Authors Note: Yay! so here's a new oneshot I've been working on, and it's actually a bit long, so I decided to make it a twoshot. lol. This first part was beta'ed by my lovely Shannon and my newest addition to Team Awesome: Devin. Yay Devin! I hope you enjoy and the 2nd part will be posted shortly. (As always my yahoo group whose link you can find on my profile contains the Header art for this fic and all of my others)
Wanting and Kneading
Chapter 1 Of All the Massage Parlors in all the World…
The room was lovely, covered in floor to ceiling teak slats stained a deep chocolate brown. Faint green lines played randomly across Draco's pale skin as he luxuriated on a plush lounge chair and flipped distractedly through a magazine. The emerald lines crisscrossing his bare chest, put there by the massive wall of backlit cut bamboo, made it hard for him to read the vapid articles in the muggle tabloid he had picked up.
No loss really, only that there wasn't much else to do and the only other person in the room with him hardly looked interesting enough to bother striking up a conversation with. So he was left there to ponder on who this 'Lily Allen' character was and why the magazine portrayed her to be such a drugged up tart. He rarely paid any attention to muggle pop culture, as there was hardly any need. Whatever shops or establishments muggles had, no doubt there was a wizarding version that was better, but that hardly explained what Draco was doing basking in the Galgorm Resort and Spa, which was clearly a very muggle hotel.
The truth of it was that Draco didn't know precisely why he was there either, aside from the fact that his mother suggested it and he rarely ignored his mother's advice. He'd certainly been feeling stressed lately, what with his exhausting career as owner and founder of a non-profit organization that served to provide financial relief to those most affected by the war. It took Draco nearly five years to build the company from the ground up –longer even than it took to rebuild the massive school of Hogwarts after the damage it sustained- and now just a few years in, Draco was beginning to feel the weight of what he had created crushing in around him.
He had originally started the organization for purely selfish reasons, wanting to put a fresh and kind face on the name 'Malfoy' after they were nearly crucified in the Death Eater trials. It wasn't but six months in, however, that he started to meet some of the families he would be helping and discovered the truth of what had happened to so many good and decent people in the war that he had stood on the wrong side of.
Not that he was sentimental, but Draco felt a new purpose and drive with his endeavor that took him further than the mere personal gain would have. He worked longer, harder and gave more of himself to the project than he had ever planned and in the end was rewarded with the toasty feelings of waking up in the morning and knowing that he had made a difference.
Unfortunately it also rewarded him with poor posture, terrible backaches from sitting behind a desk all day and a throbbing head that just wouldn't cease from having to deal with the media all the time. This coupled with the fact that he had been working so hard over the past few years made it so that he never bothered to try and meet anyone, and he found on the rare occasions he was able to rest, that he was terribly lonely.
As soon as his mother laid eyes on him that morning she had insisted he make an appointment here, so he did and found himself enjoying the silence for a change.
Well, perhaps not silence, because there was a faint earthy music drifting through the room, but certainly not the ruckus of assistants all vying for his attention or the press trying to snap photos of him eating lunch. It was as if the sudden disappearance of Harry Potter four years ago made Draco their new number one target. But it was peaceful there in the hotel spa with his tray of tea, candles and wild purple orchids, lounging on soft linens and surrounded by luxury.
His body was still slightly damp from his soak in the spa's opulent pool and he was forced to remember to tighten the towel around his waist when one of the hotel employee's came to fetch him for his massage appointment.
"How did you enjoy our infinity hydrotherapy pool Mr. Malfoy?" the young redhead asked as she led Draco down a long hall made entirely of horizontal wooden slats interspersed with modern nature paintings and sculptures.
"It was relaxing," he replied distractedly as he held tightly to his towel, the only article of clothing on his body at the moment.
"Excellent," she beamed as she opened the door to a private room with a large massage table and rich fabric covered walls that draped up into a point at the center of the room. "Well, I've arranged for Nadia to work with you today. She's one of our most beautiful masseuses. Your mother called and insisted," she told him with a wink.
Draco frowned and shook his head lightly. "What if I were to say I preferred your most handsome masseur?" he replied.
The woman looked confused at first and then broke into a cheeky grin. "I see, well, there is Hans," she offered.
"The name Hans makes him sound… big," Draco said with a grimace. He had an aversion to men who were overly built and buff, as he preferred not to be crushed.
"He is," she replied and then sensed that trait might be a problem and nodded with another wink. "I have just the one for you then. Disrobe and lay down over there," she instructed as she pointed to the heavily padded table in the middle of the room before leaving him alone once more.
The room was dimly lit with candles and little else so that it was fairly dark and had a romantic feeling. He flushed slightly at the thought, wondering what the spa employee must think he intended to happen while he was in there by asking for a handsome man. This wasn't some seedy 'happy ending' massage parlor and he wouldn't participate in such nonsense anyway, but he could at least fantasize that the man rubbing him down was his lover and not a paid massage therapist. That would be a far easier thing for Draco to do if his masseur were closer to the kind of man he might actually take as a lover.
Draco just hoped the girl wasn't off telling the other employees of the dirty English man in room two.
He quickly removed his towel and draped it over the chair in the corner of the room, only to retrieve it again when he realized he was suddenly much too modest to just lay naked and exposed on the table for some unknown stranger. So, instead he climbed onto the table, laid face down and attempted to cover his bum with the towel, which was quite the feat from that position since he didn't have his wand and wanted to make certain everything was properly covered.
The aroma of the room was intoxicating, flooding his senses with the fragrance of the orient. Lemongrass, sweet orange and lavender all coated his body like a warm and comforting blanket. His stress began to ebb away at once and he nearly fell asleep when he heard the door open and someone step into the room.
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Harry was folding towels by the sauna when Emily came straight up to him and whispered in his ear. "I have the perfect client for you."
"Oh?" Harry asked, mildly entertained by her constant enthusiasm. He'd been working there for nearly four years, having bolted from his central London flat and Auror job in the middle of the night to find something else to do with his rut of a life. He had left in search of happiness and he had found it, or at least close to it, in the beautiful woodland setting of Northern Ireland.
Harry had originally stopped there for the hotel, thinking the lovely white manor would be a welcomed respite from his long journey through Europe and he fell in love with the nearby towns and all the people who lived and worked there.
One night at dinner, his waiter casually mentioned that they were in need of another spa employee and Harry jumped at the opportunity. He didn't even know what had possessed him to, but he told them that if the other hotel staff trained him, he would be their man. He'd never left after that.
They didn't pay him, because he was hardly in need of money. They simply let him stay in one of the self-catering cottages along side the river in exchange for his employ and he worked very hard to become one of the best the hotel had to offer in massage therapy. It was mutually beneficial, as the hotel got an on-call masseur on staff at a fraction of the cost to hire one and Harry had no paper trail linking him to Ireland, not to mention the small elite resort.
It was a fulfilling career, getting to work with his hands to make others feel better, but the best part for Harry was getting to meet so many different personalities each day, none of which judged him for his actions in the war or since, because they didn't know who he really was. It was often times just as relaxing for Harry to be in the spa as it was for the guests.
Emily had taken to him at once and they often had lunch together or drinks after their shift ended. She had been vastly disappointed when Harry informed her that he was gay, but shifted gears at once into trying to set her friend up with the best men she could find. Whenever she came over to him with 'the perfect client' he knew she meant another good looking gay man.
"You know I don't date clients," Harry chastised for what he felt was the hundredth time.
"He's gorgeous, Harry," she informed him, clearly not listening to his protest. "And you don't have to date him, just fuck him so that you'll stop being so cranky."
"Emily," he hissed with narrowed eyes. "I'm not having sex with a client and I'm not being cranky," he informed her firmly.
"Whatever you say," Emily replied with a wink and patted him on the bum. "You'll thank me later," she added in a singsong voice and flitted off back down the hall toward the reception desk.
"Doubtful," Harry called after her, but she only laughed and pointed toward the door where Harry's new client awaited.
Harry sighed and grabbed one of the freshly folded towels before heading toward the room. As soon as he entered a slightly familiar voice began speaking to him.
"I heard laughing in the hall outside, was that girl making fun of me?" the man asked, somewhat distressed sounding, which was not at all how someone being pampered should sound.
"Hardly," Harry assured him and began to gather his things and line the counter with them. "Emily thinks she's quite funny, but she's sorely mistaken I'm afraid."
"So she wasn't talking about me?" the man asked again.
"No, she was attempting to tease me," Harry replied and ran his hand smoothly along the man's back trying to calm him. "You're very tense, you should relax and leave your worries for another time," he whispered.
From what Harry could see the man was stunning, and if his morals were looser he might have thanked Emily after all, but that was out of the question. He liked his job, his home, and his friends and would not be propositioning a stranger for a date.
"That accent," the man observed. "Clearly you're not from here."
"No, I moved here from London a few years back," Harry commented idly as he warmed his hands over the hot stones in the corner.
"For the job?" the man asked.
"To escape," Harry replied honestly. "London was full of people who misunderstood me and tried to use me." It was always rather cathartic to be able to talk to his clients about parts of his life. Clearly he couldn't tell them everything, but there wasn't much safer a person to talk with than a muggle at a hotel spa in Ireland. No one he knew would ever find him there, he was fairly certain of it.
"I know the feeling," the man groaned. "I'm a bit of a public figure there myself and it's exhausting."
"Well I can always see if they're hiring here," Harry replied cheekily and began to rub a thin sheen of oil on the man's shoulders and back.
"How nice it would be to just escape," he sighed and began to melt against Harry's hands.
There wasn't much talking for a few moments as Harry kneaded the man's slender back. He was amused to see that the man was shy enough to cover up with a towel and wondered how he would broach the subject when it came time to remove it. It was a full body massage after all.
He relished in the moans and groans that escaped the stranger's lips, even though it was the only pleasure he would be giving the man, Harry was still excited that he was so well received. He let his mind wander, thinking of how the stranger would feel in his bed, but shook it off the moment he lifted the man's pale arm.
There in dark green relief, looking as though it had been scraped and cut, was a skull and snake tattoo, and Harry's heart began to race. He tried not to let his body show the anxiety that he was starting to feel as the pale skin, platinum hair and dark mark all indicated who he was touching.
Draco Malfoy.
"Nice tattoo," he commented, but the offending arm was promptly yanked out of his reach as the man attempted to roll over. Harry stopped him by gently massaging his neck, which seemed to calm the man slightly and then he changed the subject trying to determine if he was correct about the stranger's identity.
"So you said you were in the public eye? Would I know you?" Harry asked calmly, not trying to give away that he knew who he was.
"Doubtful," the man chuckled. "I'm in sort of a… special sector."
"So then what brings you up here?" he asked as casually as he could manage.
"My mother suggested a stay here to relieve some stress. It's working, but not as well as it could, I imagine." He groaned lowly as Harry continued to rub his neck, guiding the man to keep looking the other way. If Harry was correct, and it really was Malfoy beneath his fingertips, then he had no intention of letting the man know who he was alone with.
"Are you here alone then?" Harry asked, and his own question thrilled him. Was it possible that their meeting was a simple coincidence and that Malfoy would be quickly moving on, unknowingly having run into the Boy Who Lived on his vacation?
"Yes, I am. I'm here for the week," he replied, his voice dropping into a low and almost suggestive octave. "I don't suppose you'd know of someone who might keep me company for dinner tonight?"
Harry nearly laughed out loud at the irony of Draco Malfoy hitting on him. Something he might have hoped for before he left but was now just a wistful dream. It was made even funnier since Malfoy clearly didn't know who he was even talking to. "Are you asking me on a date, Sir?" Harry asked brazenly, and continued to trail warm oiled hands down Malfoy's back, letting them graze just below the towel's edge. If he was going to have to put up with Malfoy in his hotel he should at least be able to have a bit of fun at the prat's expense.
Draco squirmed beneath his touch, and more than ever he was convinced that it was in fact the Malfoy heir. "I might be, if you're open to it," he replied at last.
Harry grinned and removed the terrycloth towel that covered Draco's bum, letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor. He ground his fingers into the pert flesh and smiled wider when Malfoy nearly arched into the touch with a heated moan. "I sort of have a policy about not dating clients," Harry replied softly, letting his words contradict his actions and watching to see how Malfoy would handle it.
"I understand," Draco sighed, seemingly resigned and perhaps even disappointed. Harry was both relieved and slightly put out that his decline was so easily accepted, but then Malfoy surprised him. "I do make pleasant company however. Perhaps- if you're not already busy that is- you could just join me for a drink?"
It wasn't the question, Harry had been asked out by plenty of people since he started working at the hotel and was very proficient in politely turning them all down and still making his tip, but it was the sullen manner with which Malfoy asked that made Harry pause.
"How do you know you'd even like to get drinks with me? You don't know me from Adam," he replied, curious to hear Malfoy's answer. It was fairly obvious that the blonde had no idea who it was massaging him as his face continued to stare at the ground and it made Harry's heart thud slightly to think that Malfoy seemed interested in him after all their time apart.
But then maybe he just thought that a gay masseuse would be an easy lay.
"You seem friendly, and I could use a friend," he replied. "Someone who doesn't know me, or judge me."
"I'm not your guy," Harry replied sullenly, feeling as though the game was over after all. He knew Malfoy far to well to be an impartial ear to whatever sordid drama had been going on in his life since he left. He stepped away from the table and walked briskly to the door, letting the back of his head fall against it when it was shut again.
"What's wrong?" Emily asked when she saw him. "Did he get grabby?" she demanded, her eyes alight with accusation.
"No, he didn't do anything. I just had to get out of there, can you assign someone else to finish?" Harry pleaded.
"Harry, what's the matter?" she asked again, not letting the subject drop.
"I know him," Harry answered at last. "From London," he fibbed. "I just… he can't know that I'm here, okay?" he begged, and put all of his worry into his eyes as he did.
"Did you used to date him?" she asked curiously.
"No, just… just do this one favor for me, okay?" Harry asked and bolted down the hallway before she gave her answer.
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Confusion washed over Draco more powerfully than the warm scents that accosted his nose. He had felt an uncanny connection to the mysterious man and then he had just abruptly left. He never would have been so bold if he hadn't thought that there might be something there, something outside of a paid companionship, but had he really offended him so severely? He could really do with getting to know someone outside of the bustle of his life back home and hated the idea of eating alone in his room. If he wanted to be alone he would have just stayed home.
The door opened and Draco tensed, waiting to hear what excuse the man would come up with for leaving so suddenly, but it was a woman's voice he heard instead and he turned to see the same flame haired woman who had led him to the room. She winced slightly at the look of clear dismay he gave her and shrugged. "He wasn't feeling so well so I'm going to have Frederick finish you up, I hope that's alright."
"He seemed so familiar," Draco mused out loud.
"Oh?" she replied noncommittally. "Yeah, Harry gets that a lot. He has that sort of aura about him."
"Harry?" Draco asked, the puzzle pieces clicking together at once. He often had dreams of those strong hands on his body and never had he imagined it would feel as good as it did. Could it be true? The voice, the genuinely calming presence he always got around other magical folk, the time frame for when the boy said he came to work there even matched up with his disappearance from London.
Was it truly possible that Harry Potter had been living here among Muggles all that time with no one the wiser?
"No, I said Henry, that was Henry who just left," she corrected, her face flushing a pale pink.
"Did he know it was me?" Draco demanded with an immediate and seething anger, ignoring her ridiculous cover up. "Is that why Potter left, because he realized who I was?"
"Bit of a violent one, hm?" she asked with pursed lips. "How does someone like you know Harry, anyhow? Obviously you two come from totally different worlds."
Draco laughed out loud at the nonsense and shook his head. "Harry and I are two of a kind, sweetheart. I've been looking for him for years and here he is, working with you, acting like he's one of you," Draco growled and leapt up from the table, forgetting momentarily that he was completely starkers.
Emily smirked and threw him a towel, although she tossed it wide so that he had to reach for it and expose himself more. "Well, I can certainly see why he bothered to know you to begin with," she noted with a wink. "But what did you do to make him run?"
"I didn't make him run," Draco protested unconvincingly. "I tried to find him, even after his friends gave up and moved on, I still kept look-outs, but I should have known how clever he'd be about it all. Hiding here was perfect, really. If not for my mother I would have never found him," Draco whispered in slight awe.
"Well, you should just take off I think. Harry doesn't want to see you, and if you care about him then you won't tell anyone where he is," she reasoned, clearly not understanding any of it.
"I care about him more than someone like you could ever know. He's a hero back where we come from, a celebrity. He deserves better than to be rubbing stranger's arses," Draco spat.
"He wasn't too good for it when it was your arse," she pointed out smartly.
Draco simply rolled his eyes and drifted into memories that he'd thought he'd gotten over. "After the war, I thought we could be something more to one another. I tried everything I could to impress him and get his attention, but all of it in vein. Sure he'd flirt occasionally, but never so much that it led anywhere," he whispered, more to himself than to the confused looking woman in the doorway.
"What war?" she asked, frowning deeply.
Draco simply ignored her and pressed on. "There was a ball at the Ministry and I was finally going to tell him how I felt. I wore my best robes and styled my hair the way I knew he liked it and I waited for him to arrive… but he never showed up. I found out in the papers the next day that he was gone, stolen away in the middle of the night."
He didn't know why he was pouring everything out to the strange muggle woman, other than the fact that she was there and wouldn't know what to do with the information anyhow.
"So you both worked in government?" she asked, having taken a seat during his last bit of story.
"He does, did, sort of," Draco replied. "We thought he had been kidnapped though, and for a while it was a huge deal, entire teams of Aur- law enforcement were after him, but in time it was pretty clear that he had left of his own accord. That's when Granger and Weasley gave up looking, the rest of the world followed soon after."
"Ron and Hermione? Yeah, he's told me about them. He misses them a lot," she told him sadly.
"Well, he wouldn't have to miss them if he came back with me," Draco replied snidely. "But there's not much of a chance of that if he runs off at the first sight of me."
"Maybe…" she began and then sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. "He lives here at the hotel. I shouldn't tell you this but he's been depressed lately, and it keeps getting worse. I think he's homesick in a way. Don't tell him I told you, but he's got a cottage on the edge of the grounds," she informed him hurriedly and walked to the door.
"Thanks," Draco whispered, feeling an honest gratitude toward the muggle woman. "Does… does he ever mention Draco Malfoy?"
She shook her head sadly. "No, not to me, but he did mention a bloke back in London he had a crush on, maybe that was you?" she suggested.
"I doubt it, but thanks for trying to cheer me," Draco replied with a soft chuckle.
"If you're going to go after him you should do it soon. Harry has a way of… disappearing and if he doesn't want to be found he won't be," she warned.
"That's not a recent trait," Draco assured her and took off, firm grip on his towel, toward the lockers so he could retrieve his clothes.
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"Damn that Emily," Harry gripped, assuming his friend tattled and unable to think of another plausible reason why a certain blonde Slytherin would be skulking around in his front yard.
He took a deep and shuddering breath and jerked open the door, nearly smiling when Malfoy jumped clear out of his skin. "You just couldn't leave well enough alone could you?" Harry asked, arms crossed defensively over his chest.
"I'm notorious for it, you of all people should know that about me, Harry," Draco replied, striding up the stone path to stand directly in front of him.
"There's a lot that I know about you, Malfoy, but why you're stalking me here is not one of them," he said with narrowed eyes. He was certain the blonde was trying to trick him into going back to London, but no amount of luscious pale skin or piercing gray eyes were going to achieve that.
"You injure me, Harry. I thought we were friends before you left," Draco responded softly. "Did our late night pub trips and heated debates over magic-muggle equality mean nothing to you?"
Harry remembered them well; it was one of the things he missed most when he left. The camaraderie he had felt with Malfoy during those last few months kept building until Harry had begun to dream about him and even think of him as more than a friend.
It was also one of the reasons why he ran.
Harry was falling for the unyielding blonde, and he had no idea whether his feelings were reciprocated or whether he was just falling for an enigma. He had been home picturing Draco at the Ministry ball the night he finally made his decision to leave. It was easy to imagine the Slytherin spinning a lovely date around the dance floor and then leaving with that person while Harry sat in the corner pining after something that was virtually untouchable.
He couldn't let his life go on that way. He hated his job, his friends had all grown distant with their own lives taking hold and there Harry sat -alone and unwanted. So he left, drained his accounts, gave away all his things to neighbors and took off to find a place where he could be needed and wanted and happy.
Two out of three wasn't bad.
He couldn't very well spill all that nonsense out into the open, however, so he simply shrugged. "Are you going to send the Prophet after me now? Draco Malfoy unwittingly discovers the hiding place of Harry Potter?" he asked in a booming reporter voice.
"Only if you refuse dinner with me," Draco replied sharply.
"Why should I have dinner with you? You're the past, Malfoy, you have no place in my life anymore and you won't convince me to come back," Harry said firmly.
"I won't even try to convince you," Draco replied eagerly, but Harry only narrowed his eyes at the obvious lie. "Okay, so I'd be daft not to try, but if you're so happy and strong willed as you say, then it shouldn't matter."
Harry sighed, letting all the air flow out of him before taking another deep gulp. Unfortunately his new air tasted of Malfoy and he found himself nodding in agreement. "Fine," he stated at last. "I'll meet you in the dining room bar at eight."
Draco beamed and bowed. "You honor me, Harry." And with that he spun on his heel and left Harry standing in the doorway, a shudder raining down his spine.
"What did I just agree to?" he asked himself as he shut the door and began to mentally prepare himself for the onslaught the sexy Slytherin no doubt had in store for him.
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Authors Note: Oiled up Draco's for all!!