.”
Well, that was very…Draco-like, but it was enough for Harry. The true test was if that would suffice for Dakin. He watched his friend as the tautness of his body remained intact. He implored his friend with his eyes, but Dakin’s were fixed on the hand still pressed to his shoulder.
After what could’ve been years by the way Harry felt, Dakin sighed with resignation. Harry knew it by the slow fall of the other man’s shoulders, and the softening around his eyes. Dakin was giving up—at least for the moment. Harry wanted to cry out in victory but settled for smiling happily.
While Dakin never said anything, it was clear he would back off some; so Harry offered him the only sense of reprieve he could. “You can head home. I’ll probably be closing today a bit early, so I can help with finding the book.”
Dakin questioned him with a small look. However, his eyes then turned towards Draco who had once more taken his seat. After a severe gaze that was matched by the Slytherin, he turned once more towards Harry. “Don’t make me regret letting him stay.”
Without another word, Dakin left the shop and headed towards his car. The peel out was so loud it caused Harry’s body to jolt. It was clear that the accord between Dakin and Draco was purely for his sake, but he was grateful that it hadn’t turned violent.
“This is why I do not socialize with trolls,” Draco proclaimed sardonically.
“Oh, shut it.”
*
They planned to head to Galway that weekend; so over the next few days, Harry gathered as much information as he could, but it was still rather difficult to render anything from his efforts. He was almost inclined to ask about why Draco required this particular potion, but no doubt, the Ministry had a hand in it.
Harry threw another log into the fire, causing sparks of flame to erupt and a billowing of pungent smoke to explode from the hearth. The flames wrapped around the log, charring it and lapping at it as if they were alive and thirsty.
Draco sat on the sofa, leg crossed over and book cradled in one hand. The purely elegant posture was nearly lost as he delved deeper into his story. It had turned out that Draco quite liked the Lord of the Rings series and was now well into the second novel.
Harry took a seat on the floor, ignoring the way the wood bit into his rather unpadded bum. He had avoided any close proximity with Draco mainly because he didn’t want to be tempted. For now, they had a cordial relationship in which most of their arguments were out of jest. Harry refused to ruin that with his confused emotions.
He still clearly remembered how quick Draco was to reject the very idea of being even somewhat attracted to Harry. That rejection resounded in him like a beating drum, pounding through his ears along with his heart to remind him that all of these growing feelings were no doubt unrequited.
His gaze became lazy as he watched the flames in silence, hearing only the soft slide of paper as Draco read through his novel. This calm that they had developed together was rather complacent. He would have never imagined that he would feel calm—and happy for that matter—around Draco Malfoy. But he was. He truly was.
He let his head fall back against the cushion open on the sofa. His eyes fluttered helplessly against the lull of sleep, but he was just too relaxed. Before he knew it, he had already succumbed to it.
*
It felt like a warm breeze, flowing and bathing over his face like the soft caress of a lover. He smiled as the warmth continued to bathe him in comfort. His lips felt chapped and dry, so he licked them. The moisture rejuvenated them long enough for something soft but oddly firm to press almost like a whisper against them. Harry tested the feeling, moving his head to chase after the sensation as it retreated.
The feeling came again before retreating once more, but not for long. Another touch but firmer against his lips. The feeling was familiar; but when it felt like he might just recognize it, it disappeared.
He wanted to chase the feeling—discover its meaning—but the slow embrace of darkness pulled him back into a deep slumber.
*
Harry startled awake, gazing up into the familiar ceiling. Looking around, Harry noticed that he was now in his bedroom. Joggling his memory, he desperately sought out how it came to be. He had fallen asleep in the living room. Did that mean Draco brought him in here?
Harry clamored out of his bed, noting that it was still the middle of the night, before heading towards the living room as silently as he could. Draco was asleep on the transformed sofa, eye lashes painted against angular cheek bones the color of snow.
While Draco was no doubt what would be referred to as beautiful, there was a definite masculinity in his face and body that caused a small hitch in Harry’s breathing. Broad shoulders, barely concealed by the tight fitting black shirt he wore. It had surprised Harry to see Draco so…comfortably dressed. He half expected the other man to wear expensive silk pajamas, but it seemed even Draco chose comfort over chic when it came to sleep.
Draco had kicked most of the duvet from himself, exposing a sliver of abdomen where his shirt had ridden up. It was the same definition Harry had seen when he chose to parade half-naked through Harry’s home that first week.
Harry truly envied the muscular tone to the Slytherin’s body. While his light complexion and lithe frame were not normally associated with strength, it was evident that Draco toned his body to perfection and strength despite appearances.
Harry wanted to touch it. Explore it. Map out every contour and seek out any sort of imperfection that Draco might harbor. At this moment, Draco’s body was flawless—irritatingly so.
The other wizard shifted, causing Harry to stiffen in surprise. Thankfully, it was merely done in the blonde wizard’s sleep, but it had been warning enough. Harry shouldn’t be standing here ogling Draco. He berated himself as he headed to the bathroom and attempted to calm his now very aroused body.
*
Harry’s finger ran over his lips as he finished cooking their breakfast. If only he could remember the dream he had the night before. It felt like there was something important he was forgetting by not remembering the dream.
He idly played with his chapped lips as if that very action might bring it all to mind. It didn’t. He couldn’t remember. It felt important though.
Sighing, Harry plated the food and headed over to the table where Draco waited impatiently. Harry set the plate down before the blonde wizard, momentarily gazing at the soft, plump lips of his companion and idling wondering if they were as delicious as they looked.
Bloody hell. He was frustrated. He was also very much a virgin, so all knowledge of what came after sloppy adolescent kisses was beyond him.
Deciding that thinking on such things would only spell trouble for the rest of the day. They were once more attempting to head to Galway. He was sure that if he spent all morning fantasizing about Draco’s body and lips—wondering how and what Draco did to his partners—he was sure to get them into an accident.
It was time to focus on the task at hand and not stray. He wasn’t some bloody adolescent, fixing on his next opportunity to get shagged. He was an adult now.
Harry glanced once more at Draco, caught again by the small amount of moisture collection on the other wizard’s lips. Shite. This was going to be a long couple of days.
TBC…
Hello everyone! Okay, so finally…we’re getting somewhere! I really, really live for your guys' reviews. You made me so happy with your comments. When you write these just so others can enjoy, it really warms the heart to see so many of you enjoying it. So thank you. Until next time!
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Before You