Title: Being the Other Man
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters you see here. That belongs to JK Rowling and other wonderful people that are not me.
Warning: A bit of happiness, sadiness, and suggestivey ness. HD slash. Fattening snacks. Um...and attractive men?
Summary: It all began with biscuits and hot chocolate.
Author's Notes: I know my last story says that I'm just doing one shots for now...but as my zodiac sign suggests (Sagittarius anyone?), I am a spontanious person. I've been writing this story on and off for a while now and I'm going to see how it works out. This is really a story to see how I fair with writing a more lengthy sort of story. I will also mention that I Do Not Have a Beta. Therefore, it may be a little less than par. I'm doing my best to get better, so if you have any constructive criticism please let me know. The prologue is short because it's a prologue. Hopefully the chapters will be longer. With that said...
Being the Other Man
Many stories begin with an ambiguous phrase to set the tone. Perhaps one's beginning could be "It was chilly," or "There was a scent in the air". This story needs no ambiguous phrase. The reason being is this; Harry Potter was one happy son-of-a-gun (no artillery products were injured in the making of this character.) He could not be happier if he won a million dollars and had a swimming pool filled with pudding; though, depending on the pudding, that would also be a welcome addition to his happiness.
Voldemort was dead by Harry's wand. The Wizarding World was all coming back into order one step at a time. Tears had been shed, parties had been thrown, and Death Eaters were being rounded up. It was about six months until Harry could finally take a moment to sit in his newly bought and furnished flat and sleep a whole night without being ushered to a new festivity. After those six months, he'd blasted through Auror Training and a few years went by before he found himself even more reason to be happy to be alive. He had fallen in love.
"I swear, if you don't get your arse down here in the next five seconds, Potter, then I'm not going at all!"
Harry rushed down the stairs wearing his best "casually formal" wear: a powder-blue button down shirt, dark-blue jeans with a black, leather belt and his least worn-out trainers. It wasn't his fault that he took a little longer than the other had. He felt his lower half tingle in remembrance of the little tryst that had occurred less than ten minutes ago. When he looked at who was at the bottom of the stairs, he could barely be very irritated for very long. Draco Malfoy, his Auror partner and his lover, stared up at him with a sudden smirk on his lips. The blonde was standing in all of his glory, looking like the Adonis that he always was in his tightly-fitting black pants and shirt. The only color brought to the outfit was the necklace he wore of a small snake with a glimmering emerald as its eye.
"Draco, you promised you'd come anyway," Harry reminded him. "You can't back out of it this time."
"I don't know why you force me to go to these gatherings. The Weasleys dislike my presence just as much as I dislike theirs."
"Not true," Harry said, rolling his eyes. This was their routine conversation for every visit they made to The Burrow. "Come on now, you know you love them as much as they love you."
"Lies," Draco hissed, although he moved towards the Floo without so much as another word. Harry could not resist. "Oi! That is my arse you're grabbing!"
"Mhmmm," Harry agreed with a serene smile on his face as he slowly, gently kneaded the area.
"You get your hands off me right now, you cretin," Draco said, attempting to maneuver his escape from Harry's hands. Instead, the other let go of his bottom only to wrap his arms around his waist and pull him close.
"That wasn't very nice you know," Harry whispered in the other's ear. There was a lapse of silence before the other replied.
"What?"
"You always tease me, Draco," Harry explained, voice lilted with mischief. "Leaving me upstairs for me to clean up that mess you made." The normally pale cheeks pinked subtly with the knowledge of exactly what mess he'd made. Leaning forward to lick Draco's outer lobe, he smiled and breathed, "You know I'll have to make you pay for that don't you?"
Draco scoffed. "As if you could make me do anything, you dumb Gryffindor." Harry chuckled and wrapped his arms lower on the other's abdomen. He gently stroked the front of the blonde's black pants and if it weren't for the steady stiffening under his fingers, Harry would have thought the hand caused no effect. A gasp suddenly came out of those pale lips when Harry gave a rather determined squeeze, and pulled away with another chuckle.
"But I guess we'll have to wait 'til later for that. See you there, Draco." With a sound of utter indignation, Draco was pushed into the fireplace and the floo powder was thrown with the pronouncement of "The Burrow" from Harry and the other disappeared.
Grinning, Harry followed suit. He really couldn't be happier.
-----
They had broken up over biscuits and hot chocolate.
"What?" Harry asked, his mouth feeling so dry and his tongue so thick that even the simple word seemed difficult to come forth.
"I'm going away," Draco said coolly. His tone was irritating the hell out of Harry, who watched as the blonde simply bit on his second biscuit and chewed it thoughtfully. Harry's mind felt blank and overflowing at the same time, and he was finding it suddenly hard to breathe.
"How long?" Harry asked, with a swimming head and a slowly constricting heart.
Draco looked up at him, cocking his head slightly as he assuaged the other man's reaction.
"Long enough," he said quietly. "Long enough." After taking a sip of his drink he placed it slowly down on the table before bringing his gaze back up to Harry's again.
Harry's tongue felt like it was taking up his entire mouth, but no sips of hot chocolate seemed to help the swelling, nor did it help his muddled mind. It felt achingly slow as he stood and moved towards the cabinet, fetching a glass and filling it up with water. He downed the glass and though his stomach felt like lead, his mouth still seemed restricted.
"Long enough for what?" he asked finally, unable to smoothen his rough voice or lessen the grip of his jaw. Draco didn't reply, and Harry repeated his question. "Long enough for what, Draco?"
Draco stood, not even looking at Harry anymore, choosing instead to direct his eyes out the window that was letting in the deceiving sunshine. Harry had thought that the sunlight meant only good things happening today. Oh fate, how you wound with thy cruel sting. To his continuing dismay, Draco did not seem far too uncomfortable other than the occasional twitch of his left hand. "Isn't there that Oliver fellow that you're around all the time?" Draco asked suddenly. "He's quite a catch isn't he? Bent as a corkscrew, he is. I'm sure he wouldn't mind screwing the Boy Who Lived."
What was sure to be a play on words only wounded Harry further. It was as if Draco was slowly slicing into Harry; small, precise measurements that would eventually lead to his utter ruin. Unsure what to do with his hands or his feet, Harry found himself leaning against the counter along the sink. Crossing his arms, Harry asked the inevitable question with a shaky voice. "Why?"
Draco acted as if he hadn't heard it. "I plan on going all over the world," he said with forced bravado. "Maybe finding Professor Snape and helping him with his search for more potent ingredients for his potions. Then again maybe I'll do something else. I've always wanted to visit the Seven Wonders of the World. The magic surrounding them are supposedly overpowering."
Harry's blank, swimming confusion soon turned into irritation at the avoidance of his question. "Draco?" he asked, hoping to sound stern and forceful when, in all honesty, he probably sounded confused and distressed.
His (ex?) lover was still not giving him his gaze. With a sigh, Draco replied, "It doesn't matter why. The fact that I am leaving," he took a deep breath, that didn't seem to give him any difficulty the emotionless bastard, "and I don't plan on returning."
But it did matter why, Harry thought. No one just up and left for no reason. Whenever people left anything it was for a reason and as Draco's avoidance of the subject and his gaze continued, the reason began to ferment before his eyes. Green eyes narrowed.
"Who is he?" he asked softly. The slightest tremble of the blonde's lip was enough confirmation for him. He repeated his question and Draco began turning towards the door. "You will not leave until you tell me who you're leaving me for!"
"I can't tell you," Draco said through gritted teeth, turning sharply to face Harry again. Not expecting such a reaction, Harry stepped back in surprise. It was silent for a few moments.
"Do you love him?" Harry asked, cursing his voice for cracking. Draco sighed.
"It's complicated."
Harry wanted to scream, kick, punch, anything to alleviate this feeling in his chest. It was a burning, constricting feeling that he never wanted to feel again. Tears were beginning to form in his eyes as he watched his cold, detached lover of the past two years just stand there, without even looking at him. He wanted to grab him, thrash him, kiss him until he saw reason and stayed. Feeling his own hands clenching until the knuckles were white and his breath was rattling his chest, he could do nothing but watch him. "Look at me," he said in a forcefully quiet way. Slowly, Draco did, and Harry could see the emotionless grey pools staring back at him. All the love and attention Harry had poured into that body and soul; all the time and the patience he could provide were exterminated from those eyes that stared at him with calm indifference. Those eyes looking so cruelly composed and apathetically at him wounded him far more than any of Draco's cruel words could. With a slow nod, Harry backed down from that gaze.
"Go."
Harry did not get to see the look of mild surprise at the surrender. "Potter, I-,"
"I said go." Harry whispered, feeling the tears brimming in his eyes. He heard rather than saw the other smoothly move out of the room, leaving him alone with two mugs of cooling hot chocolate and one half eaten biscuit. It was only a few minutes before he heard the crack of Apparation, and but a few seconds after that he could feel the crack of his own breaking heart. He let the tears fall.