Pour Vos Yeux Seulement: For Your Eyes Only

Pour Vos Yeux Seulement: For Your Eyes Only

SUMMARY: Several years after Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy has found himself at one of the top universities for magic in Paris. While living in a small apartment above a coffee shop, he, on a cold, wintry day, bumps into a one Harry Potter, who is running away from his life in Britain.

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Et aujourd'hui il me semble que tout le monde doit apprendre

Qu'il y a des choses plus grandes, les douleurs plus profondes dans ce monde

L'imagination doit pas etre feconde a comprendre et confondre ce monde

Avec les plafonds de l'enfer

-Speechwriters LLC


Chapitre Un

December 15, 2006

He wanted to feel like Britain wasn't the same without him—that he wasn't the same person without Britain. There was a refreshing change in Draco that made his stay in France worthwhile. He was attending one of France's most competitive and selective magical institutions in the entire world, and it was his final year there.

Despite his many changes, Draco mainly kept to himself instead of making friends. The social network at the school was a thing that Draco avoided, instead finding refuge in the café he worked at. Where some young students would be afraid to roam around Paris at night, Draco took full advantage of it, believing that one must study all of Paris at any time of the day. He wasn't afraid of getting mugged—no, that fear was long gone after five years. The café—he lived there, above Jacques's Café. Jacques sold the best coffee in all of France, and was a lovely pastry baker, too. He worked alone, and Draco usually helped him keep order in the evening when the older man grew too tired to stand on his feet all day.

Having nearly slipped in the snow on his way home, Draco was in the foulest of moods. He had just left his Chemistry class; a muggle class offered at L'institut. Having finished taking his exam, and welcoming the Yule break with a happy smile, Draco was ready to head home. However, in a matter of minutes, the smile was whipped from his face.

He had bumped into Dorian.

"Dorian!" Draco exclaimed, his grey eyes growing wide with shock. "Mon dieu! Where the hell have you been?"

"Draco, ah…" Dorian started, looking around. "I have been very busy with Professor Tenor's class. Are you well?"

"Oui, Je vais bien, merci. But I've missed you," Draco said softly, moving to push the hair out of Dorian's blue eyes. He was tall, muscular, and beautiful. His long brown hair fell into his eyes, making him look younger than his 23 years of age.

"Draco, I am sorry…but I have a prior engagement. I have to go," he said quickly, moving from his touch.

"What? I have hardly seen you in a month, and all you can say is sorry, 'you have to go?'" Draco shouted, his eyes becoming stormy. A group of students who were passing looked at them with curious eyes.

"Draco…not now, vous m'humiliez!" he hissed. You humiliate me!

"I DON'T CARE!" Draco roared, pushing Dorian back. "What the hell is wrong with you? I've called, you don't pick up, I've talked to your flat mate, and he—" Draco flung his fist forward "—says you're out!" he cried. He kept throwing punches of which Dorian avoided.

"As-tu perdu votre tête?" Have you lost your mind? "Stop it!" he shouted, grabbing hold of Draco's flying fists. "It's over, Draco!" he shouted. Draco had froze, his wrists clasped tightly in Dorian's iron hold.

"What?"

"It's over, no more! FINISHED!" he shouted in Draco's face. "I have been meaning to tell you, but I was too worried for your state-of-being. I can no longer be with you! I'm breaking up with you!"

"But…pour quoi?"

"Vous avez beaucoup de mal à votre coeur! Je ne vous aime plus!" Dorian hissed, pushing Draco away from him. "You're so damn cruel, it makes me sick!" he shouted. The corridor grew quiet as the students watched the unfurling breakup. "C'est vraiment de ta faute!"

"IT IS NOT MY FAULT!" Draco howled, pushing Dorian back. "I am not evil, and you do love me!"

"NO MORE!" he retaliated. "I don't love you anymore, Draco!"

It was then that Draco broke into tears. Dorian was his first real love since he moved to France. It was quiet, scary, and lonely for Draco when he was a freshman at the L'institut. He had met Dorian in the corridor, looking for his first class. He was fluent in French, and was able to communicate his problems to the young, bashful boy of 19 years at the time. Draco was only 18, fresh from Hogwarts, and open to new love. He had realized in his younger years that he only felt romantically for men, but often indulged himself with women when needed to maintain his reputation at Hogwarts.

"But…I love you…" Dorian looked away from Draco's tearful face.

"I'm sorry, Draco."

"You can't be that sorry to have done this."

--

Now, as Draco slipped his way home, his eyes burning with tears and the wind stinging his face, he realized that he had yet again became a failure. He had vowed that day he left the Malfoy Manor, his bags and luggage laying on the steps, his pride at its peak, and his mother and Godfather standing in the door frame that he would indeed become the best potion maker in the Wizarding world, and that he'd also learn how to love in France. He was denied the opportunity to love someone, and here, in France, he would find a lover, take him, and make him his.

Oh, how he failed.

"Merde," Draco swore, opening the door to Jacques's shop. He was a tall man, in his late fifties. He had sparkling salt and pepper hair, a nicely trimmed goatee, and warm brown eyes that danced with excitement whenever possible. He was wiping down the counter with a rag when Draco had entered the shop. His white-blond hair was in disarray, his cheeks red from the icy winds, and dried trails of tears running down the boy's sore cheeks.

"My darling, you look so sad," the old man said. He watched as Draco took his usual seat in the far corner. Because it was Yule Break, no one came running into Jacques's shop this early in the afternoon.

"I am."

"Peut-être," the man started, "vous êtes triste pour votre chéri, oui?" Perhaps you are sad for your darling, yes? Draco turned a pained expression to Jacques's aging face.

"Ah, Jacques, if only you knew!" Draco exclaimed. "I am so tired of this…merde!" Draco swore, slamming his fist onto the wobbly table. Jacques came from around the booth, a pot of lovely smelling hot chocolate in his hands. He conjured a mug and sat it before Draco, carefully pouring him a cup.

"You poor boy, tell me what the bastard did this time," he said, taking a seat across from Draco.

Draco frowned. "He said…he said…'vous avez beaucoup de mal à votre coeur!' You have much evil in your heart! And then he left. He left me feeling very tiny, with an even tinier heart, monsieur."

"The boy was an imbécile, Draco! There is no foulness in that warm heart of your, mon chéri," Jacques said softly, placing a hand over Draco's.

"Am I so incapable to find love, Jacques? Am I too much of a fool, to have ventured out to Paris to become something I could not accomplish in Britain?"

"Draco, don't say such horrible things," the man whispered. "You are a brilliant boy, with many prospects here in Paris. You will find love here, mon garçon. Everyone does. Someone is waiting for you, je promets," he said with a smile.

"Merci beaucoup Jacques, I trust you with my life, you know that."

"Oui, mon chéri, I do."

"You're like a father to me, a father I never had."

"Oui, I know." He smiled at Draco. There was a soft ringing from the door and they both turned to see a tall young boy walking into the shop. He had a traveler's bag on his back, a red jumper and dark denim jeans. His puffy coat gave away the fact that he was still very cold, and his wild, shaggy black hair was in so much disarray, a comb would not help it.

"Oh, bloody hell," the boy said, shifting around in his pocket as he pulled out a small dictionary. He looked at the little bulletin board Jacques had hanging from the wall behind the counter. He swore again as he flipped through the pages. "What the hell is a gâteau?"

"It is a cake," Jacques called from his seat. "And I have plenty of cake, if you are hungry," he said with a laugh. "I also have coffee, hot chocolate, cold or warm milk, cappuccino and much, much more if you need to know," he said, standing and walking over to the counter. The boy's eyes went wide with happiness.

"Oh, sir, I would like that very much. I'm famished!" he said. Draco discarded his coat on the seat and stood to help Jacques with the boy's order.

"Thank you, Draco. You can get the cake, and I will get the young man some coffee."

"Oh, can you make it tea, please? I don't drink coffee…" he said. Draco and Jacques stopped midway in what they were doing and gave the boy a shocking stare.

"Have you ever tried coffee?" Draco asked his eyebrows quirked up in amusement, his tone light and inviting.

"Why, yes, of course!" the boy said in confusion. "It just tastes awful to me, way too strong."

"But you have never tried my coffee," Jacques said. "It is the best in the whole, wide world." The boy looked uncertain, and turned his light hazel eyes to Draco.

"You should definitely try it," Draco said with a smile. "You won't regret it, est magnifique!" he exclaimed with a chuckle.

"All right then," the boy said, giving a slight shrug and embarrassed smile. Draco rolled up the sleeves to his black turtleneck and moved over to where the cakes were in a glass stand. He bent down and peered into the window, where he was met by the young boy's gaze at the opposite side. Draco stood upright, now holding a platter of freshly baked chocolate cake.

"Would you like to sample it?" Draco asked in a soft voice. "Jacques just made it, and I can tell you, it is very delicious…"

"I would love to," he said, his eyes lit with excitement. Draco pulled out a small plate, a cake knife, and cut the young man a small piece, giving it to him with a cake fork. When he had popped it into his mouth, the boy closed his eyes and moaned.

"This is amazing!" he cried. Jacques had joined Draco, standing beside him to watch the boy's beautiful face scrunch up in pure ecstasy. "Like magic!" the boy said. "I've never tasted something this amazing," he said. "Can I have a huge piece, please? How much is it?"

"For you, dear boy, free," Jacques said, placing a steaming mug in front of the boy on the counter.

"Re-really?" he stuttered. "Oh, I couldn't please—"

"Don't mention it! You are new to Paris, oui?"

"I am. I'm visiting for Christmas break, actually. I'm new at the University of London."

"Ah, you are just a child, how old are you, are you traveling alone?" Jacques asked his eyes wide with pity. The boy blushed.

"I'm eighteen, sir. And yes, I am traveling alone."

"I'm from Britain," Draco piped up. He smiled at the boy, who looked relived to have been saved from Jacques's pitying eyes.

"Oh, brilliant! Are…are you busy? Would…would you like to sit and chat?" he asked shyly. Draco shook his head.

"No, I'd love to sit with you," he said. Jacques smiled knowingly as he watched Draco come from behind the counter with the boy's cake, and sit across from him at a table against the wall. They faced each other.

"So, what's your name?" Draco asked, smiling at the boy as he ate his cake.

"Matthew, Matthew Winthrop," the boy said. "What's your full name, Draco?" he asked.

"Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," he replied.

"What a unique name," Matthew said. "I've never heard it before. What are you doing in France?"

"I'm studying here," Draco said as his eyes transfixed on the boy's beautiful face. His face was young, warm, and boyish. It reminded Draco of his youth, exciting and adventurous. It was written all over this boy. Matthew looked up from his cake to see Draco's intense stare. He smiled.

"What are you studying?"

"Chemistry," Draco responded, snapping from out of his trance. "I'm a senior, actually."

"Oh, chemistry, you must be very patient," Matthew said.

"I guess you can say that, but why?" Draco asked.

"Well," Matthew started, taking a sip from the coffee mug. He released a groan from the back of his throat. "This is…my god…" Draco grinned.

"It's magnificent, yes!" Draco finished for him. Matthew nodded.

"Well, Chemistry, to me anyways, is a very hard subject. You have to be good in math, you have to take time out to learn formulas, you have to…sacrifice yourself to tedious letters, digits, and vocabulary," he said, putting down his mug. Draco laughed.

"None of that is tedious to me, I adore it. What are you studying at the University?"

"Oh, I'm studying Writing."

"Oh, a young writer in the making," Draco said playfully. "You must be very creative." Matthew beamed.

"I like to think I am," he said with a shy smile. "You're very handsome, if…if…you don't mind me saying." Matthew had suddenly become very nervous, diverting his eyes from Draco's as he finished his cake. Draco smiled, surprised by the young boy's comment.

"Merci, Matthew. I think you're handsome too."

--

Matthew did not leave until very late. Jacques himself had retired to his room in the back of the shop, and Draco had entertained Matthew with various topics, having passed their small talk phrase. When Draco had led the young boy to the front of the shop, opening the door, Matthew had turned around and kissed Draco fully on the lips. Draco's hand slid from the doorknob, finding its way into Matthew's hair. After a while, the boy drew back and smiled at Draco uncertainly, searching his eyes for a response.

"That was…very nice," Draco sighed happily.

"Maybe we could get dinner sometime," Matthew said.

"I would like that," Draco started. "Would you like my number?"

"I would love it."

With Draco's number safely stored in Matthew's blackberry, the boy left the shop. Draco closed up, using his wand to place a strong anti-break-in charm for extra protection. He walked up the steps to his apartment upstairs, a small smile on his lips. Earlier, he felt drained, old, and extremely sad. But now, it was as if that kiss from the young, energetic boy, had given Draco strength and happiness to live off of for a while. He opened his apartment's door and entered the small sitting area. Only a few stairs separated the sitting area from the kitchen, where there was a nice sized oven, fridge, and sink, and space to sit a nice sized table for two in the middle. Pass the kitchen was the bathroom, and then his room. The walls were painted mustard yellow in his room. When he had first moved in, he hated the color. He missed the dark, perfection of his room at the Manor, and even his dungeon-like room at Hogwarts. This bright room, he thought then, would kill him.

But he had come to love it. The long, oval shaped windows poured in morning sunshine every day, and he had gotten a lovely, cherry-wood frame for his bed, with dark blue bed sheets. He had a small telly in the corner, and a whole wall was dedicated to books, shelves that reached the ceiling. The same was for his sitting room; a wall was dedicated to Draco's books. He had a small phone sitting besides his telly, and his own cellular phone was sitting on his bedside table. Draco had become very familiar with muggle culture after Hogwarts, realizing that he would immerse himself in this culture.

He opened his closet door and pulled out his bathrobe, deciding that he could use a nice warm shower. After spending about fifteen minutes in the shower, Draco went into his kitchen, clad in shorts and a comfortable red t-shirt that clashed horribly with his hair; he opened his fridge and drank from his container of milk, pulling out two cookies from his storage cabinet. He ate quietly; thinking about the hurt Dorian had set in him, only to remember that he would soon be having a nice date with the lovely British boy, Matthew. He then retired to his room to sleep, promising himself to wake up before Jacques, and open the shop for him. It would be a nice way to start off his Yule break.


Thank you! What do you think? I will be updating this story at a leisurely pace, because I'm writing…oh…five other stories. I might put a couple on hold just so I can update this story regularly. So please keep watch. It's my second DM/HP story. But this one will by far be my favorite one to write. Okay, so constructive criticism is accepted, please, no flames. So, just to let you all in, I don't speak French, aside from what I grasped from my dad (who is very fluent in French). But I can't sit there and ask him for everything, so I've been doing some research. But just remember, I add the French to make the story more real, so excuse the grammar/conversion mistakes if you, yourself, are a French speaker.

And yes, this story is a DM/HP fic. We're meeting our new Draco Malfoy, so of course it will take some time until we see our superhero Harry. This is a romantic story, so there won't be crazy situations revolving around sex, lies, and death. Just...romance.

Please leave your precious reviews, because they are all so very, very dear to me.

- Mlle P.