Draco never turned around so fast in his life, Lucius Malfoy looked nothing like his former self, the man Draco used to idolize and fear when he was just a naïve little boy. The senior Malfoy looked depleted, his already gaunt face had grown even gaunter, his blonde hair looked as though it hadn't seen product in its life. Surprisingly, he didn't look like he'd lost any weight, but that could be from a Glamour charm.
"Son," Lucius tried again, "Have you forgotten how to talk and show respect to your father?"
Draco threw a glance over to his mother who was, at present, frozen in her spot with her knuckles white from being clenched together.
"Lucius," Draco stepped forward and stood to face his father at his full height, no longer would he cower in front of his father.
Lucius frowned at the less than respectable greeting, "Insolent," he spit out cruelly.
Draco held his gaze until Lucius swept passed him and toward his wife, "Narcissa, my darling."
The junior Malfoy looked over at his mother again, he wished he could read her thoughts or offer her some kind of comfort. Then, Narcissa Malfoy did something Draco never thought her capable of. Her hand flew up and across Lucius's face as quick as a Golden Snitch.
Lucius recoiled, but recovered quickly and snatched his wife's hand before she could slap him a second time. "Narcissa, stop this," he commanded.
"How did you find me, Lucius?" she tried pulling her hand out of his grasp.
"Have you forgotten that you are my wife and that I will always be able to get you?"
"Get out, Lucius, you aren't welcome, I want you out of my house and away from my son."
"Your son? Did I not have a hand in his being born?"
"Go to Hell, Lucius," she spit in his face.
"Narcissa, my darling, calm down," Lucius pulled her to him and kissed her neck.
She in turn bit him. Draco could take no more, without a second thought, he lunged at his father to get him away from his mother.
Neither Malfoy parents would dare lay a hand on their son, so they separated.
"Draco, stay out of this. Mommy and Daddy are talking," Lucius sneered at him.
This was it, Draco had had enough of his father's patronization, and before he could stop himself he swung and punched his father across his face.
Lucius fell back a little, touched where Draco's fist landed, then turned a murderous gaze on his only child. But instead of retaliating, Lucius Malfoy laughed, he fucking laughed.
It was unsettling, Narcissa stepped back and toward the windows.
Draco was stunned, he expected his father to cast the killing curse immediately.
"Good swing, Son, perhaps all those rumors I heard about you being a ponce were unjustified."
Draco and his mother shared a look, fortunately, the Malfoy patriarch missed the look and instead sat down on the chaise lounge to pour a glass of cognac.
Whatever hope Draco had about his and Harry's future was shot more to hell.
Harry was stunned when the Wizengamot declared that Lucius Malfoy could walk free from Azkaban, on the terms of good behavior. It sickened him (he managed to sneak into the hearing).
Lucius Malfoy was still a bastard and surely he'd go back to trying to control his son.
Harry needed to see Draco now, he needed to get him somewhere safe, with him, but he still didn't know where Draco was.
He decided to snoop around some more, pester Kingsley again.
Harry ached for Draco, he needed to see him, hold him, tell him he loved him.
He tried all afternoon to figure out Draco's whereabouts, but it was still to no avail. Kingsley suggested that he take some time off because his performance at work was slipping.
Actually, he didn't suggest it, he just sent Harry home feeling more depressed and worthless than ever.
He needed to go out and be social, being isolated in his big old house was taking its toll on him.
But who could he call? Not Ron or Hermione. Neville? No. Dean? No. Seamus was always a good time at the pub, and Harry knew Seamus would get him wasted to the point of obliterated, and that's what he wanted.
One Floo call and a change of clothes later, Harry apparated to a known gay club in Muggle London, Metro it was called.
Another reason Harry got a hold of Seamus was because Seamus was gay himself, and also the only other person besides Draco that knew Harry's sexual preferences.
"Harry, Mate," Seamus clapped him on the back as he approached him at the bar.
"Got a head start, there, Seamus?" Harry gestured to the quarter full glass of beer on the bar counter.
The Irishman shrugged, "I got one for you too." He handed Harry a glass of beer and tossed the rest of his back.
Harry leaned against the bar and took three big gulps of his beer, which successfully emptied the glass. Seamus ordered another one for him and then another and another and another.
By the time Harry finished off his fifth glass of beer, he was feeling tipsy and ready to dance and he'd been eyeing up a young man with a striking resemblance to Draco. He decided to pretend that it really was Draco, just to satisfy his craving.
The pseudo-Draco eyed him up too, Harry downed one more beer and a shot one generous patron bought him and then he felt that he was ready to make his move.
Seamus had already found a good looking guy to hang off of and Harry could vaguely recall his friend saying something about going out back for a smoke and a quickie, but he really couldn't remember.
He took four fast strides toward pseudo-Draco and overtook him quickly. "Want to join me tonight?" Harry slurred into the man's ear.
The man eagerly accepted and followed Harry out of the club.
Harry knew where he was going to take this man to his and Draco's place where they'd have their affair, the little inn with the little room always open for them.
Now, even though Harry was drunk off his ass, he knew better than to perform a side-along apparation with a muggle, so they grabbed a cab.
The stumbled into the room and Harry immediately went for the man's mouth, pulling back to say, "Draco, I love you. I love you Draco Malfoy," he slurred and fell on the bed.
The man frowned and looked at the black-haired puddle on the bed, he knew this man didn't really want him, he was just some desperate fool in love. And from the way this guy was declaring his love, he knew he didn't stand a chance, so instead of getting into bed with Harry, he tucked the covers over him and left the room.
In the morning, Harry woke up in a familiar bed without a clue as to how he'd gotten there. He looked over in hopes of seeing Draco, but his hopes were dashed.
He kind of remembered someone with him the night before, but by how neat the sheets were, save for where he slept, he knew that he and this man did nothing. Shame too, he needed a good pounding into the bed.
In the late morning, after a few violent episodes of hung over vomiting, he crawled home and into his own bed. This was getting out of hand, as he lay in his bed he racked his brain for any possible clue as to where Draco had gone.
He was just about to fall back asleep when a place popped into his head.
"Lyon!" he shot up and then fell back down into the pillows with a gunshot headache.
He'd go tomorrow to find his love in France, he'd search the streets until he found him, anything to get to him.
A/N: Sorry that took 600 years for me to post, I could not think of anything to write at all. But, thank you for still commenting and reading and favoriting. I shall see you next chapter!
