Summary: Draco is a Healer, Harry is an Auror. When an accident sends Harry to St Mungo's and into Draco's care they begin to wonder if things can ever go back to the way they were. HarryxDraco slash.
Rating: M
Warnings: Sex between two guys in this chapter – don't like it? Don't read it.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or settings that you recognise; they belong to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. I am not making any money from this story.
A/N: Right, this is getting ridiculous. Every day I get a few emails telling me that I've been added to someone's favourites but hardly anyone reviews! I love writing and don't do it for the validation but it would be really nice to hear some feedback once in a while. Please just have the courtesy to let me know whether you liked it or hated it – I'll try to do the same for you x
Chapter Four: Friends?
Harry lay on his back, staring into the darkness. He could feel Ginny's warm weight beside him in their bed and he sighed. They had Apparated straight home from the party that night and made their way upstairs, leaving a trail of clothes in their wake. It had been months since they had last slept together and he barely took the time to notice that she was there. There had been no romance, no intimacy; it was over within minutes and left him feeling sickened and hollow. He told himself that the feeling was guilt for using his wife to rid himself of his own frustration with no consideration for her needs but, honestly, he had no idea what he was feeling or why. He rolled over on to his side and pulled Ginny closer to him, her long hair tickling his face. He buried his face in it and inhaled deeply, taking in the sweet scent of her shampoo. It was flowery and made him think of summers at the Burrow when they were still at school. He had so many happy memories with her, it was hard to believe that, five short years later, he was happiest around her when she was asleep. He didn't want to admit that he wasn't happy but the longer he laid there, the more these thoughts crept into his mind and stirred up things that he would rather not consider. He untangled himself from his sleeping wife and slipped silently from the room, trying his best not to make any noise as he tiptoed through to the bathroom. Opening the cabinet above the sink, he rifled through the bottles until he found what he was looking for: a small phial marked Dreamless Sleep. Pulling the stopper out, he tipped his head back and drained the bottle in one gulp. He placed the empty phial back in the cupboard and hurried back to bed, feeling his limbs becoming heavier with every step. His eyelids drooped and he climbed gratefully into the large, fluffy bed, consciousness slipping away instantly as his head touched the pillow.
-x-
Tap tap tap
Harry groaned and pulled a pillow over his head in an attempt to block out the noise.
Tap tap tap
"Ginny, the Prophet's here!" he shouted, his voice muffled. "You need to pay the owl!"
Tap tap tap
"Ginny!"
Silence. Pulling himself into a sitting position, he squinted against the bright sunlight that was pouring in through the gap in the curtains. He put his glasses on and noticed that there was a scrap of parchment on his bedside cabinet baring Ginny's handwriting:
Harry,
Got a Floo call from Alicia this morning asking if I would go with her to see a few venues for the wedding as her mum can't make it. You were asleep and I didn't want to wake you. I should be home for dinner.
Love, Ginny x
Harry sighed and pulled the covers back. He walked over to the window and, pulling open the curtains, was greeted by a large eagle owl. He hastily opened the window and the bird swooped down and landed on the bed, holding its leg out patiently. Harry looked down and was surprised to see, not the Daily Prophet as he had expected, but a scroll of parchment baring an official-looking seal. He hesitated and the bird threw him a reproachful look, ruffling its feathers. He untied the letter and the owl instantly flew back out the open window, leaving Harry staring down at the parchment as though it might burst into flames at any given moment. Taking a deep breath, he opened it to see small, neat handwriting that he didn't recognise:
Potter,
It may have escaped your attention but you left your cloak at the party last weekend. I'm assuming you're either too embarrassed to ask for it or too dim to notice that it was gone. My address can be found on the reverse of this letter.
Regards,
Draco Malfoy
Harry turned the letter over to see an address that he knew of, in an upmarket area of London. He snorted; trust Malfoy to have a trendy flat in one of the most expensive areas of the city. Two weeks ago he had been keen to become friends with his old enemy but now he wasn't sure how he felt. There had been something odd about the way Malfoy was acting that night and, to be perfectly honest, it had creeped him out. Unfortunately, Ginny had been on at him to get their cloaks back all week so ignoring the invitation was out of the question. He would never hear the end of it. Sighing, he pulled off his boxer shorts and shuffled through to the bathroom, gearing himself up to start his day.
An hour later, he was hovering outside Malfoy's flat, his finger poised over the buzzer. He still felt awkward about seeing the other man but he didn't know how much longer he could stand here without attracting attention. Taking a deep breath, he pressed the button marked Malfoy.
"Who is it?" came a voice.
"Er, it's Harry," he replied, scuffing his shoe against the pavement.
"Just come up!"
There was a loud buzzing noise and the lock clicked. Pushing the door open, he looked around the spotless lobby in wonderment. He didn't want to hazard a guess as to how much Draco had paid for this place. He climbed the stairs slowly and found the door to 8E lying slightly ajar. Opening it hesitantly, he knocked and was greeted by a smiling Draco.
"Harry, you're here early!" he said brightly, ushering him into the living room. "Tea? Coffee?" he asked, indicating that he should take a seat.
"Erm… tea please," Harry replied, thrown by the blonde's cheerful mood. Draco nodded and left the room, returning a few minutes later with a fully laden tea tray. He busied himself with the two cups and handed one to Harry before sitting back in his seat and taking a drink.
"So, how are things?" the blond asked, smiling politely
"Not bad," Harry answered, feeling uneasy. The conversation carried on in the same vein for some time and it appeared that the subject of the previous weekend was not going to be broached. Setting his cup on the table, Harry looked up and tried his best to appear casual.
"So, last weekend…"
"I was drunk last weekend, I think I hit the free champagne a little too hard before dinner," Draco explained, bringing a hand up to stop Harry talking. "I think I was being a little odd because mother and I had had an argument before I left. I am sorry if I said or did anything to make you feel uncomfortable."
Harry blinked in surprise; he'd never heard Malfoy apologise before and the words sounded strange and foreign.
"Oh. That's… that's okay, Malfoy," he stammered, not sure of where to look.
"Draco," the Slytherin corrected, taking a sip of tea.
"Pardon?" Harry looked puzzled
"My name is Draco. That's what my friends call me."
"Are we friends?" The words were out before he had had time to think.
"Ouch," Draco laughed. "I suppose I thought so."
Harry looked at his knees. It seemed that he had built up a huge drama in his head for no reason and, as Malfoy had apologised for his strange behaviour, he saw no reason that they couldn't be friends. He knew that his other friends might not be as forgiving but that didn't mean that he had to live his life to please them. He smiled and extended his hand. "Friends."
Draco nodded and took the proffered hand, giving it a firm shake. "Friends," he agreed.
"So…" began Harry, getting to his feet, "I should probably go."
Malfoy jumped up. "Wait, I have tickets to the England versus France game this afternoon. I mean, if you're interested… you don't have to…"
"What?" Harry's face dropped. "How the hell did you get tickets? Ron and I tried for weeks but they were always sold out!"
The blond shook his head, laughing at the indignant look on the Gryffindor's face. "It's a secret," he replied with a wink. "I get tickets to all the big games."
"Lucky sod," the brunette huffed, and Draco laughed again, checking his watch.
"It's eleven-thirty just now and the match doesn't start until one. We could always grab something to eat before heading to the stadium; there's a place around the corner that does a fantastic fry-up."
"Erm, sure," Harry nodded. "Lead the way!"
-x-
"Did you see that?!" Harry yelled, jumping to his feet angrily and joining the sea of red and white clad England supporters as they booed the French Chaser.
Draco watched the brunette's reactions closely and smirked to himself. Harry was the polar opposite of Draco: while the blond kept his face unreadable at all times, the Gryffindor was like an open book. He always had been. That was probably why Draco had found it so easy to taunt him when they were at school; Harry made it so obvious when he'd touched a nerve. Suddenly the crowd roared as one of the England Chasers made it past the French Keeper and scored, making the score 30 -20. Draco lost his footing as the woman beside him jumped up and down, and he found himself pressed against Harry. His face flushed, he quickly righted himself, smoothing down the front of his shirt and mumbling an apology that was lost in the noise of the crowd.
In the next action-packed twenty minutes, which included two penalties and a rather savage nose-break, the score shot up to 70 – 40 with France in the lead and the crowd were becoming despondent. As the Quaffle went soaring through the hoop again, Draco heard the people around him gasp and saw the two Seekers streaking across the pitch, no more than three feet behind the golden snitch. They inched forward, neck in neck, both desperately willing their brooms to carry them faster and suddenly, the England Seeker put on a extra burst of speed, his hand outstretched, and closed his fingers around the tiny ball. The stadium erupted and the sound of the commentator's voice was drowned out by the din of the England supporters stamping their feet and screaming.
"We won!" Harry shouted hoarsely, a huge grin on his face. Draco felt another swooping sensation in his stomach as he took in the other man's flushed face and bright green eyes, shining with excitement. Fighting the overwhelming urge to kiss him, the blond broke his gaze and feigned interest in the English team mascots, which were now halfway through a victory lap around the pitch.
Perfect. Just fucking perfect. He had a crush on Harry Potter. He didn't know how, or why, or when this had started but it had and now he had to pretend that nothing was different. Pretend that he didn't want to kiss his new friend. His new, straight, married friend who didn't know that he was gay and who had hated him for half his life. Fantastic.
-x-
"Wow."
"I know."
"But… wow."
"Yeah, I know."
"Wow. This is huge."
"Yep."
"Wow."
"For fuck's sake, Pansy, stop saying 'wow' and tell me what I'm supposed to do with this realisation!" Draco snapped, slamming his glass on the table.
"Nothing," Pansy replied, lighting a cigarette. "Don't do anything. Don't say anything. Just put him in your spank bank and get on with your life."
"'Nothing'? That's your advice? 'Nothing'?" Draco looked at her incredulously and she nodded, blowing smoke in his face. Coughing, he wafted the smoke away and glared.
"I'm serious, Draco, people could get hurt and it'll most likely be you. Potter is as straight as they come and he's married to the she-weasel. It's never going to happen."
"But he's not happy with her," he protested, and Pansy raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow.
"It doesn't matter. Just because he's not happy with his wife, it doesn't mean that he would be up for shagging a bloke!"
"So I just do nothing?" Draco looked at his best friend, feeling deflated and she placed her hand on his.
"I know it's shit but no good could possibly come of it. The most you could hope for is to be his friend but, to be honest, I'm not sure that that's the best thing for you. It would probably just make you feel worse."
Draco sighed and finished his drink in one gulp. It had been a very long time since he had had crush on anyone and he wasn't quite sure how to act – his love life mostly consisted of one night stands and drunken fumbles in pub toilets. Cocktails with Pansy had seemed like a good idea at the time but now he was feeling like crap. Slightly drunk and feeling rejected, Draco wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and not resurface for a week. Scanning the room, his gaze was met by that of a tall, slender boy with longish dark hair and big brown eyes. The stranger smiled and raised an eyebrow, bringing his glass to his lips but never looking away. Pansy tutted and shook her head.
"It won't help, Draco," she said, stubbing out her cigarette. He ignored her, getting to his feet and dropping a handful of notes on the table. "See you," he said, making his way over to the man.
"Draco!" she called after him, but he didn't look back.
He was inches from his target when he leaned in and quietly introduced himself. Forgoing all niceties, he went straight for the kill. "Do you want to come back to mine?"
He shook his platinum hair out of his eyes and smirked as the young man licked his lips, looking nervous but excited. His silver eyes glinted and he lowered his long lashes seductively, almost daring him to refuse. The boy didn't stand a chance.
Ten minutes later, Draco was unbuttoning his shirt and pulling the other man's belt off. Kissing him frantically, he fumbled with the fastenings on his trousers before shimmying them off his hips and stepping out of them.
"I'm glad you decided to come back with me, Paul," the blond panted, pulling the brunette's t-shirt over his head and throwing it on the floor.
"It's Pete, actually," he corrected him, allowing himself to be pushed backwards onto the bed.
"Right, sorry," Draco replied, straddling his hips and bending down to kiss his neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there. He closed his eyes and he saw Harry writhing around beneath him, his beautiful green eyes clouded with lust. Draco groaned and ripped his boxers off, throwing them on the floor beside his other clothes. Using the hand cream on his nightstand as a lubricant, he positioned himself above Pete and thrust forward roughly. He knew that he should have taken the time to prepare him and this would probably be painful but, at that moment, he had only one thought and he knew that this would not take long. He squeezed his eyes shut and pictured Harry, naked and covered in sweat, the image alone almost tipping him over the edge. Paying no attention to the pained whimpers from beneath him, he grabbed the boy's hips and forced them upwards, digging his nails into his soft skin as he felt his muscles contract. His face pressed into the crook of the younger man's neck, he bit down hard to prevent Harry's name falling from his lips.
Taking a few moments to recover, he finally rolled off of the brunette and slid out of bed, opening the bedroom door.
"Listen, I've got a really early start at the hospital tomorrow so you can't really stay the night."
"Oh. Okay, that's cool," Pete nodded, sitting up gingerly.
"Yeah. I'm going for a shower now," Draco took a step back, "you should go."
"Or I could join you," he raised an eyebrow suggestively, "you look like you could use the company."
"No thanks," the blond said shortly, starting to get annoyed.
"Oh, okay. Can I call you?"
Draco sighed. He didn't keep in touch with any of his conquests and tonight was no different. "I don't think so. Tonight was fun, but I'm not looking for anything just now."
Looking hurt and confused, Pete began picking up his clothes and hurriedly redressed. Without a backwards glance, he almost ran from the apartment and slammed the front door behind him. Feeling a twinge of guilt, Draco bent down over his pile of closed and pulled the scrap of paper bearing a phone number that the young boy had given him out of his jeans. He slipped it into the top drawer of his sideboard before making his way to the bathroom to scrub any trace of that night's activities from his skin. It turned out that Pansy was right: it hadn't helped in the slightest.
-x-
A/N: Bad Draco! He's such a silly billy. So what did you guys think? Please please please review! x