Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any part of the HP fandom. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made from this story. At all. Also, all characters depicted in sexual situations are of age.
Title: The Secret Life of Draco Malfoy
Author: icicle33
Rating: M (in future chapters)
Word Count: ~25 K in all (2200 words in this chapter)
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco and mentions of Harry/OMC and Draco/OMC
Warnings: Post War AU, Dracocentric, contains a past relationship and breakup between Harry and Draco, lots of adult language (Draco never learnt to control his tongue), humour and flangst, m/m sex (eventually)
Summary: After the war, Draco was ousted from the wizarding world. With a little bit of luck and the help of some good friends, Draco becomes a successful veterinarian in the Muggle world. His life was slowly starting to come together again―that is―until Harry Potter shows up at his clinic with a sick cat.
Author's Notes: Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed and followed so far! I really appreciate it and am so glad you are enjoying it. Thanks again to my wonderful beta, ashiiblack. This part is a little shorter than the last but there's a reason for it, and the next part will be longer.
Enjoy.
Present day...
~8~8~8~
Thirty-seven. Thirty-eight. Thirty-nine.
Draco paced around his flat, counting the thirty-nine steps it took him to walk around his living room and kitchen table. It seemed like it was all he did lately. Harold was cuddled in a ball on the couch, hiding one eye behind a throw pillow and staring at Draco with the other. He knew that his pacing made Harold uncomfortable; the poor dog was extremely susceptible to Draco's ever-changing moods, but he couldn't help it. Antonio was late coming home. Again.Three times that week, he'd been out with Potter and it was making Draco mental.
How could this happen? There was no way in hell that Potter and Antonio were compatible. Antonio was so clean-cut, immaculate, punctual, articulate. He had perfect hair and actually ironed his clothes. Potter, on the other hand, was a disgrace. He had horrid clothes, dreadful hair. The idiot could barely string two sentences together, and for someone so graceful in the air, Potter was a complete klutz, always tripping over his feet and running into things. Draco had no idea what he saw in Potter in the first place.
No, that was a lie. Draco knew exactly what he saw in Potter. As much as he hated to admit it, he had spent his entire school career and even a year or two afterwards, obsessed with Harry Potter. Everything about him annoyed Draco, pushed him over the edge. But at the same time, everything about Boy Wonder enticed him.
Those eyes—so sinfully and unnaturally green—that sorry-excuse of a rat's nest for hair. It was so messy that Draco wanted nothing more than to run his hands through it, to twist those ridiculous frizzy strands around his fingers. And that mouth of his, such full pink lips that were always the slightest bit chapped. He hadn't minded Potter's mouth when it was wrapped around his cock or biting on his chest.
Fuck. No, snap out of it. Don't think about, Potter. He's wasn't Draco's any more. Hell, he never had been in the first place. Memories of Draco fucking a rather enthusiastic Potter in the mouth flashed through his mind. His trousers were growing painfully tight. This was not good. Antonio could come home at any moment. How would he explain his hard on to him? Sorry, mate, I was just fantasising about your new boyfriend. No, there was no way he could tell him that.
He placed his hand on his crotch, his cock involuntarily twitching against it. No one was home yet. He could pull off a quick wank before Antonio walked in the door. All he had to do was think of that one time that Harry and him had gone away for the weekend. They went to Paris, stayed at an upscale Muggle hotel, so no one would bother them. They'd fucked in a hot tub multiple times, in the lift, the roof. Basically, on every available surface. It had been a weekend to remember, one of the best of his life. He wondered if Potter ever thought about that weekend?
Stop being an idiot. Wanking over the past, especially Potter was a bad idea. Things had ended badly between them. And really, there was never a Potter and him. They had only fucked for a few short weeks. Way less than his year long relationship with Antonio. The arsehole didn't deserve a minute of Draco's time.
He unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers, reaching a hand in and grabbing his balls. He gave them a little tug and closed his eyes. Think about anything else, he commanded. McGonagall in her undergarments. His grandmother. Breasts.
There. That was better. His erection was slowly deflating; he pressed his face on the triplet of glass windows in their living room. Their new flat had a marvellous view of the Thames and even a small patio garden. He never thought that he would enjoy living in such a busy city. At first he longed for the solitude and tranquillity of the Manor, but this flat had been the perfect compromise. The quietness kept him sane and the open space of the garden helped his panic attacks. He wasn't sure about the cleanliness of the air, but it seemed to help anyway. Perhaps that was what he needed now.
He removed himself from the window and went back to the kitchen. His takeaway was spread out on the table barely touched, and his piles of books and research took up the other half. It was not like him to leave his flat in such a state of disarray, but he had more pressing matters to deal with. He wasn't hungry at all, not for food—and he had an early shift at work tomorrow, so he probably shouldn't drink.
His best bet was to go outside and get some air. Before leaving the kitchen, he gave the clutter on the table one last glare; he was about to turn around and then changed his mind. Screw it. Antonio would be too intoxicated on Potter's obnoxious charm and green eyes to notice the mess.
~8~8~8~
"Draco, what are you doing out here?" Antonio asked.
"Thinking," Draco mumbled, without turning around. He was standing on their patio, leaning against the rail and looking out across the water. The quiet waves of the Thames mesmerized him and so did his cloud of smoke.
"I can see that." Antonio stepped closer and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You're back early," Draco said, his tone accusatory rather than cordial. "What...does Golden Boy have a curfew or something?"
Antonio hesitated, probably thrown off by Draco's harsh tone, but then offered a slight chuckle. "No, it's 2 am, Doc."
Draco blinked and dropped the cigarette that he was holding in his hand, flicking it over the guardrail. Merlin, he had lost track of time. Somehow, hours had passed.
"I know," Draco snapped and pulled his arm out of Antonio's grip. He didn't mean to be so snotty with Antonio. The poor bloke didn't actually know that he was dating Draco's ex, but he had to be angry with someone. And Potter wasn't around to blame. Besides, Antonio was used to his moods after all these years. Draco never picked delicate friends.
Antonio reached out and grabbed Draco's arm, pulling him close enough that Draco could not escape his intense gaze. He had that sad, concerned look on his face again, like a kicked puppy dog. Fucking hell...why did he have to give him that look?
"I don't know what's wrong." Antonio's voice was soft; he held Draco's arm in his strong palm and gave it a squeeze. "But this isn't like you, Doc. You've been acting strange all week. You know that you can tell me—"
"It's nothing. I'm fine."
He looked into Antonio's eyes and tried to give him his most earnest look. There went his resolution of being honest with his friends. In the last week, he must have lied to Antonio and all his colleagues more than a dozen times. Tricking people was not part of his life anymore. He no longer had the stomach for it.
Without saying another word, he squirmed his way out of Antonio's grip and walked over to the small wicker table and chairs in front of their patio door, motioning for his friend to join him. Their outdoor furniture didn't get much use as Draco preferred to hang out by the guardrail and get lost in the scenery. At the moment, he was thankful he bought it. This time, Antonio was not going to be appeased by his denials; it looked like he was in for a long night.
Draco sighed. "It's just been a rough week," he said, not meeting Antonio's eyes.
He reached into the front pocket of his jacket and pulled out another cigarette and lighter. Draco didn't smoke anymore. It was a filthy Muggle habit that some interns had introduced him to years ago. It made his panic attacks worse and exasperated his asthma. But his nerves were so shattered tonight that smoking a couple of fags seemed like the least harmful of evils.
He brought the fag to his lips and lit it, inhaling deeply as the harsh smoke rushed to his lungs.
"I see you're smoking again."
"I'm not," Draco lied. That was the second pack he'd purchased that week. "I've been having nightmares."
The dark look on Antonio's face softened."Oh, about your family? The war?"
Draco nodded, keeping his face sombre. The lies were just spewing from his mouth now, like tiny shards of venom that were slowly poisoning him.
"Why didn't you—"
"It's nothing," Draco insisted. He leant over and offered Antonio a smile, blowing a ring of smoke into his face. "I didn't want to burden you, not since you've been so happy with your new lover boy."
Antonio blushed. "Stuff it, Malfoy." He held his hand out and Draco passed him the cigarette. He took a long drag and then smirked back. "Fuck it. When in Rome, right?"
"Right." Draco wasn't sure what Antonio was talking about, but he shrugged it off as another one of those Muggle expressions he would never understand.
"So tell me about, Pot—I mean Harry. Tell me about, Harry."
"But...what about?"
Draco waved his hand dismissively. "Forget about me. I've been thinking about my demons all night. I'm exhausted." He opened his eyes wider and pouted. "Please, give me some dirt."
"Well..." Antonio bit down on the corner of his lip. "There's not much to say."
Draco scoffed. "You've see this Potter bloke three times now. There must be something to share. How big is his cock?"
Antonio coughed and widened his eyes so much that he reminded Draco of his old eagle owl. It was too easy to embarrass him.
"There, there," Draco said, pretending to rub his back. "Don't die on me. Not without giving me details."
Antonio caught his breath and looked pensive, staring off in the dark sky. The truth was Draco didn't want to know about Antonio's date at all. The idea of Potter and him off at some romantic restaurant, making googly eyes at each other across the table made him sick to his stomach. Yet, somehow he needed to know everything, every last detail. Holy Mother of Merlin, he was such a masochist. Why did he do this to himself?
"If you insist," Antonio said, after several moments. His face lit up into dazzling smile as if he were a child receiving his first broomstick. "Harry's just amazing, Draco. He's so funny and smart. A gentleman."
His smile grew wider with each compliment. That gnawing feeling in Draco's stomach was growing, sour bile ramming its way up his throat. If this didn't stop soon, he was going to vomit.
"How marvellous. He seems so perfect." Sarcasm dripped from his voice. "Perfect Potter."
Antonio laughed, a deep belly laugh, not realising that Draco was serious. "He's not perfect yet. We haven't actually...you know?"
Draco raised an eyebrow. "What shagged?"
Antonio shook his head. "Not yet."
Draco let out a sigh of relief. Thank Merlin. Perhaps there was some sort of higher power somewhere. The sour bile made its way back down Draco's throat and settled in his stomach where it belonged.
"Why not?" Draco asked, his voice high-pitched and strained. Bloody hell. He really was a masochist. Mother always did tell him he never knew went to keep his mouth shut. Why couldn't he take his victory and drop it?
Antonio shrugged. "Harry offered to take me back to his place tonight, but I don't know. It didn't feel right. I want to be sober the first time we make love."
"Make love?" Draco mouthed. He scowled and pressed his lips into a hard line. So Potter had wanted to fuck Antonio. He crumbled the cigarette in his hand and didn't even wince when the hot ash burnt his skin.
"I know. I know." Antonio put his hands over his face. "I'm so mawkish and sentimental it makes you sick. I fall for blokes too quickly. You don't have to say it."
Draco flicked the used cigarette into the ashtray and pushed the pack of cigarettes towards Antonio. "Here, you need them more than I do." He removed the lighter from his pocket and gave him that too. "I'm going to bed. I have an early shift tomorrow."
Antonio ignored the cigarettes and creased his brow. "Alright, sweet dreams."
"You too." Draco walked away from the table and towards the sliding glass door. "And Antonio," he said, before walking in the door, "watch yourself. Don't let him break your heart."
To be continued...
A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Sorry about the angst. *hides*
Comments are love.
~Icicle
guest review responses
Jane Alpha: Thank you so much for your kind words, dear! Your comment made me smile so wide. I'm so glad you're liking this characterisation of Draco. He likes you right back. ; )