Hellooooo,
Hi. So I have a few things I want to say first. It's just a thank you to everyone who read my smutty one-shot thing 'Cupboard.' Never had so many favourites or reviews for a story before so it means a lot that people like it. I think?
Anyway, this is a new story. It's chaptered. I don't know when I'll update it but I know where this one is going. I like it. It's going to happen. I promise. It's smutty, next (maybe the one after) chapter will contain sex. This like the prologue thing. I guess.
Yeah, this is the part where I'm writing about how I don't own the characters and everything belongs to J.K Rowling and ting. Soz bob.
I don't have a BETA for this, because I want to focus on correcting my own mistakes with this story, so there will be THOUSANDS of mistakes. I'm sorry about that, and if there are any that piss you off feel free to tell me.
Yeah. Warnings… erm. Death probably? Not major character death. Don't worry. Just mentions of it. Lots of sex. Loss of virginity. Drinking booze. Lots of fucking wearing. Doesn't follow the epilogue of course. There's more to put here but I can't be arsed writing it. If what I write kills you, then that's a shame.
Prologue.
Harry Potter had it all, good friends, a job and a shit load of stress. He was more stressed than one thought possible. You see Harry was constantly in demand, and he didn't know how to say no. So not only was he dealing with his nine to five job of catching the bad guys he was also doing press calls, photo shoots, advertising campaigns. He was constantly in demand.
And there is Draco Malfoy, who-once-had-it-all-but-no-longer-did-but-was-still-stressed. He was stressed because he had nothing. No job, no family and no money. He was poor, and living day-to-day. He was reluctantly going through a phase of selling his mother and father's fine jewellery in order to eat and drink. He was constantly depressed.
Now picture this… Friday night, it's raining, and not a witch, wizard or squib is roaming the grounds of Diagon Alley. Apart from two men, of course you already know who they are but I'm building up suspense. Deal with it. The two men were different in height, but not so. The taller one was blonde, silver eyed and skinny. He wore tatty clothes and his hair looked like it hadn't been washed in months. The other man, shorter, had dark hair. He was bulkier, his clothes were decent and he was clean. Despite the fact that he looked like a wet dog.
The taller one, who is Draco my dears, had just ran out of a bakery with a loaf of bread in his satchel. The bread was stolen, and I also think the satchel might have been as well. Draco wasn't allowed to apparate, so had no option but to run into the rain and towards the Leaky Cauldron.
The shorter one, who is Harry, had just apparated into Diagon Alley. Apparition wasn't his strong point, he wanted to apparate closer to the Leaky Cauldron. Apparently that wasn't going to happen. So he had no option but to run through the rain and towards the Leaky Cauldron.
Draco arrived first; he slipped into the pub which was warm and quiet apart from the odd few wizards dotted around. Draco nodded to the bar-man, Tom, who he had struck up a deal with a few months ago.
For a free glass of booze and a hot meal here and there Draco would do the odd job here and there for Tom. I used here and there twice, I do apologies. Anyway, Tom set the glass of cheap whiskey on the side and magiced up a bowl of hot steaming tomato soup. The house elves in the kitchen must have already had it set out.
Draco sat down and gratefully took a big mouth full the soup and shivered as it warmed him right up.
He didn't notice the door he had just walked through open up, and he didn't notice Harry enter, he didn't notice Harry walking up to the bar, but he did notice Harry sitting down two seats away and call out for a glass of something strong.
It was a kind of double glance thing, something you only see in movies.
Harry and Draco both looked at each other and nodded, probably out of respect and with sympathy at acknowledging each other's state of wetness, then turned away. Almost instantly they turned back round, upon realising who it was they had just been polite to.
'Malfoy,' Harry spoke first. His eye brows frowning, his lip sneering, disgust.
'Potter,' Draco spoke second. Of course he did, I could write that he talked third but not really, Tom only swore, doesn't really count.
'What are you doing here?' That was the two of them, word for word, at the same time. Harrys frown deepened, and for a fleeting second an old part of Draco came back.
'I wouldn't frown like that Potter, you'll get wrinkles.'
It was either out of shock that Draco had spoken to him, or shock at the thought of wrinkles, but Harry stopped frowning. His forehead instantly becoming smooth.
'I'm eating,' said Draco, 'by the way.' He raised his spoon that was full of soup and showed it to Harry, before taking a sip of the soup.
'I'm escaping the rain, and people.' Said Harry taking a sip of his whiskey that Tom had just placed in front of him.
'I thought you liked people.' Said Draco, 'You saved a lot of them. If my history is correct.'
Harry nodded, 'You always did have better history scores than me at Hogwarts.'
Draco chuckled, 'Don't tell anyone, but I cheated.'
Harry hung his head and sniggered, 'How you doing? I haven't seen you in three years.' He asked looking round to Draco
Draco paused, three years ago before this event was a difficult time for him. His father had been sentenced to the kiss, his mother was depressed and he was public enemy number one.
'I'm ok.' He replied simply.
Harry narrowed his eyes and looked at Draco suspiciously.
'Tell me the truth and I'll buy you some decant whiskey.'
'Buy me some decant whiskey and I'll tell you the truth.'
Harry contemplated the offer and nodded, 'Ok.' He turned to Tom who was busy pretending not to listen, 'Tom. What's the best whiskey you have in the house?'
Tom bent down and pulled out a dusty decanter of whiskey as set it down on the counter. '1896 Oak Mature Mead.' He said proudly. '20 Galleons a glass.'
'How much is the bottle?' Asked Harry.
Tom gasped, 'The whole bottle? Why Mr. Potter that's far too much for anyone.'
'How much?' He asked again.
'Two Hundred and Fifty Galleons.'
Harry paused for second; he contemplated whether or not it was a good idea. Harry was known for only investing; he never spent large amounts of money on anything ridiculous. He told me this every time I considered buying something 'lavish'.
But he wanted to know about Draco, he wanted a bit of company, he wanted to complain. So he decided to buy.
'I'll have it,' said Harry, 'I'll write you a cheque.' Harry pulled a cheque book out of his brief case and scribbled all the details before passing it to Tom. Tom was either shocked at the large of amount of money or reluctant to pass it over, but he shakily passed it to Harry.
It was a large glass, the same size as a head.
'As if you just bought that,' said Draco with disbelief.
Harry simply shrugged, he accepted to glasses of Tom and passed one to Draco.
'Want to go sit at a table?' Asked Harry.
Draco picked up his glass and inspected it, deciding it was worthy of his touch Draco nodded. 'Ok.'
It was two glasses later and both Draco and Harry were drunk, not so drunk that they were so out of it but drunk enough that everything was open and honest.
'What's been up with your life then?' Asked Harry sipping his drink.
'Mum decided to die not long after Father. The bastard ministry took my home and everything in it. I was left with the clothes on my back. I was allowed to Apparate then, so I came here and got a job doing bits and bobs for shops. Got paid knuts.'
Draco's head was on the table and he was staring at his glass; the amber liquid was warming to look at. He hadn't felt warm in a long time.
'Got into a bit of bother with a gang two years back, your Auror lot nabbed me and took away my right to apparate. I have my wand, but it's limited in what I can do with it. It's all basic third year stuff. Just been walking since.'
Harry stared at Draco, taking in his wasted youth. Everything about him seemed so poor. And not in a money way. He was skinny, ill, lanky hair and he stank. But he was smiling. And did he have a lot to smile about?
Harry hadn't smiled like that in a long time and he had everything.
It was because he was drunk, tired, lonely and… well a little bit horny, that Harry decided to do what he did. He ran his hand through Draco's hair. Draco didn't react at first, he tensed up. Then Harry started massaging his scalp and he melted into it.
'That feels good.' He mumbled.
Then Harry heard a little snore, and he realised that Draco had fallen fast asleep. He couldn't leave Draco sitting there on his own, and he unfortunately had a too large a house to go back to. He did contemplate, for a brief second, taking him home. But he decided against it. Instead he poured the remaining whiskey back into the decanter and closed it back up. Then carefully he tapped it with his wand, sending it to his house.
He walked over to Tom with the dirty glasses and set them down him front of him, and then pulled out his cheque book again.
'How much for three nights?' He asked.
'30 Galleons.' Said Tom picking up the dirty glasses.
'Ok, well I've written 90 down. Nine nights. Look after him.'
Tom knew who Harry was talking about, and nodded. 'Sure think Mr Potter. Anything for you.'
Harry thanked Tom, as he always did because he was kind, and passed Tom the cheque. Then he took one last look at Draco before walking towards the fire place and stepping inside, he took a pinch of floor powder and chucked it at his feet and instantly green fire shot up and licked his legs.
'Number 12 Grimmuald place.' He said and the last thing he saw as he spun round was Draco waking up from his sleep.