Title: Treasures of Old
By: Adarial Ciao
Summary: The War ended 7 years ago, and since then, Harry has exiled himself from the Wizarding world. He lives alone in a small flat in muggle London, and slowly, loneliness starts to overcome him. But when someone from his past comes back into the picture, his life takes a turn....for the better? Let's hope so!
Disclaimer: Not mine. Jk's. Plot (ha! plot, that's funny) mine.
* Chapter Four *
When Draco arrived at Harry's flat, he was greeted with the sounds of stumbling coming from one of the rooms, which he presumed to be Harry scurrying to get ready for their night out. Taking advantage of him moment of privacy he quickly scanned the apartment. It didn't take that long to take in all the sights. He scoffed at the poorly furnished living room with its quite obviously second-hand furniture, and ratty white walls that hadn't been painted in years. Moving his gaze to the kitchen, he noted that it too was scarcely furnished, with only simple white countertops and only the bare essentials for a working kitchen. He frowned in confusion upon ending his scrutiny of the small space, /Wasn't Potter supposed to have some sort of inherited treasure or something? Why is he living in this hellhole? / He sighed, not eager to see the condition of Harry's bedroom.
He did note, however, and gave Harry credit for the numerous amounts of books that were piled upon each other in the various bookshelves that stood throughout the flat. Some were new, most were used, and they were every he looked. He spotted some of the classics, such as The Taming of the Shrew, which he himself enjoyed immensely, despite it's muggle origins, and some newer, contemporary pieces that he had never even heard of. Draco found it suspicious, however, that among all those books, he saw not one magical title. He made a mental note to question him about that when the chance presented itself.
"Well, um, I'm ready", said Harry tentatively, breaking Draco out of his reverie. He was surprised, and quite pleased at the sight that met him. If he had thought Harry had looked good early, he look downright edible now, dressed in a pair of worn, form-fitting jeans that whispered of a nice physique, and a plain black long sleeved turtleneck sweater, also form fitting, that clearly told of his sculpted torso and impressive arms. The over all outfit was probably years old and all assimilated from thrift stores, but on Harry, it looked absolutely marvelous, and Draco thanked his lucky stars that Malfoys were brutally trained in the art of self-control.
"So, I see you've changed," was all Draco could manage, as he was still busy taking in his fill of the wonderful sight before him.
"Er, yeah. I'm sorry it took so long. I hope I didn't keep you waiting." Harry trailed off, noticing the odd look in Draco's eye that was affecting him in ways he did not want to think about.
"Oh no, it was no trouble at all. The wait was worth it," said Draco approvingly. "So, what do you usually do for fun?" inquired Draco after he had recovered.
"Fun?" asked Harry. How was he supposed to explain to Draco that what he did for fun was sit alone every night in his small apartment and read until it was time to get ready for the next morning? Before he could think of a suitable answer, Draco felt the need to elaborate.
"Yes, Potter, fun. It's what we humans, wizard and muggle alike, do to entertain ourselves when the stupidity of man is no longer enough. You do have fun, don't you?" he asked condescendingly. Surely Harry wasn't as bad as Hermione had said. There was no way all he did to pass his time was sit home and read.
"Well, I usually just sit home and read." Then again, maybe not.
"Well, that's not fun. Not the kind of fun I'm speaking of, in any case. Tonight, my dear Potter, we are going to have some real fun," exclaimed Draco mischievously, throwing an arm leisurely around Harry's shoulders, guiding him to the door.
"Real fun?" nervously asked Harry. He was definitely not liking the playful tone of Draco's voice, or the evil look in his silver eyes.
"Tonight, Harry, we are going to get drunk." Harry didn't even have time to realize that Draco had called him by his first name; he was still too shocked at what Draco had just revealed. Too shocked, even, to make his mouth move and dispel at Draco all of his numerous complaints. All his helpless body could do was be dragged by Draco out the door and down to the bustling city street below.
*
Well, reflected Draco, getting drunk with Harry is decidedly a most pleasurable experience.
After walking around downtown London for a while, searching for a suitable club, they finally found the perfect one. It was full of flashy lights that caused temporary blindness; loud blaring music that deafened anyone within a one hundred yard radius, along with a sea of humping, grinding, rubbing, and sweaty bodies to match; and most importantly, a bar that served any kind of alcoholic drink one could think of. Draco was elated. Harry was terrified.
Completely ignoring Harry's protests and complaints, Draco dragged him to the bar, and ordered them flamboyantly neon colored drinks, that delightfully decreased even the strongest willed person's inhibitions. After only one drink, Harry was considerably less tense, and even started to enjoy himself. After two drinks, Harry was openly laughing at Draco's antics and smiling more than he had in months. After three drinks, Harry was dancing (at Draco's insistence of course).
Draco was incredibly surprised at Harry's rhythm. For someone claiming to never have danced before, he was keeping up with the music almost perfectly, and moving in the moshing pit of bodies with the best of them. And Draco was loving every moment of it.
Nobody seemed to notice the two men dancing together, nor did they seem to care. They were bumping and grinding sensually, learning each other's bodies, melding it with their own, off in a complete and total world of their own.
Harry was letting out all of the tensions that had built up in him over the past seven years. He was letting go completely and freely. He was finally getting the touch he had always yearned for. He was being caressed in places he never had been before, experiencing new feelings that he never even knew existed. He was feeling new sensations that he could never get enough of, like Draco's hot breath on his neck as they moved languidly to a slow song, or his hips against his own as they ground their bodies together, needing more. He was no longer alone, and through his drunken haze, he decided that this was much better that any story he had ever read.
Draco was in heaven. He was finally getting what he had wanted for over seven years. He was finally able to be near Harry, to feel his body against his. He was finally able to run his hands over that perfect body and through that unruly ebony black hair. He was finally feeling Harry's hands on his hips as they moved with the music, the beat pulsing through them, making them one. Everything about this moment was pure joy, and he never wanted it to end. The dreams that had haunted him ever since the Boy Wonder had so abruptly left his world, leaving him to wonder where he was, what he was doing, who he was loving.All of them, every single dream, was coming true tonight.
Dancing through the night, they held each other close like there was no tomorrow, and in their drug-induced world of ecstasy and bliss, there wasn't. A/N: Sorry for any mistakes, I don't have a beta. And I'm sorry it took so long to update, but hey, if it makes up for it in anyway, I really like this chapter, and hope you did too.
By: Adarial Ciao
Summary: The War ended 7 years ago, and since then, Harry has exiled himself from the Wizarding world. He lives alone in a small flat in muggle London, and slowly, loneliness starts to overcome him. But when someone from his past comes back into the picture, his life takes a turn....for the better? Let's hope so!
Disclaimer: Not mine. Jk's. Plot (ha! plot, that's funny) mine.
* Chapter Four *
When Draco arrived at Harry's flat, he was greeted with the sounds of stumbling coming from one of the rooms, which he presumed to be Harry scurrying to get ready for their night out. Taking advantage of him moment of privacy he quickly scanned the apartment. It didn't take that long to take in all the sights. He scoffed at the poorly furnished living room with its quite obviously second-hand furniture, and ratty white walls that hadn't been painted in years. Moving his gaze to the kitchen, he noted that it too was scarcely furnished, with only simple white countertops and only the bare essentials for a working kitchen. He frowned in confusion upon ending his scrutiny of the small space, /Wasn't Potter supposed to have some sort of inherited treasure or something? Why is he living in this hellhole? / He sighed, not eager to see the condition of Harry's bedroom.
He did note, however, and gave Harry credit for the numerous amounts of books that were piled upon each other in the various bookshelves that stood throughout the flat. Some were new, most were used, and they were every he looked. He spotted some of the classics, such as The Taming of the Shrew, which he himself enjoyed immensely, despite it's muggle origins, and some newer, contemporary pieces that he had never even heard of. Draco found it suspicious, however, that among all those books, he saw not one magical title. He made a mental note to question him about that when the chance presented itself.
"Well, um, I'm ready", said Harry tentatively, breaking Draco out of his reverie. He was surprised, and quite pleased at the sight that met him. If he had thought Harry had looked good early, he look downright edible now, dressed in a pair of worn, form-fitting jeans that whispered of a nice physique, and a plain black long sleeved turtleneck sweater, also form fitting, that clearly told of his sculpted torso and impressive arms. The over all outfit was probably years old and all assimilated from thrift stores, but on Harry, it looked absolutely marvelous, and Draco thanked his lucky stars that Malfoys were brutally trained in the art of self-control.
"So, I see you've changed," was all Draco could manage, as he was still busy taking in his fill of the wonderful sight before him.
"Er, yeah. I'm sorry it took so long. I hope I didn't keep you waiting." Harry trailed off, noticing the odd look in Draco's eye that was affecting him in ways he did not want to think about.
"Oh no, it was no trouble at all. The wait was worth it," said Draco approvingly. "So, what do you usually do for fun?" inquired Draco after he had recovered.
"Fun?" asked Harry. How was he supposed to explain to Draco that what he did for fun was sit alone every night in his small apartment and read until it was time to get ready for the next morning? Before he could think of a suitable answer, Draco felt the need to elaborate.
"Yes, Potter, fun. It's what we humans, wizard and muggle alike, do to entertain ourselves when the stupidity of man is no longer enough. You do have fun, don't you?" he asked condescendingly. Surely Harry wasn't as bad as Hermione had said. There was no way all he did to pass his time was sit home and read.
"Well, I usually just sit home and read." Then again, maybe not.
"Well, that's not fun. Not the kind of fun I'm speaking of, in any case. Tonight, my dear Potter, we are going to have some real fun," exclaimed Draco mischievously, throwing an arm leisurely around Harry's shoulders, guiding him to the door.
"Real fun?" nervously asked Harry. He was definitely not liking the playful tone of Draco's voice, or the evil look in his silver eyes.
"Tonight, Harry, we are going to get drunk." Harry didn't even have time to realize that Draco had called him by his first name; he was still too shocked at what Draco had just revealed. Too shocked, even, to make his mouth move and dispel at Draco all of his numerous complaints. All his helpless body could do was be dragged by Draco out the door and down to the bustling city street below.
*
Well, reflected Draco, getting drunk with Harry is decidedly a most pleasurable experience.
After walking around downtown London for a while, searching for a suitable club, they finally found the perfect one. It was full of flashy lights that caused temporary blindness; loud blaring music that deafened anyone within a one hundred yard radius, along with a sea of humping, grinding, rubbing, and sweaty bodies to match; and most importantly, a bar that served any kind of alcoholic drink one could think of. Draco was elated. Harry was terrified.
Completely ignoring Harry's protests and complaints, Draco dragged him to the bar, and ordered them flamboyantly neon colored drinks, that delightfully decreased even the strongest willed person's inhibitions. After only one drink, Harry was considerably less tense, and even started to enjoy himself. After two drinks, Harry was openly laughing at Draco's antics and smiling more than he had in months. After three drinks, Harry was dancing (at Draco's insistence of course).
Draco was incredibly surprised at Harry's rhythm. For someone claiming to never have danced before, he was keeping up with the music almost perfectly, and moving in the moshing pit of bodies with the best of them. And Draco was loving every moment of it.
Nobody seemed to notice the two men dancing together, nor did they seem to care. They were bumping and grinding sensually, learning each other's bodies, melding it with their own, off in a complete and total world of their own.
Harry was letting out all of the tensions that had built up in him over the past seven years. He was letting go completely and freely. He was finally getting the touch he had always yearned for. He was being caressed in places he never had been before, experiencing new feelings that he never even knew existed. He was feeling new sensations that he could never get enough of, like Draco's hot breath on his neck as they moved languidly to a slow song, or his hips against his own as they ground their bodies together, needing more. He was no longer alone, and through his drunken haze, he decided that this was much better that any story he had ever read.
Draco was in heaven. He was finally getting what he had wanted for over seven years. He was finally able to be near Harry, to feel his body against his. He was finally able to run his hands over that perfect body and through that unruly ebony black hair. He was finally feeling Harry's hands on his hips as they moved with the music, the beat pulsing through them, making them one. Everything about this moment was pure joy, and he never wanted it to end. The dreams that had haunted him ever since the Boy Wonder had so abruptly left his world, leaving him to wonder where he was, what he was doing, who he was loving.All of them, every single dream, was coming true tonight.
Dancing through the night, they held each other close like there was no tomorrow, and in their drug-induced world of ecstasy and bliss, there wasn't. A/N: Sorry for any mistakes, I don't have a beta. And I'm sorry it took so long to update, but hey, if it makes up for it in anyway, I really like this chapter, and hope you did too.
