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What Do You Want From Me?	By : CalyB Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 2127 -:- 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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A/N: God I haven�t done one of these in ages. I�ve had this sitting around for a while and finally decided to put it up. It was inspired by Sneaker Pimps �Blacksheep� but it�s basically pointless I think. Most of it�s pretty cliché but ehh, who cares? It�s unbeta-ed at the moment, since I have no beta at the moment, so I'm sure it's full of all kinds of mistakes. If anyone�s interesting in doing so, feel free to mail me. It�s slash of course, if that�s not your bag, I suggest you become friendly with the back button right about now.

Chasing The Dragon: For anyone wondering about this� so am I. I�ve gotten most of the next chapter written and have had it written for months. I seem to have lost sight of where it was going so� I�ve no idea how to proceed with it. It will be finished though, I refuse to leave it incomplete but I�m just not sure when. And if you�re interested in updates or would like to read my insane rambling for some odd reason, just check out my live journal, link�s on my author page.
Disclaimer: I don�t think anyone would believe these characters were mine, even if I said they were but just in case, they aren�t. Please don�t sue me. It�d be a waste of everyone�s time anyway.
On With The Show
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Christ, it�s fucking freezing. I always forget how unbearably cold it can be this time of year. Taking the nightly route to my flat, I pull my jacket tighter around myself� desperately trying to keep out the unforgiving December air. Barely avoiding a collision with yet another homeless drunk, I quicken my pace� careful to avoid all the broken bottles and other various pieces of garbage. I make a mental note to find better accommodations.
Finally arriving at my destination, I notice with distaste that the landlord has yet to fix the broken front door, leaving the dilapidated building open to anyone who�d dare enter. I guess I need to phone him again tomorrow. I�d rather not have some random insane muggle kill me in my sleep.
Once inside the flat, I take a moment to survey the place, I am still not quite used to it. It�s not much, just a room really. A tiny kitchen with an even smaller bathroom and a worn mattress in the corner that serves as the bedroom. Not exactly the regal monstrosity that was Malfoy Manor� but it�s mine. And that�s all I care about.
It�s hard to believe I�ve been here for almost five years now and this is all I have to show for it. But trying to live in a world you technically do not even exist in, makes it quite difficult to earn a living. How was I supposed to know muggles rely on things like numbers, and photos and birthdays to identify who they are? I suppose I could have magically falsified the documents somehow but in all honesty� I just didn�t know how. I never would have imagined I would have a use for such magic. In the Wizarding world you are easily identified by name and in most cases physical traits associated to a family. I never had to prove who I was before.
This made it very difficult to work for what I needed to survive. Add that to my lack of any kind of basic skills and I found myself in quite the predicament. I�d lived in the Wizarding world my entire life; I didn�t know how to use a till or clean or anything� a wizard is the only thing I knew how to be. For a short time I lived in a park I slept on a bench. Imagine that, a Malfoy too poor to afford his own home� how tragic.
In retrospect, probably could have earned quite a nice living� in the company of older men that is. Had several offers in fact. I always turned them down of course, with little or no trouble from those offering. Well, except that first time. He wasn�t so used to rejection apparently. I had been in the muggle word for a little more than a month, living in that park when he happened by one day, mistook me for a homeless rent boy and offered to put me up for the night. Being naïve to the ways of this world at that time, I accepted his offer instantly. I hadn�t eaten in days and it was cold out, so I followed him to his flat. I didn�t sense any danger and being that I had learned more ways to incapacitate or kill a man by the time I was eleven than most people learn in a lifetime, I felt no reason to be afraid. I was wrong. He was very unhappy with my disinterest in paying back his kindness with my nakedness. Things did not go well for me that night. He was much larger and stronger but unfortunately for him, he was still just a muggle. And I happened to know the Avada Kadavera works extremely well, no matter how big or strong you are. Draco Malfoy is no one�s whore.
After that, I had no idea what to do. I�d taken what little money I could find (Slytherins are known for turning any situation to their advantage and as far as I was concerned I did the world a favor and was just taking what was owed to me.) but it didn�t last long and before I knew it� I was right back on that bench. That is until Abby found me. She was the first person to ever be kind to me. Not because of my name or out of fear but because she wanted to. She took pity on me and let me move into her little house and work in her bookshop until I �got back on my feet�. She didn�t seem to care that I had no identity; she just wanted to help, so I let her. Pride be damned. I lived with her just long enough to afford a place of my own, shitty thing that it is. But I still work in that bookshop and visit her on occasion.
I also came to discover most muggles do not care who you are or where you came from as long as you have the resources to pay them. Especially in the forgotten wasteland of muggle culture I call home. But it�s cheap, close to the bookshop and at least no one�s found me yet� if anyone�s even looking. I�m sure there are a few who�d get a good laugh out of it. To see the once great Malfoy heir, pride of Slytherin, living like a common house elf� fucking hysterical. But this is the choice I made, and I do not regret it. I refuse to regret it.
Shaking my thoughts from the past, I make my way over to the small refrigerator, opening the door to review its contents. With my limited options of week old milk, stale bread, cheese (with something growing on it) and leftover takeout, the decision isn�t hard. After grabbing some chop sticks, I head over to the small chair in my �living room� and settle in for a night in front of the telly� again.
Realizing that this seems rather pathetic, I placate myself with the thought that I could go out if I wanted to. It�s not like I don�t have men and women practically breaking down my door wanting to shag me. But they just don�t interest me quite frankly. I�ve a very clear image in my mind of what my �perfect partner� is and refuse to settle for anything less.
I did my fair share of �slutting it around� when I first came to the muggle world. At first I did it, even though I loathe to admit it� because I was lonely. The first six months I was here I didn�t make a single friend or acquaintance. Except for Abby of course, but even as interesting as I found her, an elderly women with a seemingly endless amount of stories can only hold a teenage boys interest for so long. But unfortunatly, no one else would even talk to me. Apparently muggles are not fond of being ordered about like house elves or being spoken down to. Who knew? So, I started keeping my mouth shut and to my surprise� people wanted to talk to me. Really they just wanted to fuck me and didn�t give a damn about what I had to say but it was better than nothing.
However, I grew tired of this once I discovered that people have a tendency to fall in love with you and expect you to feel the same way. What is that about exactly? Who�s brilliant idea was it to make those rules?
Growing weary of self-reflection and remembering that it�s my turn to open the shop tomorrow; I decide to call it a night. After depositing my trash in it�s proper place and making sure everything�s turned off - I slip into bed and quickly fall asleep.
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Waking up is the worst part of my day. I think I hate getting up early more than anything in the world, well� almost anything. There are a few things higher on the hate scale but it�s defiantly at the top of the list. I am a huge fan of sleeping in but today that just isn�t possible. It is my turn to open and I wouldn�t dare neglect my responsibilities.
Finally taking the initiative to roll out of bed, I take a quick shower and am out the door in no time. The walk to work is a quiet one, since hardly any normal person is awake at this hour. Why Abby insists on opening at the crack of dawn I will never understand. Just because she gets up ass early in the morning� doesn�t mean everyone else does.
Once arriving at my target location, I unlock the door, picking up the post that was left on the ground in the process and enter. No matter how much time I spend in here, I will never get over the fact it smells like the Hogwarts Library. The moment I enter, it�s like I�m transported back in time. It smells of old leather and dust and� everything I once held sacred.
Pulling myself once again from thoughts of a life that just isn�t mine anymore, I begin the daily ritual of opening. I turn on the lights and lay the post on the counter; I may read it later if something catches my interest. I then go to the back to make a pot of coffee. I used to hate the stuff but grew to love it, once I discovered it�s very good at keeping you awake. After it�s finished, I fix myself a cup and go back out front to continue setting up. In reality all �setting up� is, is turning on the lights and making a pot of coffee. After that, I mostly sit around and read all day or if we have a shipment coming, I put the books away and go back to sitting around� waiting for someone to actually come in a buy something.
On my way up to the front I notice some books out of place, so I sit my coffee down and set to the mundane task of putting them into there proper spot. I�m still in the back when I hear the bell ring, signaling someone coming in.
�Hello?�
�I�m in the back. I�ll be with you in a moment.�
�Take your time. I�m in no rush.�
I was planning on it but thank you for your permission.
I notice something vaguely familiar about that voice but I pay it no attention. Finishing the task at hand, I grab my coffee and go up front to help the man. He�s standing by the window with his back to me but I don�t need to see his face to know who he is. If I were blind I would still recognize him. I drop the cup.
Harry Potter.
I am frozen to the spot. How did he find me? Maybe he didn�t, maybe this is just a weird coincidence and I can sneak out the back before he-
�It wouldn�t do you any good. I warded the building before I came in. Wouldn�t want you running away again, now would I?�
Damn damn damn, I forgot he could do that.
�Seems you forgot a lot of things.�
He still has his back to me but I know him enough to see the look of distain on his face� without actually seeing it.
�What are you doing here Potter?�
He turns to face me and I notice with mild interest that he�s changed a bit. Not so much that anyone who didn�t really know him would notice but he�s� different, somehow. His expression is guarded and his eyes are almost� empty. This is not the boy I knew, not the boy I -
�Not the boy you what?�
�Stop that! What are you doing here?�
He smiles at that and it is not a happy smile. It�s the smile a cat gives a mouse� before biting its head off.
�What do you think?�
�What do you want?�
�An explanation�
�I don�t owe you anything.�
Before I have time to blink, I have my back pressed against a bookshelf, my arms pinned above my head and an obviously not so happy Harry Potter�s face inches from mine.
�You owe me everything.�
�Come to collect then?�
I flinch as he shoves me further into the bookshelf. It�s not the most comfortable of positions, books and shelves alike are digging into my back and I am fairly certain there is a copy of �As you like it� dangerously close to actually being in my ass. I�m sure under different circumstances I would of found that quite hilarious.
I feel his breath against my ear as he leans down to hiss at me.
�I don�t think you�re in any position to be making jokes Draco. Do you?�
I gulp audibly and immediately curse my weakness, while simultaneously trying to forget my uncontrollable arousal. Unfortunately it appears I am not the only one who�s noticed it, then again maybe I am and some stupid bastard was just reading my mind again. What do you think Potter?
�Cute Draco but no I didn�t need to read your mind to feel (He punctuates �feel� by reaching between us and grabbing my hateful attention seeking erection.) you�re enjoying this. Still like it rough I see.�
�First of all, I wasn�t the only one who had a thing for rough play. Second, you can take your hand off my cock now and third just tell me what the fuck you want and be done with it.�
I can see his jaw tighten and immediately regret that entire statement. I want him to leave, not to kill me. Although I highly doubt he *would* but anything�s possible and if he was angry before he�s fucking pissed now. I can feel his magic in the air and where Harry Potter is concerned that is never a good sign. Nevertheless, he removes his hand from places hands shouldn�t be in public but regrettably does not relinquish his hold on my wrist.
�I told you what I want Draco and I�m not leaving here without it.�
�And I told you that I didn�t owe you anything.�
�Which is exactly what got you into the position you�re in now. So, this can go one of two ways Draco my love, I can let you go and we can talk about this quietly or I can just apperate us into the Ministry right now and you can explain everything to them.�
Like I have a choice.
�When did you become such a bastard Harry?�
�I�d say about five years ago. Someone fucked me over and well� I couldn�t quite get passed it.�
�Fine, let me go and I�ll tell you whatever you want.�
�All right but if you even *think* about playing me Draco� you will be sorry.�
I�m already sorry.
�Fine.�
He releases his hold on me and I immediately begin to rub my wrists - which, I�ve no doubt will be bruised in the morning.
�Thanks a lot. Did you have to leave marks?�
�You used to like it.�
�That was a long time ago and if I remember correctly *you* had a thing for spanking but you don�t see me bending you over my knee now do you? Besides that�s not what you wanted to talk about is it?�
�No.�
�What do you want to know?�
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What Do You Want From Me?