Be Careful What You Wish For - Part 2

At the end of a long corridor Malfoy opened a door and gestured for Harry to enter. Since he was already in the proverbial snake pit Harry thought 'why not?' and stepped inside. Whatever he'd been expecting, this wasn't it. The room was divided by a wall to wall curtain, which hid the right side of the room. On the left side was a nice sitting area with a fireplace. Instead of lavender, the room was decorated in different shades of creams and ivory. It looked elegant, yet cosy.

There were two more doors, one on his left side, suggesting another room, and one right in front of him, which stood open and gave him a glimpse of the outdoors.

Harry expected Malfoy to show him what was behind the curtain but the man surprised him again by crossing the room and stepping outside, through the open door. He stared at Malfoy in obvious confusion. Was he playing tricks with Harry? First he didn't want his wand back, then he wouldn't let him leave but served him tea and cake, and now, after a tour about the Manor, he wanted Harry to go outside instead of showing him his working area?

And why was Harry playing along? As Ron would say: 'Well, you did your best, mate. You offered him his wand and he refused. Nothing more to it, right?' And even Hermione wouldn't understand why he hadn't left already. But they didn't have that bloody chest monster, did they? There was also that embarrassing event last night, and even though he totally blamed the Firewhiskey, he doubted that Ron had done the same thing. Or Hermione. He shuddered and felt something claw on the inside. It was clearly a mistake to have headed down that train of thought.

'Do you think you're finally able to move forwards or should I send Dipsy for some Mandrake Draught?'

He scowled at Malfoy, but the man arched his eyebrow again which rendered Harry speechless. It must be Dark Magic, he thought desperately.

When he reached the door, Malfoy turned on his heel and headed outside. Harry followed, trying to regain his composure in the meantime. But the sight that met his eyes left him stand rooted on the spot. This was the relaxation area?

Surrounded by all kinds of exotic plants, in the middle of a small wood-panelled terrace, was a hot tub. Made from cedar, it surely was a thing of beauty. The rich colours and grains in the wood were simply stunning.

The steam exuded a wonderful scent. It drew Harry closer and without conscious thought he stepped onto the wooden steps, wondering how many clients had sat in that hot, steaming water, and if Malfoy had joined him.

Something large and scaly erupted in Harry's stomach again and a sudden madness got hold of him. Nobody was allowed to bathe with Malfoy, to see all of that smooch, pale skin, and watch how much his blond hair would change from silvery to gold when it was wet.

'Be my guest.'

Distracted by images of a hot and wet Malfoy, he was startled when the man suddenly stood behind him. He turned around abruptly and slipped on the wet wood. Next thing he knew, he was in the hot tub. Mysteriously, he hadn't hurt himself, except for his neck, which was killing him again due to the abrupt movement. He groaned while grabbing his neck.

'Did you bump your head?' Malfoy asked.

Harry looked up expecting to see one of Malfoy's mocking sneers. Instead, all he saw was a soft inquisitive expression. The wand in his hand explained Harry's soft landing.

'...'

'Come on, let's have a look then,' Malfoy said, and for the second time that day he offered his hand. Harry took a steadying breath and let his eyes wander over Malfoy's impeccable outfit for a second. It would be very satisfying to mess it up, but maybe it wasn't a very smart idea; the two of them in a hot tub. His monster begged to differ, but he ignored it. Malfoy, however, seemed to agree.

'Don't you dare, Potter!' he warned him. 'This is a silken shirt and it will be ruined beyond repair if it gets in hot water.'

It was tempting, but Harry managed to control himself. He let Malfoy help him out of the hot tub. Soaking wet he looked at Malfoy, who watched him with vigilance but smirked nonetheless.

'Come on. It wouldn't do for a Malfoy to let the Chosen One catch a cold.' As he turned to head for the door, Harry couldn't help but notice that Malfoy's trousers were clearly tailor fitted.

'Have a seat,' Malfoy said as soon as Harry stepped into the room again and he pointed to one of the chairs in front of the fireplace.

'I can't sit there,' Harry protested, 'I'll wet it and ruin the fabric.'

Malfoy rolled his eyes. 'Ever heard of a Drying Spell, Potter? The perks of being a wizard, you know?' Impatiently, he pointed again. 'Or should I consider that proof of the fact that you did indeed bump your head?'

Harry shook his head and cringed when pain shot from his neck to just behind his right eye. He stopped arguing; he was wet and getting more cold by the minute and it felt as if someone was sticking burning needles through his right eye. So he sat down, with his soggy trousers on the expensive arm chair.

'Potter!' Malfoy exclaimed, in a shocked voice.

Startled, Harry jumped up again. Green eyes shot wildly through the room. 'What?'

Malfoy sighed in desperation: 'I meant your clothes, Potter, not the chair.' He took his wand and cast the spell himself, on Harry, and on the chair.

When Harry didn't move immediately, Malfoy rolled his eyes and said: 'Come, I can't look to see whether you've hurt yourself if you won't sit down.'

Although Harry was grateful for his dry clothes, he couldn't let Malfoy think he could boss him around, therefore he replied: 'Ah, that's right, you're too short to look down on me, aren't you?'

Malfoy went to stand behind him and took Harry's head surprisingly gently in his hands, before Harry heard him say: 'Has no one ever told you, size really doesn't matter?'

Harry wanted to react but it was hard enough to try and keep his emotions in check when he felt Malfoy's fingers combing through his hair in search for a bruise or swelling.

The gentle massaging of his scalp reminded him of Malfoy's work and his eyes strayed over to the area that was hidden behind the curtain.

'How often do you treat patients at home?'

Harry tried to keep his monster at bay but knew he had failed when Malfoy's hands stilled and he asked: 'Jealous much, Potter?'

Harry could almost hear a blond eyebrow crawl upwards. 'No, yes, well, of course not,' he denied half-heartedly. 'I just think you ought to watch out for people who might have an ulterior motive for wanting a massage. Some might even have bad intentions.'

His breath caught when Malfoy leaned over and asked devilishly: 'Do I look like I can't handle a single, ill-intentioned witch or wizard?'

The clean, citrus scent from an expensive cologne wafted towards Harry's nose. The smell was tempting and begged him to come closer. It moved to his brains and short-circuited his ability to talk. Instead he shook his head.

'Fuck!'

A scorching pain travelled from the jaw line to the side of the head, followed by the hot needle-like pain behind his eye. He rubbed the side of his face. Putting some pressure on his temples seemed to help. Malfoy stepped from behind the chair.

'What's wrong, Potter?'

'It's nothing, really,' Harry said. 'There's this kink in my neck because I fell asleep on the couch last night.' At the same moment he felt his face warm up when he remembered just why and how he'd been in that position.

Of course Malfoy immediately did that stupid thing with his eyebrow and Harry wanted to give him an annoyed look but to his horror, he discovered that he was getting aroused.

'I presume you don't want to explain why you'd found yourself to be in that predicament?' Malfoy smirked before he got serious.

'That pain is almost certainly caused by the muscle problems in your neck. Sleeping in such a posture will strain the muscles without a doubt. It's a good thing I'm known for my skilful hands then. Right, Potter? I can work those specific muscles to reduce the spasm which causes the pain.'

While Harry was still trying to soothe the grumbling in his chest, in order to understand those words, Malfoy summoned a large, strange looking device. He then pulled Harry out of the armchair and waved shortly with his wand.

Harry squeaked with an embarrassingly high voice when all of a sudden he was naked, with the exception of his pants.

'What the hell, Malfoy?' Harry yelled, looking around in bewilderment for his Vanished clothes.

'Oh hush, Potter,' Malfoy said. He grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him towards that … thing. 'You come here asking questions about my massages and my clients, but when I'm about to put my hands on you, you act like a prim Hufflepuff girl.'

He pushed Harry onto one of the leather covered cushions the device seemed to be made of and pressed gently between Harry's shoulder blades, until Harry was half laying with his face downwards, staring at the floor through a cushioned ring. He didn't know what was more disturbing; the way Malfoy talked or his hands touching Harry's naked skin.

He wanted to get up, but was afraid he'd be revealing more than he already had; there was only so much his pants could confine.

'Just kidding, Potter. Relax, I know what I'm doing,' Malfoy said, and then he put his hands on Harry for real. They were warm against his cool skin and started treating his neck muscles. It didn't take long before he did , indeed, relax. He tried to forget that it was Malfoy who gave him a massage, but didn't succeed, so instead he just put up with it.

Malfoy had been right, Harry thought few minutes later. He certainly did know what he was doing. Worried that his chest monster would interrupt the comforting treatment, Harry tried to focus on anything but the question of what could have caused such expertise.

Instead he asked lazily: 'Why don't you want your wand back?'

The hands stilled only for a nanosecond. 'It doesn't belong to me anymore, Potter. It wouldn't listen to me as well as it used to do. Besides –' He hesitated a moment. '– I don't want to be reminded every day about the things that wand did.'

That was something Harry could understand. He remained silent as Malfoy collected his thoughts.

He applied more pressure to the muscles, but it wasn't painful. In fact it was anything but. Malfoy chuckled when a blissful groan escaped his throat. Harry expected a 'Told you so' but the man just went on kneading and moulding his back muscles until Harry felt like putty in his hands. And why was that thought not as repelling as it should be?

The needles in his head where replaced by a fuzzy feeling.

He didn't even protest when Malfoy manoeuvred him around so he sat with his back to the cushion, and adjusted the headrest so Harry's head was lying comfortable again. It wasn't until Malfoy started talking, that Harry realized the vulnerable position he was now in.

'My, my, someone's happy to see me!'

Harry struggled to get up from that blasted massage chair, which wouldn't have been easy, even if Malfoy hadn't put his hands on Harry's chest and pushed him back. The traitorous monster laid down and purred.

Harry almost did the same when Malfoy leaned in and whispered against his ear: 'Hush, Harry, just let me do my job.'

The sound of his first name still echoed in his ear as those skilful hands continued the massage of his shoulders. It rendered him speechless. Harry? Mighty Morgana, what was going on here?

Malfoy was standing between his legs, and his face was so close Harry could feel his breath on his face, and those silver-grey eyes just looked at him as he put pressure on Harry's muscles … It was almost the same as his fantasy last night, and it was too much. Some voice in his head screamed that he should end this. Unfortunately, all his thoughts were lost in the pleasurable haze that was the caressing of Malfoy's hands over his chest. He was getting more and more aroused and to his utmost horror a tiny moan left his lips.

He saw surprise and triumph flitting in the depths of Malfoy's eyes before he closed his own in embarrassment. Expecting a humiliating comment, he was completely flabbergasted when he felt thumbs caressing his nipples. His heart skipped over and then was racing again. So fast he felt dizzy, and so, in order to prevent himself falling off the chair, he grabbed Malfoy's upper arms to steady himself.

When he opened his eyes, Malfoy was staring at him, searchingly. Harry had no idea what he was looking for, so he just returned the look.

Apparently Malfoy found something, because the next moment he stepped closer so their bodies touched, and crashed their mouths together. Malfoy. Was. Kissing. Him!

Malfoy's hungry kisses and his firm body pressed against him made Harry succumb immediately. There was no possible way to fight this. Years of hating the Slytherin, yet obsessing over him at the same time, fuelled his own response.

Harry's hands trembled as he tried to part Malfoy from his clothing. It wasn't an easy task in his half laying position. He proceeded to unbutton Malfoy's shirt while Malfoy kissed his way down Harry's chest.

While he undid Malfoy's button and zip, Malfoy cradled Harry's bollocks through his pants. As trousers and pants pooled around Malfoy's feet, he stepped out of them and kicked them across the room. Impatiently, Harry lifted his hips to get freed from the tight fabric. Instead of helping him, Malfoy pulled him out of the chair and tugged Harry's pants down.

Even better, Harry decided, after Malfoy had drawn Harry's body towards his. The feel of Malfoy's erection pressing against his own was simply amazing, even –

'Brilliant!' Harry panted.

'Yeah!' Malfoy breathed. 'But … we should … bedroom.'

'Brilliant!' Harry repeated. 'Where?'

Malfoy pointed towards the only door Harry hadn't entered, and they started shuffling in that direction, all the while kissing and touching each other.

As soon as they got through the door, Harry crashed their bodies together, shoving Malfoy's hips against the door. His mouth hurriedly closed over Malfoy's.

Their tongues were sliding against each other for what felt like hours and then Harry managed to say: 'Bed.'

It was fortunate that the Slytherin was quite intelligent and understood him so well, thought Harry, when they shuffled towards a four-poster bed. As they stumbled onto it, Harry climbed on top of Malfoy, dizzy from lust. Draco arched his hips, grinding his erection into Harry's.

'Oh, yes,' Harry moaned. 'Fuck, Draco!'

When he heard his given name, Draco gasped into Harry's mouth. His hands had found their way to Harry's arse and he squeezed. Harry could feel his blood pulsing in his crotch, when Draco's voice – barely a gasp – started chanting Harry's name.

'Harry, oh gods, Harry!'

Frantically, they rocked together, until they found their much needed release.

o~0~O~0~o

Afterwards, they lay on their backs, sticky and breathless, trying to catch some air.

Harry was wide-eyed in astonishment. Although there where certain muscles that felt a little uncomfortable, the ones in his neck were not amongst them.

'Is this the way you treat all your clients? Not that I'm a client or something,' he said. 'I didn't know what to expect, it was my first time after all. '

'You were a virgin?' Malfoy asked, shocked.

'NO! I mean, it was my first massage.'

'Ah!'

'So, do you? Treat your clients this way, I mean,' Harry repeated. He knew it was a silly question, stupid even, but he had to know how Draco would answer.

Draco turned towards him. He didn't seem insulted, like Harry would've expected, but he smiled a little. His mouth was swollen and Harry wanted nothing more than to kiss him again. Draco must have sensed it, because his eyes turned a molten silver again. He leaned in and softly pressed his mouth against Harry's lips. But before Harry could deepen the kiss, Draco leaned back and said: 'No, I don't. I've never invited anyone in here.'

Harry didn't know what to make of that statement and his chest monster was confused.

'So, why do you have that special chair?'

Draco exhaled slowly before he answered. 'It's for mother,' he said. 'Ever since the war she's been having these neck pains and headaches and the Healers at St. Mungo's won't treat Death Eaters, so I studied Muggle treatments, learned some massage techniques and set up that room.' He gestured towards the door they had come through. 'Father doesn't know.' He added.

Harry was stunned that Draco trusted him enough to share something so personal with him. In a way it felt even more intimate than sharing his body. A warm feeling flooded inside his body. Emotions, that were still small and fragile, but could become something more, found there way from his toes to his fingertips.

He, too, turned sideways and reached out until the tips of his fingers touched Draco's shoulder. He let them slide over the pale skin to his hand.

'That isn't right,' he said. 'The hospital shouldn't let any witch or wizard down who's in need of treatment! I'll see if I can do something – '

He was silenced by Draco's finger against his lips.

'You're still trying to save the world, right? Or at least the people you think, need rescuing. That's actually what I was counting on.'

The admission surprised Harry. He looked into those silver-grey eyes and asked: 'Why?'

'Who do you think sent an invitation for a free treatment on a certain date, to the Muggle cousin of one of your Gryffindor friends?'

What? Harry tried to read Malfoy's expression but the man just stared at him without giving anything away. He didn't know what to make of it. It was unnerving.

'But …' he started, '… but how did you know Dean would go with her?' But then he remembered the girl has lost all her relatives in the war during a Death Eater raid. 'Oh.' He berated himself for asking and tried to retain his composure. Malfoy was still watching him.

'So … you thought I would try to save your mother, didn't you? Or maybe save you from working at a beauty salon?' Harry asked with a hint of curiosity colouring his voice.

'Seems I was right, wasn't I?' Malfoy sounded smug, but, to his surprise, Harry detected a little insecurity underneath it.

He smiled and intertwined their fingers. 'Yes, you were,' he answered.

Slowly, they started drifting to sleep, their bodies fitted against each other.

'Why didn't you stop working in the salon, once you learned the massage techniques?' Harry asked all of a sudden.

'Why, Harry, I don't recall admitting to be working there.' Draco sounded amused.

What? Harry's eyes flew open. The monster inside him roared its approval.

'I happen to be the co-owner of the place,' Draco said in a smug tone.

The end