Author's Notes: This story was written for HD_Smoochfest 2011, for bootsy_mine whose prompts were Malfoy Manor, hot tub, cheesecake, chocolate, massage and Harry's chest monster.
Thank you to my lovely, wonderful, awesome betas, Brent Maenen, Myriam H and Wendypops, whose help has made this fic far, far better! I owe you, ladies & gentleman ;) All remaining mistakes, of course, are mine.
Be Careful What You Wish For - Part 1
'… and now all he does is cut fabrics. So much for being a fashion designer.'
Harry joined in with the others and laughter echoed from the walls of the Leaky Cauldron.
'Did anyone happen to see Millicent Bulstrode lately?' Lavender asked. Her voice was a mixture of excitement and disbelief, and it made sure that every female at the large table in the corner of the café leaned closer in anticipation.
All, with the exception of Hermione who watched the girls with slight exasperation and rolled her eyes.
Harry knew how the habit of their friends, to start their monthly gathering with the exchange of the latest gossip about former schoolmates, annoyed her. Usually she managed to skip this first part of the evening under the pretence that she had to do overtime at the Ministry, but since she just had a week off for the first time in ages, she hadn't been able to avoid it.
He startled when Ginny and Parvati exclaimed: 'You've got to be kidding! She lost twenty pounds? Which modelling agency?'
Even Harry rolled his eyes at this blatant display of shallowness. He was just thinking of something, anything, to change the subject, when Dean beat him to it.
'Speaking of Slytherins … guess who was spotted at a Muggle beauty salon the other day?'
Dean tried to silence Ginny, so they could, take a guess, but his girlfriend blurted the answer anyway.
'Draco Malfoy!'
The silence that followed didn't last longer than four seconds, and then Dean was bombarded with questions.
'How do you know?'
'Are you sure?'
'Draco bloody Malfoy?'
'Who saw him?'
Even Hermione seemed interested. Harry, however, was just speechless. He stared at Dean with his mouth hanging open. Draco Malfoy visited a Muggle establishment? He could see the ponce in a beauty salon, sure, but a Muggle one?
'… not a visitor. He works there according to Dean!' Ginny giggled.
'WHAT?' Harry blushed when he realized that not only had he drawn the attention of all of his friends, but most of the other customers as well. 'But … how … why?'
Hermione came to his rescue and explained in her no-nonsense voice: 'Well, it's kind of logical, isn't it? The Ministry did seize large amounts of money and properties, so I suppose he can't live off of daddy's money, like he used to.'
She gave Harry a short, but meaningful look before she continued: 'And besides, he doesn't have a wand of his own anymore.'
Harry tightened his jaw but ignored the comment. It wasn't the first time his friend had brought up the issue of Malfoy's wand. Of course deep down Harry knew he should have given Malfoy his wand back a long time ago, but …
He sighed. There just wasn't a good reason, but something had been holding him back.
Dean told everyone that he'd seen Malfoy leave in the lavender uniform the masseurs of the salon wore when he had been waiting to pick up his cousin.
Suddenly Harry felt something inside that he hadn't felt for years. Hot blood seemed to flood his brain and extinguish all reasonable thought.
The voices surrounding him vanished as though they were a great distance away. Ron's freckles faded, and the faces of Neville and Seamus blurred together with other ones until his friends where nothing more than a group of faceless people.
The faceless people who went for a massage from Malfoy everyday. The thought was clawing at his insides like a wild animal trying to break out of his cage; after all this time his chest monster had woken up again.
Someone took a firm hold of his arm.
'Harry?' Vaguely he recognized Hermione's voice. He shook his head as if to clear his mind. Hermione sounded a little worried, but she had that curious look in her eyes like she always had whenever she stood on the brink of figuring something out. He took his glass in order to avoid her eyes and was glad to see his hands at least were steady.
'Sorry, Hermione, it's been a long day and you're explanation made me think about …'
'Malfoy's wand?'
What? Butterbeer spurted from his nose while he looked with wide-open eyes at his best friend.
Hermione looked apologetically at him and handed him a paper napkin.
'I know,' she said, 'I shouldn't have made that comment earlier, but I don't understand why you just won't give it back to Malfoy.'
Ah, the wand!
'Oi, Hermione, let him enjoy his Butterbeer. You can push Harry into doing that again tomorrow,' Ron said from his other side. Hermione grumbled something, turned her back to them, and started a conversation with Susan.
Ron shrugged his shoulders and asked Harry about his last assignment.
Although Harry had a great evening, once in a while the thought about the monster in his chest crossed his mind, and he wondered why the beast had risen after all this time. If he remembered correctly, it had erupted into life in Harry's stomach during sixth year when he and Ron had caught Ginny snogging Dean.
He looked at the two of them, but felt nothing. Dean was feeding his girlfriend tiny biscuits and kissing the crumbs off her lips. When Ginny caught him watching them, she smiled. As Harry returned the gesture, he realized that the only feeling in his chest at that moment was happiness for the two of them.
o~0~O~0~o
Harry let himself fall on the couch, too exhausted to climb the stairs yet, and too intoxicated to Apparate without the risk of splinching himself. 'I shouldn't have taken those Firewhiskeys Seamus kept offering,' he grumbled to the empty room.
That was probably the reason he had been feeling so weird earlier. It had nothing to do with chest monsters. Nothing at all!
But the mention of chest monsters immediately brought his thoughts back to Draco sodding Malfoy. In a lavender uniform, which would look ridiculous on someone else, but would only highlight Malfoy's silver blond hair. Something his clients would most likely appreciate. His chest monster roared its disapproval. The idea that Malfoy would put his hands on Muggles was repulsing. Since Harry never had a massage himself, he could only imagine where Malfoy would put his hands; on some stranger's shoulders, probably, or on their back, and maybe lower on their buttocks. Soft and feminine, or firm and masculine.
His monster growled and Harry had the sudden urge to jinx those strangers into jelly. Unfortunately his lower body was in disagreement with the creature in his chest. The thought of Malfoy's long, pale fingers on firm buttocks had caught the attention of his cock, which seemed to be very interested.
'No, no, no,' he moaned, not liking where this was going to. But the Firewhiskey – because what else could cause such stupid thoughts? – conjured images of those pale hands on Harry's tanned skin, and he moaned again. Unable to think of anything else, he wondered if Malfoy's hands would be rough; calloused from flying his broom during a Quidditch game, or soft because the git probably went for a manicure on a regular basis. But seeing that Malfoy had to work for money, there couldn't have been many of those in the recent months, so his fingers would likely feel the same as Harry's. His traitorous fingers, which had sneaked up under the hem of his shirt, moved over his abs in a lazy fashion. He put a little more pressure to it, because obvious Malfoy would be massaging the skin, not caressing. Something in the back of his mind screamed to stop acting so revolting, but his hands wouldn't listen. They slid slowly over his chest, brushing his nipples, and he shivered at the sensation.
His head tipped back against the couch, he closed his eyes and gave up fighting. As he stroked over his skin downwards again, over ribs and flat abdomen, he pretended his hand was Malfoy's. Malfoy, whom he'd paid to touch him, to glide his hands all over Harry's body, to follow the downy soft line of hair to the waistband of his jeans, which were suddenly too tight. Harry fumbled with the buttons, tugged at the fabric and pulled it down. He gasped as the fingertips – his fingertips - tentatively pushed into the dark hair. He couldn't believe how arousing the image was of Malfoy's hand touching Harry like this. The thought send a jolt straight to his cock. He shivered and slid his fingers over the hard shaft. His lips parted and a moan escaped. As he imagined silver-grey eyes looking at him – one eyebrow raised – while Malfoy stroked him, Harry felt close to coming. Little thrills of delight started flowing through his body, until he felt release soar through him and spray over his tight abdomen and jeans. He sagged on the couch, his arm limp beside him.
When he eventually fell asleep, the monster in his chest purred softly.
A ray of sunshine tortured his eyes. His head was pounding, there was a kink in his neck vertebrae that seemed to be connected with the sharp pain behind his left eye, and his mouth tasted like hell. He wouldn't be surprised to discover that he'd been drooling. Talking of which …
His eyes snapped southwards and he discovered that his lower body was covered with a blanket. The woollen fabric felt weird on his naked bits, he thought. Then realization hit him; it must have been Kreacher doing the covering up thing. Mortified he closed his eyes and let his head fall back on the back of the couch.
Fuck! Not a wise action.
The smell of coffee was coming from the kitchen and Harry debated what to do. Embarrassment told him to hide in his room, but the hammering sound in his head demanded he face his house-elf and get some coffee. He was brave. Wasn't he? Well, that's what people always told him anyway.
The sound of the cupboard doors reminded him of the spare hangover potion he kept in his kitchen. Just for occasions like this.
The marching band gave an encore when he got up from the couch and he groaned silently. The blanket fell on the floor although some lint got stuck in the mess he'd made last night when he'd been thinking about –
Oh no, not going there again!
He took his wand, casted a cleaning charm on himself, and pulled his pants and trousers back up. He wanted to grind his teeth, but that didn't sit well with his neck. With a sigh, he went to the kitchen.
o~0~O~0~o
Looking at the big mansion in front of him, Harry wondered what the hell he was doing here. Apparently somewhere between breakfast and just before he'd Apparated he'd decided to go visit Draco Malfoy, of all people. When he really should avoid him like the dragon pox, at least until every last drop of liquor was out of his system.
He fingered the two wands in his pocket and sighed, resigned. Had he ever won against Hermione in the end, when she wanted him to do the right thing?
He stepped up to the front door and knocked. When the door opened, he automatically looked downwards, but to his surprise, he didn't see the big, hairy feet of an house-elf, but a pair of expensive leather shoes and some neat, black trousers.
'Well, well, isn't this a surprise,' a familiar voice drawled. Harry's head snapped up and a sharp ache shot through his neck again. His vision blurred for a moment and when he opened his eyes Draco Malfoy was standing before him, looking obviously amused, and maybe a bit curious.
'How can I help the great Harry Potter, defender of the wizarding world?'
Harry looked into the same silver-grey eyes he'd thought about just yesterday and blinked for a moment. By Merlin, he hoped that he wouldn't blush. To avoid those damned eyes he let his own travel over the man. A pristine, white shirt, which looked like it had just been ironed, underneath a black jacket, matching the trousers. The man looked impeccable. Like … he had a date? Harry's chest monster woke up and rumbled warningly.
Malfoy arched an eyebrow and that reminded Harry about his fantasy last night again and … Fuck! He felt his cheeks heat up and wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of this place.
'Look, Malfoy, I probably should've come sooner, but I – I recently remembered that your wand was still in my possession, so I just wanted to give it back. Sorry it took this long, but with all the after war business … you know …' Harry fumbled for the hawthorn wand while he rattled on.
'So now you're handing out memorabilia? I get to have my wand back from the great Harry Potter?' Malfoy scoffed. 'Well, you know what, I don't want it!'
'Don't be daft, Malfoy!' Harry second-guessed his decision to come here for the umpteenth time in as many minutes. 'It's your wand! You shouldn't have to live without one, just because Ollivander won't sell to you.' He hesitated a moment. 'Although, can you really blame him?'
Malfoy looked at Harry as if he were insane – well, even more than usual – and said with disdain: 'After all you've learned you honestly don't believe Ollivander is the only wand maker in the world, do you?' He shook his head in disbelief and told Harry: 'We went to Monsieur Arceneau in France right after the trials. He may not be as well-known as Ollivander in the British wizarding world, but he's just as good.'
'But … but I heard you didn't have a wand, and that you worked in a beauty salon?' Harry shook his head with incomprehension. Why would Malfoy work with Muggles if he didn't have to? Another thought crossed him mind. Why would Hermione nag me about returning this wand?
Suddenly he remembered the way she had looked sometimes when they'd discussed the issue. Like she knew something about him even he himself didn't. Oh no, damn you, Hermione Granger.
He groaned softly. 'Sorry to have bothered you then, Malfoy! Won't happen again!' He turned to leave, wanting to get away as soon as possible, but a hand grabbed his arm.
'Oh no, Potter. You can't just leave like that, without telling me everything about the latest gossip about me and my working environment.' Malfoy snapped his fingers and an old house-elf in a tablecloth appeared in an instant. While Harry tried to unravel Malfoy words – Did that mean he really worked at a beauty salon? – Malfoy gave the elf orders to serve tea in the drawing room.
'Wait,' Harry protested but the house-elf had already disappeared and Malfoy, his hand still on Harry's arm, guided him through the door and into the Manor.
Harry really didn't want to have tea with Malfoy, but he also didn't want to wrestle with someone who was smaller than him, and had only one wand against his two. And Hermione would certainly give him a scolding if he let that house-elf serve tea for nothing, wouldn't she?
So there he was, in the drawing room of Malfoy Manor, with Draco Malfoy who was pouring two cups of tea while he politely asked: 'Raspberry, white chocolate or black cherry, Potter?'
'What?' Harry asked, thoroughly confused.
'Raspberry, white chocolate or black cherry, Potter?' Malfoy waved his hand with a vibrant flourish at the side table. It was only then that Harry noticed an assortment of the most amazing looking cheesecakes he'd ever seen. This time it was his stomach that rumbled.
Malfoy snickered. 'Problems with a roaring lion, Potter?'
Only with a roaring chest monster. To keep away from that line of thoughts he stepped closer and took a better look.
The cheesecakes looked creamy, and smooth, and rich. Moist layers of cake and soft, fresh cheese were covered with fresh raspberries on one, and shiny black berries on another. But Harry's eyes were caught by the white chocolate cheesecake, which was swirled with chunks of dark chocolate bark, topped with white chocolate mousse and finished with chopped dark chocolate.
'Ah, the Chosen One has a taste for contrasts,' Malfoy said. 'Surprising, Potter, I would've pegged you for a raspberries kind of guy.' He levitated a respectable wedge of the white chocolate cheesecake onto a saucer and handed it over to Harry. After he had handed out the tea he sat down with his own cake. The chocolate cheesecake too, Harry noticed.
Still standing in the middle of the room, Harry sat down in the nearest arm chair. Unable to resist, he switched off the voice of Ron in his head that screamed: 'Poison!' and 'A snake will always be a snake' and took a bite.
An explosion of taste erupted in his mouth – crushed, buttered biscuit, the fresh cheese, the sweet white chocolate and the bitterness of the dark. A moan escaped before he could help it.
Malfoy looked up at him with an expression that Harry had never seen before.
He felt awkward and asked slightly defensively: 'What? It's good.'
'Of course it's good, you twit. Although I'm not surprised to hear it. Malfoy house-elves obviously have standards to uphold in whatever they serve to our guests,' Malfoy stated. He was looking like the arrogant sod that Harry remembered again.
Harry put up his hands in mock surrender and decided to remain silent. At least until he'd finished the cake.
They lapsed into silence while they ate their cheesecake and drank tea, which Harry found oddly comfortable. But eventually they were finished and when Harry looked up, Malfoy was watching him with interest. His eyebrow was raised as if to encourage Harry to talk.
'Malfoy,' Harry started, unsure of what he wanted to say. He still didn't know what he was doing here. It was very unsettling to say the least.
'Yeah, Potter?'
'Are you really working as a masseur in a beauty salon? A Muggle salon?' He blurted out, and immediately cursed his thoughts for sending him this way. Malfoy looked at him for a moment, a smile ghosted his lips.
'Is there something wrong with working as a masseur, Potter? Or do you think my hands are unworthy of touching anyone, be it wizard or Muggle?' His expression had changed from amused to guarded, and Harry hastened himself to deny that statement. But the thought of Malfoy's hands touching wizards and Muggles made his chest monster growl again.
'Because I can assure you, I am very good with my hands.' Something wicked suddenly crossed Malfoy's features. He stood up, walked over to Harry and offered his hand. Totally stunned, Harry let himself pull up.
'Come on, I'll show you the massage room and the relaxation area I have here at home.'
At home? Malfoy was working from the Manor, too? Massaging wizard clients near his rooms? Where they could easily take advantage of him?
Guided by the enraged inner beast and Malfoy's hand on his arm again, he let himself be lead through the Manor.
o~0~O~0~o
Tbc