Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Before You	By : VSBree Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 6293 -:- 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
- 1
- 2
Summary: After the war, Harry disappeared from the wizarding world. Aside from a select few, no one knew where he could possibly be until the most unlikely wizard stumbles upon him out on business.
Pairing: Draco/Harry
Rating: M
Before You
*
Chapter One: Exchanging Favors
It had been several years since Voldemort had fallen. Though the world had been affected greatly by his coming and going, time was slowly healing the wounds his rebirth had created. However, after his falling, the absence of the savior was cause of alarm. Some assumed him dead. Others, they believed he had become lost to never be found again. In the end, it was believed that Harry Potter, the-Boy-Who-Lived, was no more.
It was better that way.
Harry adjusted a few books in their shelving. The early morning sun burst with colorful rays through the window panes of the little old bookshop he now owned in this small town near Sligo, Ireland.
After the war, many of those that knew him knew that Harry wished for nothing but the simple life and went to great lengths to help him escape the Wizarding World. Only a select few knew his whereabouts, but of those were his closest most cherished loved ones.
Here, Harry was just a simple bookshop owner. There were no magic users in town, and he had long since used his magic for anything other than cleaning his bedroom – or the dishes since he despised doing them.
Harry had retained some of his previous appearance, save the glasses and long mangled mess of hair. He kept it short, styled and exposing his scar. Here, his scar was just that – a scar. No one really gave it much mind. His gem-like emerald eyes made him fit well into this world of green. Ireland was well-known for their red or dark brown hair and eclipsing gem-like colored eyes. He hardly seemed noticeable here.
He was still short. Despite his prayers he might gain some height after Hogwarts. It was six years since he had left that world and he was still just barely over five-foot six.
Hogwarts. It had been a memory not long in the making, but he still missed his first home. He missed those that he had left behind. However, he had never prepared for living through the war. When he did, he was suddenly gifted with a freedom he had never known his entire life.
Hermione and the Weasleys went to great lengths to get him away from the fame that was sure to follow and give him his one wish: to be free to live his life.
He could clearly remember the way Molly had smiled at him, eyes brimming clear jewel-like tears.
“You need to live a life that you want, Harry. This world will be fine without you. Go live the life you want. Be happy.”
Her words echoed through him every morning that he woke up to his freedom. While they had stayed in touch, he hadn’t seen anyone in quite some time. However, it was that reality that made him thankful for what he lived every day here. The simple life. The normal life. A life without complication or demand. His life.
“Fine morning, isn’t it, Harry?” Dakin called out as he entered the shop with a chime. “Blasted teenagers,” he grumbled as he wiped away some mud from his coat.
Dakin was about twenty years his senior, but he looked very young and acted it all the same. Dark auburn locks a horrid mess above his strong face helped to mask his age. Blue eyes the color of the sky and a build Harry was truly envious of also concealed his true age. Standing at six-foot three-inches wrapped in unnatural muscle tone the man was glorious though Harry would never say so out loud. Dakin was unbelievably conceited and didn’t need the ego boost.
The morning mist was stuck to bits of his hair and shined gloriously as he walked in and warmed his hands from the cold.
“Morning,” he called out as he came to greet the older man. “You look like you were in the pub ‘til morning again.”
The blue-eyed man smiled wolfishly. “Aye. It was a great night of harrowing tales!”
“Right,” Harry returned with a small grin. “Harrowing you say? You mean where you managed not to kill yourself on your way to Scotland?”
“Yeah, that,” the man agreed with a small jerk of his head. “Those were great adventures.”
“Sure,” Harry agreed with a small shake of his head.
Dakin pouted childishly. “They were! I could’ve died, I tell you.”
“Two miles from the city?” Harry retorted with a chuckle. “Doubtful.”
Dakin ignored him as he sorted his things near the till and then proceeded to kick up his shoes and grab his usual paper to read.
“Dakin,” Harry started but the older man ignored him. Deciding it wasn’t worth the effort to berate the older man, he merely began to organize a few more books into the shelves.
The chiming of the door alerted Harry to the customer which was shortly followed by Dakin’s low greeting. “Ah, an outsider,” Dakin acknowledged which peaked Harry’s interest.
As he was behind several bookshelves, he couldn’t quite see who had come in. Harry moved to see who this newcomer might be.
“I’ve come simply to look around during my stay,” the deeply silky voice responded sharply. The voice sounded oddly familiar. It was a similar accent to his own so that must be why Dakin thought he was an outsider.
“Well you’re free to do so, stranger,” Dakin replied petulantly. Harry groaned with frustration. Why he thought Dakin was a good match with the front was beyond him. The older man lacked manners and grace.
Deciding that the stranger should receive the best hospitality his bookshop had to offer, Harry came out from behind the bookcases to greet the guest. However, his greeting got stuck in his throat as the person came into view and nearly had him fleeing.
The tall wizard was recognizable as he still carried the steel-eyed gaze the color of a stormy sea and the arrogance of the rich in his every glance. Now towering over Harry, Draco Malfoy was the embodiment of his late father. He stood, nearly as tall as Dakin and nearly as toned though he appeared rather more delicately muscled than his brutish employee.
He was dressed in a three-piece black suit that only helped to make him stand out rather than mask him. Soft, pale skin probably silky to the touch that joined his equally light, silky hair that came to his chin and was elegantly styled to match his upscale appearance. It was truly an appearance fitting for this rich prat.
It was no doubt his archrival from his years at Hogwarts.
Oh shite.
Harry had no where he could possibly run. Not that he would. He was a Gryffindor mind you, and Malfoy hardly scared him. No. It was the fear of discovery. Surely, Malfoy would jump on the leverage he would gain from knowing Harry’s whereabouts, and Harry’s simple existence would disappear.
He bit his lip as those blue-gray eyes regarded him at first with interest and then with perplexity. Seems Malfoy wasn’t as sharp as he portrayed himself. Then came recognition, and Harry audibly cursed as a result.
“This is where you were hiding then,” the taller wizard stated with clear superiority, ignoring the bemusement of the other man in the room. “Marvelous that I would find the great savior of the world hiding in some little bookshop. The Daily Prophet will have a field day should they get ahold of the savior’s location and that he is not, in fact, dead as presumed by the masses.”
“Harry?” Dakin questioned. He was standing now, his body coiled as if ready to strike at any moment. Clearly, the tone in Malfoy’s voice was making him uneasy.
“Malfoy,” Harry greeted, assuring Dakin he was fine with a small smile. “I think this conversation is better had in private, don’t you?”
Malfoy’s eyebrow rose slightly before he turned towards the large man at the till. “Ah. Yes, you are quite correct. Shall we?”
“Dakin,” Harry called out to the other man. “Can you watch the shop for a bit? I won’t be long.”
The older man looked uneasy at the request but nodded all the same. Harry led Malfoy out of the shop and down the road to where his little house stood amongst fields of swaying grass. Malfoy was hardly dressed for the small town. It had made him wonder, but he had bigger worries to attend to now that he led the one person who could destroy all of his happiness into his small home.
*
Malfoy sat in the small wooden chair, poised and mannered as if years of etiquette would not allow him such a disgrace even in the coziest of settings. It ironically made Harry want to laugh. Years after the war, he lost some of his hatred for this man now sitting unfittingly in his small, lightly decorated home.
It was clear that Malfoy had just as much decision in his upbringing as Harry did and that small understanding made Harry less than hostile towards Malfoy as he handed him a cup of earl gray tea. He noted that Malfoy put only the smallest amount of milk and sugar in it.
“Why are you here?” Harry asked, getting straight to the point.
Malfoy seemed affronted by the question but answered all the same: “Not that it is any of your business, Potter, but I had business with some associates in Sligo.”
“Why my bookshop though? It’s not exactly in town,” Harry asked, sipping gingerly at his own tea. He was still rather guarded, but Malfoy had come here, despite knowing he could easily alert the media of Harry. That had to be something, didn’t it?
Malfoy watched him, as if gauging whether or not to answer. “I enjoy books, Potter. Your bookstore was spoken of in high regard by the muggles, and I was simply curious. I did find quite the interesting commodity, however. Who would have ever guessed Harry Potter would be living a muggle life?”
“Who cares,” Harry replied angrily. “I did what they wanted. They don’t need me anymore. Shouldn’t it be my decision what I do with my life now?” He fisted his hand against his thigh before releasing it and blowing out a sigh. “Now that you know. What do you plan to do with the information? You’re hardly bribable with your fortune.”
“Well, I would say that there is little I desire that I might not obtain with my fortune,” Malfoy replied with an arrogant smile. Harry cringed physically. Malfoy was still the same old arrogant prat. “However, there is something in which you might do for me. I will keep your whereabouts hidden should you do so.”
“And that would be?” Harry was a little worried by the sparking in Malfoy’s eyes at his inquiry.
Malfoy folded one hand over his other, regarding Harry with a small smirk. “I require a very rare tome for a potion I am concocting. It is suggested that this rare tome is located here, but I am unable to find it as I have no connections or resources to afford me information.”
“You, not having the resources, Malfoy? That is quite the elusive tome you are in search of.”
“Indeed,” Malfoy replied with a sneer.
Harry regarded the other wizard thoughtfully. “If this is a book in regards to a potion, I hardly think that I will be of any use. No muggle will have any idea of its importance.”
“That is where you are mistaken, Potter. This tome I search of has been concealed within a rare muggle book. Its whereabouts are known only by the muggles that have been gifted it through the generations. So, you can understand why you are indeed very useful in such circumstances. I assume that you have been residing here for many years?” Malfoy inclined his head curiously at Harry, eyes taking on a slightly lighter complexion.
It was momentary, but Harry almost found the other wizard attractive with this small gesture. He was luckily able to shake such thoughts away and answer the blonde wizard rather evenly. “Six years, to be exact. I moved here shortly after the war.”
“Very good. I assume you are acquainted well with the muggles living here?”
Harry sighed, knowing that this conversation only sealed his fate. “Yes.”
“Then should you seek information on this tome I am in need of, our accordance will cease to be on the event that you find its location,” Malfoy stated judiciously. “As I am aware that you have little to trust my word on, I will even swear it on an Unbreakable Vow.”
Harry was slightly taken aback by this statement. The mere fact that Malfoy was ready to promise on an Unbreakable Vow was comfort enough that his arch-nemesis had grown up a little – some may say matured. Harry would never voice this out loud, but he had gained a smidgeon of respect for the other wizard.
“Unless you desire to have my ruin what little solace you have in this pathetic example of a home here in this unbearable poverish town,” Malfoy added with another sneer.
Nope. Still disliked him. Greatly.
Harry sighed and nodded in agreement. He had very little choice in the matter. While having any connection with Malfoy was less than agreeable, he was thankful that there had been some way to sway the arrogant wizard to keep his mouth shut. Granted, it would mean he had to suffer Malfoy’s presence until he found what the bloody prat was looking for, but at least he would remain hidden a little longer.
“So what is this book called?”
Malfoy’s eyes sparked again. “The Dead Man’s Boot.”
Harry scoffed lightly before sighing once more. “Very well. I’ll see what I can find out about it.”
“I would be much obliged,” Malfoy replied sarcastically.
When Malfoy made no move to leave, Harry’s jaw tightened. “You can leave now, Malfoy.”
“Oh, I think I might stay,” Malfoy replied coolly.
“Pardon?” Harry’s face tightened along with his fists. “Do you not trust that I will?”
“I know you will, Potter. You have no choice in the matter.”
“Then?”
“I think I might just want to join your little excursion to do so,” Malfoy responded lightly, as if content with the very idea of sharing company with him longer than needed.
“I don’t think so,” Harry all but bit out.
Malfoy’s eyebrow rose at the change in Harry’s tone. If looks could kill, Harry’s surely would have. However, the arrogant prat sat unfazed by the clear threat in Harry’s mannerisms.
“Oh but I do,” Malfoy stated, his tone clearly leaving very little room to argue. “I do not trust you, Potter. I do not trust that you will not seek to steal away in the middle of the night in order to find a new place of solace.”
“But you just said—“
“I am aware of what I said, Potter,” Malfoy interjected sharply. “Since I am unable to put any sort of time constraint on you, I will have to supervise your progress. As this benefits me only to have done in a timely manner, I will aide you however I am capable. However, I do not trust you.”
Harry’s jaw worked in frustration. “Fine, but you won’t be staying here.”
“Yes I will,” Malfoy responded evenly. “With a little magic, your home will be adequately fixed to harbor my particular tastes.”
Harry shot up from his seat and slammed his hands forcefully on the table. “You will not change a bloody thing, do you hear me?!” His calm had been destroyed and now he was panting in rage.
Malfoy remained seated, merely gazing at Harry with heightened amusement. “I hardly feel you have any leverage in order to negotiate my terms, Potter.”
“You bloody snake,” Harry growled hotly. “I may not want to lose what hard earned happiness I have accrued in this life, but I will not play manservant to some arrogant prat hell bent on my misery either. You may think that you have something on me, Malfoy, but be assured, I am plenty powerful enough to make you disappear without a trace and no one be the wiser to it.”
Malfoy’s lips twitched into a small smirk. “Oh, Potter, I never imagined you had it in you to threaten another’s life so easily.”
“For you, Malfoy, I’ll make an exception,” Harry spat angrily though there was a turning in his belly at his own words.
“Very well. I shall leave this uncommonly tiny home as it is,” Malfoy stated with obvious disgust. “However, I will be staying here. How you proceed to accommodate me shall be your decision.”
Harry groaned and slouched back into his chair. He had managed to land himself in the most uncomfortable situation he had been in since the war. Malfoy in his home for Merlin knows how long. This was surely the most miserable he could contrive to be in the circumstances.
Bloody hell.
*
“I hardly think this adequate space for bathing, Potter,” Malfoy stated in disbelief when Harry showed him where the bathroom was.
Malfoy had demanded the facilities for bathing as he needed to “wash the country poverty from himself” and proceeded to have a look of disgust as Harry led him from the kitchen to the bathroom only a short distance away.
“You wanted to stay here,” Harry reminded the tall wizard who dwarfed his already small bathroom. “If you are unsatisfied with what I have to offer, I am sure there is a nice inn we can find for you. Or maybe, you could just, you know, buy some sort of home to do what you will with since you are so rich and all.”
“Very funny, Potter.”
“I thought so too,” Harry said, chuckling despite himself. “You just turn here for hot and this way for cold. If you need a towel, they’re under here.” Harry showed the clearly disgusted wizard where everything was and how it worked. Since he barely used magic, he showed the other wizard the muggle way to shower or bathe.
“How you managed to live in such a way for several years is beyond me, Potter.”
Harry smiled at this. “I guess so.” After leaving a clearly confused wizard to figure out the rest for himself, Harry finally breathed a sigh of relief.
He was still angry at the situation he found himself but moaning about it wasn’t going to do anything for him. It was hardly the worst situation he had ever been in. He had traveled in worse circumstances. Lived with worse people. Malfoy may be an arrogant prat, but he was not nearly as horrid as the Dursleys had been.
Harry sat in silent contemplation for several long minutes before Malfoy resurfaced from the bathroom, his hair melting over his face to his shoulders and body covered only at the waist covered in small pockets of glistening water. Harry nearly fell from his chair.
The chiseled definition of the blonde wizard’s muscle made his mouth nearly water with envy. At least he thought it was envy. He had never felt anything close to what he felt at another’s appearance like this. Sure, Harry had known how his eyes strayed more often to men rather than women, but he assumed it was merely out of envy.
However, there was a stirring in his belly at the appearance of the beautifully handsome wizard. The pale flesh and soft-like features hardly took away from the purely masculine quality that Malfoy exerted. It made Harry fidget in his chair and want to turn his eyes away in embarrassment.
This was bloody Malfoy. His enemy for so many years. The reason he was in this bloody predicament. He couldn’t be feeling desire for this bloody prat. Harry felt the heat suffusing his cheeks as he turned away and cleared his throat.
“Shouldn’t you get dressed?” he stated breathlessly.
Malfoy chuckled darkly. “And miss an opportunity to see the savior of the world blush so prettily? I think not.”
Harry growled in frustration. So it would seem Malfoy was sharp when he needed to be. This was not any sort of comfort to Harry who was now working hard to appear unaffected by the statement and return the cool gaze of the other wizard. However, the pure beauty of Malfoy’s body ensnared him once more speechless.
“I never imagined the-Boy-Who-Lived was a poof,” Malfoy added with amusement in his tone, causing Harry’s insides to boil with rage.
Harry regained his composure and set his angry gaze on the other wizard. “Shut up, Malfoy,” he barked before standing and tossing out a blanket and pillow from one of the cabinets. “You can sleep on the couch since I doubt either the sofa or the bed will suit your particular tastes. Feel free to transform it to your liking.” Harry slipped past the taller wizard and headed to his bedroom, hoping to get rid of half-naked images of Malfoy as he did so.
He closed his door roughly before throwing himself onto the bed.
The only solution was to find out where this book Malfoy needed was. And soon. The sooner he found it, the sooner he could get rid of Malfoy and all these confusing emotions swirling inside him.
He disliked Malfoy. But why was there this heat in his chest every time those cool eyes regarded him?
*
“Potter,” a voice called beyond the void of his dream world.
Harry turned over, curling further into the warmth of his bed before a frustrated sigh followed by the dipping of his bed jerked him out of his half-awake state.
“Potter,” the voice said again before he was turned over and forced to gaze at the wizard he wished he could never see again.
“What do you want Malfoy?” he asked in a gruff voice. “I suppose the couch is not to your liking?” Harry added contemptuously.
“Indeed,” the other wizard stated before imposing himself onto the bed.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Harry growled as Malfoy proceeded to lay down beside him.
His heart started in his chest, and he was finding it increasingly harder to breathe. Malfoy wasn’t wearing a shirt. Harry was once more face-to-face with the beautifully defined pectorals and ribbed abdominal muscles of his nemesis against his will.
“I refuse to sleep on that sad excuse of a sofa, Potter.”
“Fine,” Harry growled as he sat up and threw the comforter from himself. “I’ll go sleep on the sofa.”
Before he could get all the way out of the bed, an arm encircled his waist and jerked him back into the bed. His backside now met the hard and soft of Malfoy’s body eliciting a short gasp of surprise from his lips and a twitch below his belly.
“Stay,” a voice whispered into his ear huskily. “Stay and keep me warm, Potter.”
Harry groaned as hips jerked against his backside and the hard slide of the other wizard’s prick pressed between his arse cheeks. Oh Merlin. Harry panted against the sudden warm coiling in his lower abdomen. His own prick jerked inside the confines of his pajama trousers.
“Feel that do you, Potter? Have you ever had your arse taken by another wizard?” Malfoy questioned him hotly as another thrust against his backside nearly sent him reeling backwards with desire.
Harry grasped the bedsheets tightly to keep himself rooted to reality. At least he hoped he could stay rooted with the action, but his body was starting to react on its own, responding to Malfoy almost wantonly.
“I could have you. Right here, Potter. Right now,” Malfoy whispered huskily, thrusting a bit more persistently into Harry’s backside. “I could take your virgin arse. Claim it unlike any other has before me. I could make you beg for it. Need it. Desire nothing more than for me to sheathe myself within you.” Malfoy continued, causing Harry’s body to continue to respond in less than desirable ways to the promise in the blonde wizard’s words.
Harry’s mouth was gaping, panting with a desperation to fight against his urge to have Malfoy do just that. Take him. Break him. Pleasure him in a way he could never imagine.
“Beg me for it, Potter,” the other wizard urged, hands touching over Harry’s chest, kneading the flesh through the thin material of his pajama top. “Beg me.”
“Please,” Harry moaned.
*
Harry jerked upwards, lower body soiled after the dream – or was it a nightmare – that he never knew he was even capable of having. He had had dreams before. Never had they been so real. Never had he felt so dirty afterwards. Harry rubbed his face with his hands, hoping to rid his mind of the feelings and images.
He had just had his first wet dream in years. Of bloody Malfoy.
Fuck.
*
TBC…
--
This is my first Draco/Harry in a while. Hoping it appeals to some of you. I have never been able to write Harry as a top so if you guys are looking for a Draco on bottom, you should look elsewhere. I really thrive on reviews and will update as quickly as possible. Hope to hear what you all think of it!
- 1
- 2
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Before You