Fic: Choices - Part Fourteen (Revised)
It’s been a while since I’ve updated Choices, but I’ve been reworking Chapter 14. I know people enjoyed what I posted of the chapter, but it didn’t really fit in with how I wanted this story to go, so I’ve made changes to the piece I posted and then added some more to it. I want to warn people that this chapter doesn’t contain the boy!smut I know some people were hoping for. In fact it’s probably only PG-13 at the most, though there is some talk of sexual stuff in it.
I hope people won’t be disappointed with the way things are progressing.
Special thanks to snottygrrl and luciology for their help and inspiration.
Part One -- Part Two -- Part Three -- Part Four --Part Five -- Part Six -- Part Seven -- Part Eight -- Part Nine -- Part Ten -- Part Eleven -- Part Twelve -- Part Thirteen
Choices, Part Fourteen (Revised)
Harry didn’t often suffer from embarrassment now he was older. Things had been different when he’d been younger and had first come to Hogwarts; back then it had been strange to realise that other people actually know who he was and their stares had often made him feel self-conscious. Before Hogwarts no one had ever taken any notice of him and he wasn’t used to being the centre of attention.
Then came the war and during those years he’d experienced so many things to the point he never thought he would ever feel awkward or embarrassed ever again. He’d learned how to cope with the gawking and the finger pointing, and he even knew how to deal with the press now, including people like Rita Skeeter.
But nothing could have ever prepared him for the sight of Draco Malfoy in his bath, naked as the day he was born and clearly completely at ease with the fact someone else was watching - staring - at him.
Harry swallowed, shocked and confused at his own reaction to the situation. After all, he’d seen the man undressed the previous night, but that whole situation had been entirely different, Draco had been injured and Harry had been trying to help. But now things had switched round completely and this was just Draco naked.
He was trying not to stare; trying not to look at parts of the other man that he shouldn’t be looking at. And he wished fervently that he still wore glasses. Glasses might get steamed up and he wouldn’t be able to see and maybe if he couldn’t see, his own body wouldn’t be feeling like this. Heat pooled in his groin.
Then Draco held out his hand and the bath sponge he was holding dripped thick globules of white soapy foam on the floor. “Hello, Harry. Would you like to scrub my back?”
Harry clutched at the doorjamb with his hand, aware that his nails were digging into the wood, before doing the only thing he could think of doing.
He fled.
Not very far, but far enough so he didn’t have to look at that wet hair or damp skin or soapy hands, because if he didn’t look then maybe his own body would start behaving itself.
Once in the relative safety of the lounge, Harry considered just leaving. He could go and come back later when Draco ... Malfoy (think of him as Malfoy, Harry) was in bed or dressed or both. Then he would be able to act as if nothing had ever happened.
But all there was between him and the other man was one closed door and he could hear the sound of splashing water. In his mind’s eye he could see Draco Malfoy climbing from the bath and carefully towelling himself dry with one of Harry’s big fluffy white towels.
Harry began pacing, hoping that the movement would diminish his half-hard erection. He shouldn’t, mustn’t, be turned on by, of all people, Draco Malfoy; it just wasn’t right. Malfoy was a ... a.... With a growl of annoyance, he paused at the window and rested his forehead against the cool glass. Draco Malfoy slept with other people for money and Harry didn’t need to pay for sex with anyone, especially not with an ex-Death Eater.
But....
But there was a niggling little voice in the back of his mind that kept wondering what it would feel like to have Malfoy’s mouth on his nipples and Malfoy’s hand down his trousers.
He gave a huff of annoyance, which misted the glass. It wasn’t that the idea of being sexually attracted to another man shocked him. In fact, if he was honest, his sex life had never been much to write home about; he’d always been too busy fighting Voldemort to form any romantic attachments and those he did seemed doomed to failure. When he’d married Ginny he had hoped things would change, but it hadn’t. Sex was okay, but not world shattering, at least not for him, though Ginny seemed happy enough with it at the time.
Then he’d started disappearing to Muggle London and his married life had slowly fallen apart around him. Ginny had stopped having sex with him and eventually started going out with Lee Jordan; she’d even told him that if he found someone else she wouldn’t mind. The only problem was that he felt guilty about having sex with another woman while he was still officially married to Ginny, so he’d remained celibate.
Then while on one of his sojourns into Muggle London, he’d gone to a different club and found a whole new world of vibrant young men and music that made his nerves zing with pleasure. He’d danced and touched and been touched, and then someone had tossed him off.
God it had felt so good and the man had kissed his nipples through his shirt and....
His flagging erection began to return and Harry struggled not to drop his hand down to his crotch.
He banged his head lightly against the glass as he tried to work through the conflicting thoughts crashing through his mind. If he was happy being tossed off by another man, then what was his problem with that man being Draco Malfoy? Was it because Malfoy sold himself for sex or was it because Malfoy would only ever consider having sex with Harry if he paid for it?
Harry found his mind wandering back to how he’d found Draco the previous night - beaten up, dressed in women’s clothing with smeared lipstick and a bow in his hair. How humiliating and degrading was that? There was a part of him that wondered if Draco had allowed that to happen because he liked it ... wanted to be treated in that way by people such as Reynolds.
But there had been something in those grey eyes, first in that awful flat and then back here when he’d helped Draco heal his broken arm. It had been fear but there had also been something that Harry thought might just be hope.
Wasn’t Harry responsible in an indirect way for what had happened? After all, he’d been one of the people who’d condemned Draco to living in this version of hell. And if that were the case, wasn’t he as culpable as the likes of Reynolds for the bruises that currently marred Draco’s skin?
---
Draco squeezed the sponge out over himself, the soapy foam running down his chest. There was something eminently satisfying about watching Harry Potter go all shades of awkwardness. He’d waited a very long time for this opportunity, but even more satisfying was the knowledge that a large part of Potter’s embarrassment was due to the fact the Boy Who Lived had been just a little turned on by having Draco Malfoy in his bath. Oh, Potter would deny it, but Draco had seen that look in too many eyes not to recognise it in those green ones. Besides, he first met the man in a gay club, so he was sure Potter wasn’t adverse to sexual exploits with his own sex.
He waited for the sound of a door slamming or some indication that Potter had fled further than just out of sight, but there was nothing. Of course, he wouldn’t have heard Potter Apparating from the flat, so there was still every possibility that the ‘brave’ Gryffindor had left.
But if Potter hadn’t left then, Draco decided, this might just be the opportunity he’d been contemplating since waking up in that wonderful bed. Potter had two things that he wanted at the moment.
First, there was this flat. Having spent the day here, Draco knew he had no desire whatsoever to return to his own flat except to collect his belongings. If he could somehow persuade Potter to let him stay, at least until Draco sorted out his life, then this could be exactly the break he’d been looking for.
Second, Potter was still the Wizarding world’s Golden Boy. With his patronage, Draco might be able to get his banishment commuted and return to the Wizarding community. That was where Draco really belonged and where he was desperate to return.
But he needed to play this carefully. If he came on too strongly, Potter might just baulk and throw him out. If he did nothing then Potter would think him an ungrateful leech and send him packing.
Draco stood up, watching as the water trickled down his body, leaving a slight sheen on his skin that glittered in the candlelight. It was a shame, he decided, that there weren’t any candles in the lounge. As he stepped from the bath, he considered his next move. If Potter was still here, he didn’t want to alarm the man by suddenly appearing in front of him naked. Instead he picked up a towel, wrapped carefully around his waist.
It was perfect. The towel looked like he’d casually thrown it on, but showed just the right amount of his hip, and the way he’d wrapped it accentuated the line of hair leading down from his navel. He hadn’t spent the last two years learning how to display himself well for nothing.
He quickly towelled some of the moisture from his hair ... he wanted it to still be a little wet, but not in rat’s tails ... and used his fingers to comb it in just the way he liked it. Then, with a practiced smirk on his face, he left the bathroom.
But there was a light on in Potter’s bedroom, bright after the candles in the bathroom, and he caught his reflection in a wall mirror. The healing he’d done the previous night had masked some of the bruising left by Reynolds and his thugs, but the marks had not disappeared completely. He stared at the glass and touched the faded blue/black marks on his side. There were also fingerprint-sized bruises along his throat and when he turned slightly he could see where someone had ground their shoe into the small of his back.
Draco blinked in surprise at his appearance. How had he ended up like this? Having to have sex with people for money, being beaten by the likes of Reynolds, and now contemplating sleeping with Potter just so he’d have somewhere safe to sleep. What would his mother and father think of their son and heir giving fellatio to the Dark Lord’s nemesis? For once he was grateful neither were around to see what he’d become.
He contemplated for a moment just disappearing into the other bedroom, but sooner or later he would have to deal with Potter and this whole situation. But he couldn’t seduce him with bruises like this. There was a white towelling robe hanging on the bathroom door and, quickly pulling it on, he studied his reflection again. It hid the marks and he decided to leave it unfastened.
Then taking a calming breath he made his way into the lounge.
The room was almost in darkness, lit just from the glow of the light still on in the bedroom. Potter was standing by the huge floor-to-ceiling window, his back to Draco and Draco knew that how he played the next few minutes would either make or break everything.
He padded silently across the room and stopping a few feet from Potter he whispered “Harry.”
The man turned and at first Potter just looked at him and then he really looked as if seeing Draco for the first time. The green eyes widened in what Draco thought might be fear and Potter stepped back banging into the glass with such force that Draco thought it might smash. Automatically he grabbed at the man’s arm to stop him falling if the glass did break, but Potter sidestepped away from him, stumbling behind a nearby chair as if wanting to put something between himself and Draco.
Draco couldn’t fail to notice the erection tenting the other man’s trousers before he’d slipped behind the protection of the chair, but that wasn’t what stopped Draco in his tracks. What stopped him was the fear radiating off Potter - fear of him.
He’d seen fear like that once before when Reynolds had asked him to keep an eye on one of his boys. The request wasn’t unusual; the boy was really pretty and Reynolds didn’t want anyone else to poach him. The fear on the boy’s face when Reynolds had told him what he would have to do for his bed and board had fazed Draco completely. Then he’d found out the boy was only fourteen and a runaway.
Draco remembered fear like that when he’d first woken up in the Muggle world. To find himself so completely out of his depth and in a world without the magic he’d known all his life had been such a shock to his system that there had been times he’d felt like his mind and body were both shutting down. That boy didn’t belong in Reynolds’s world either and while Draco knew he couldn’t do anything about his own situation, he did realise there was something he could do for the boy.
That night he’d put the boy on a train back home with as much cash as he could spare. The gesture had lead to the first ever beating from Reynolds, but Draco hadn’t cared. It had been worth it to receive a postcard a few weeks later with just the word Thanks written on it.
The boy had been dark haired, just like Potter, and the look on Potter’s face right now took him back to that moment sixteen months ago. Suddenly his earlier plans disappeared. He couldn’t do this ... not unless Potter really wanted it and actually asked him to do it.
Taking a breath, he gave a half-smile. “Hope you didn’t mind me using your bath, Potter.”
The other man’s mouth opened and closed, and finally he managed to form the words, “That’s okay.” The tension in his shoulders seemed relaxed just a little.
“Good. I’ll see you in the morning then. Goodnight.” He turned on his heel.
“What?” The voice behind him was small and a little high-pitched. “You’re going to bed?”
Draco glanced back over his shoulder. “I’m tired. I think it’s the after-effects of yesterday’s magic, so I’m going to turn in.” He continued on his journey to the bedroom. Behind him, he heard movement and knew Potter had left the safety of the chair.
“I’m not like the others.”
The tone was intense and it made Draco pause and turn round. He said nothing but raised a questioning eyebrow.
“I’m not like the ones who use you. I wouldn’t....” Potter’s fists clenched and unclenched reflexively and even in the dim lighting Draco could see a flush of colour on the man’s cheeks. “I’m not like Reynolds and the others.”
Draco gave a single nod, “I know, Harry, I know,” and continued on his journey from the room.
---
Draco awoke in darkness and realised immediately that there was someone else in the room with him. Adrenaline surged through his body, waking him completely before he had the sense to realise it could only be one person.
He lay still, waiting for his eyes to adjust and slowly a figure sitting on the chaise by the window became clear. He couldn’t see Potter’s features, but the outline was strikingly familiar. Turning on his side towards the man, he pulled the sheet over his bare shoulder. The movement seemed to stir the seated figure and finally Potter spoke.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
Draco shrugged even though his nocturnal visitor most likely couldn’t see the gesture. “It’s your flat. You have the right to go wherever you want.”
“No ... you’re a visitor and this is your room. But I couldn’t sleep and ... well....” The voice faded.
“Well what?” Draco kept his tone neutral and soft.
“It’s stupid really, but when I can’t sleep listening to someone else breathing helps.”
It hadn’t been the response Draco had expected and he wasn’t sure how to respond. He was just going to make some random comment when Harry continued, the voice sounding small in the darkness.
“I wouldn’t have ... you know ... done anything. I was just going to sit here for a while.” There was a rustle of movement as Harry stood. “I’ll go now. Sorry.”
Draco quickly sat up, baffled by the other man’s words. Then he remembered Harry’s earlier comment of I’m not like the others. Harry seemed to be attempting to reassure Draco that he wasn’t planning anything untoward. “Wait.”
Harry stopped at the foot of the bed. “What?”
“How did you find me yesterday? I never told you where I lived.”
“The Ministry. They’re tracking you.”
“Really?” Draco was astonished. He’d assumed that once the Ministry of Magic had carried out his sentence they would have just forgotten all about him. Were they still really keeping track of him?
Harry nodded. “They track all of the banished ... well, most of you. Some have been lost and....” He paused, clearly considering his next words. “Why do you do it?”
“Do what?” Draco understood Potter’s question completely, but he would be damned if he was answering without Potter actually saying the words. He felt the corner of the bed give a little as Potter sat down on it.
“Sleep with people.”
“Because I like to eat.” His tone was suitably sardonic. The last thing he wanted now was Potter’s condescension.
“I didn’t mean that. Why are you still doing it? After all, it’s been two years since you came here.”
It was an interesting question. The fact was Draco had been trying to get save enough money to get away from London and maybe set up a business somewhere else. He had some in a safety deposit box but every time he thought he’d got sufficient to make the break, something happened and he ended up back on the streets. “Don’t you think I’d get out of this if I could?”
“I don’t know. Do you like it?”
“Getting beaten up?”
“No, not that.” Potter shifted slightly and Draco watched as the shadowy shape of the other man curled up on the end of the bed. He grinned ... maybe Potter was a cat Animagus. “I mean the sex.”
“Sometimes it’s okay, but would you like having sex with someone you don’t know?”
“Is it....” The embarrassment in Potter’s voice was almost palpable. “Just with men?”
“No.” His voice became controlled. “I take women out to dinner when they want a companion and sometimes they like a little late-night entertainment. Occasionally they just want the entertainment.”
“If you had the chance to get out of it, would you?”
“Do you really need to ask that?”
“No, I guess not.”
They both fell into silence and Draco listened to the slow change in the other man’s breathing. Potter was clearly falling asleep. When Potter finally spoke again, there was an almost childlike tiredness to his voice.
“You can stay here if you want.”
Draco didn’t answer because he knew Potter would probably forget what he’d said in the morning. They often did that ... promised him things and then gone back on their word. Instead he pulled at the bedspread and tugged it over Potter. He considered for a moment whether to find somewhere else to sleep, but finally decided to stay where he was.
He lay there for a while, listening to the soft sound of Potter’s breathing before slowly drifting off into sleep.
---
I hope people won’t be disappointed with the way things are progressing.
Special thanks to snottygrrl and luciology for their help and inspiration.
Part One -- Part Two -- Part Three -- Part Four --Part Five -- Part Six -- Part Seven -- Part Eight -- Part Nine -- Part Ten -- Part Eleven -- Part Twelve -- Part Thirteen
Choices, Part Fourteen (Revised)
Harry didn’t often suffer from embarrassment now he was older. Things had been different when he’d been younger and had first come to Hogwarts; back then it had been strange to realise that other people actually know who he was and their stares had often made him feel self-conscious. Before Hogwarts no one had ever taken any notice of him and he wasn’t used to being the centre of attention.
Then came the war and during those years he’d experienced so many things to the point he never thought he would ever feel awkward or embarrassed ever again. He’d learned how to cope with the gawking and the finger pointing, and he even knew how to deal with the press now, including people like Rita Skeeter.
But nothing could have ever prepared him for the sight of Draco Malfoy in his bath, naked as the day he was born and clearly completely at ease with the fact someone else was watching - staring - at him.
Harry swallowed, shocked and confused at his own reaction to the situation. After all, he’d seen the man undressed the previous night, but that whole situation had been entirely different, Draco had been injured and Harry had been trying to help. But now things had switched round completely and this was just Draco naked.
He was trying not to stare; trying not to look at parts of the other man that he shouldn’t be looking at. And he wished fervently that he still wore glasses. Glasses might get steamed up and he wouldn’t be able to see and maybe if he couldn’t see, his own body wouldn’t be feeling like this. Heat pooled in his groin.
Then Draco held out his hand and the bath sponge he was holding dripped thick globules of white soapy foam on the floor. “Hello, Harry. Would you like to scrub my back?”
Harry clutched at the doorjamb with his hand, aware that his nails were digging into the wood, before doing the only thing he could think of doing.
He fled.
Not very far, but far enough so he didn’t have to look at that wet hair or damp skin or soapy hands, because if he didn’t look then maybe his own body would start behaving itself.
Once in the relative safety of the lounge, Harry considered just leaving. He could go and come back later when Draco ... Malfoy (think of him as Malfoy, Harry) was in bed or dressed or both. Then he would be able to act as if nothing had ever happened.
But all there was between him and the other man was one closed door and he could hear the sound of splashing water. In his mind’s eye he could see Draco Malfoy climbing from the bath and carefully towelling himself dry with one of Harry’s big fluffy white towels.
Harry began pacing, hoping that the movement would diminish his half-hard erection. He shouldn’t, mustn’t, be turned on by, of all people, Draco Malfoy; it just wasn’t right. Malfoy was a ... a.... With a growl of annoyance, he paused at the window and rested his forehead against the cool glass. Draco Malfoy slept with other people for money and Harry didn’t need to pay for sex with anyone, especially not with an ex-Death Eater.
But....
But there was a niggling little voice in the back of his mind that kept wondering what it would feel like to have Malfoy’s mouth on his nipples and Malfoy’s hand down his trousers.
He gave a huff of annoyance, which misted the glass. It wasn’t that the idea of being sexually attracted to another man shocked him. In fact, if he was honest, his sex life had never been much to write home about; he’d always been too busy fighting Voldemort to form any romantic attachments and those he did seemed doomed to failure. When he’d married Ginny he had hoped things would change, but it hadn’t. Sex was okay, but not world shattering, at least not for him, though Ginny seemed happy enough with it at the time.
Then he’d started disappearing to Muggle London and his married life had slowly fallen apart around him. Ginny had stopped having sex with him and eventually started going out with Lee Jordan; she’d even told him that if he found someone else she wouldn’t mind. The only problem was that he felt guilty about having sex with another woman while he was still officially married to Ginny, so he’d remained celibate.
Then while on one of his sojourns into Muggle London, he’d gone to a different club and found a whole new world of vibrant young men and music that made his nerves zing with pleasure. He’d danced and touched and been touched, and then someone had tossed him off.
God it had felt so good and the man had kissed his nipples through his shirt and....
His flagging erection began to return and Harry struggled not to drop his hand down to his crotch.
He banged his head lightly against the glass as he tried to work through the conflicting thoughts crashing through his mind. If he was happy being tossed off by another man, then what was his problem with that man being Draco Malfoy? Was it because Malfoy sold himself for sex or was it because Malfoy would only ever consider having sex with Harry if he paid for it?
Harry found his mind wandering back to how he’d found Draco the previous night - beaten up, dressed in women’s clothing with smeared lipstick and a bow in his hair. How humiliating and degrading was that? There was a part of him that wondered if Draco had allowed that to happen because he liked it ... wanted to be treated in that way by people such as Reynolds.
But there had been something in those grey eyes, first in that awful flat and then back here when he’d helped Draco heal his broken arm. It had been fear but there had also been something that Harry thought might just be hope.
Wasn’t Harry responsible in an indirect way for what had happened? After all, he’d been one of the people who’d condemned Draco to living in this version of hell. And if that were the case, wasn’t he as culpable as the likes of Reynolds for the bruises that currently marred Draco’s skin?
---
Draco squeezed the sponge out over himself, the soapy foam running down his chest. There was something eminently satisfying about watching Harry Potter go all shades of awkwardness. He’d waited a very long time for this opportunity, but even more satisfying was the knowledge that a large part of Potter’s embarrassment was due to the fact the Boy Who Lived had been just a little turned on by having Draco Malfoy in his bath. Oh, Potter would deny it, but Draco had seen that look in too many eyes not to recognise it in those green ones. Besides, he first met the man in a gay club, so he was sure Potter wasn’t adverse to sexual exploits with his own sex.
He waited for the sound of a door slamming or some indication that Potter had fled further than just out of sight, but there was nothing. Of course, he wouldn’t have heard Potter Apparating from the flat, so there was still every possibility that the ‘brave’ Gryffindor had left.
But if Potter hadn’t left then, Draco decided, this might just be the opportunity he’d been contemplating since waking up in that wonderful bed. Potter had two things that he wanted at the moment.
First, there was this flat. Having spent the day here, Draco knew he had no desire whatsoever to return to his own flat except to collect his belongings. If he could somehow persuade Potter to let him stay, at least until Draco sorted out his life, then this could be exactly the break he’d been looking for.
Second, Potter was still the Wizarding world’s Golden Boy. With his patronage, Draco might be able to get his banishment commuted and return to the Wizarding community. That was where Draco really belonged and where he was desperate to return.
But he needed to play this carefully. If he came on too strongly, Potter might just baulk and throw him out. If he did nothing then Potter would think him an ungrateful leech and send him packing.
Draco stood up, watching as the water trickled down his body, leaving a slight sheen on his skin that glittered in the candlelight. It was a shame, he decided, that there weren’t any candles in the lounge. As he stepped from the bath, he considered his next move. If Potter was still here, he didn’t want to alarm the man by suddenly appearing in front of him naked. Instead he picked up a towel, wrapped carefully around his waist.
It was perfect. The towel looked like he’d casually thrown it on, but showed just the right amount of his hip, and the way he’d wrapped it accentuated the line of hair leading down from his navel. He hadn’t spent the last two years learning how to display himself well for nothing.
He quickly towelled some of the moisture from his hair ... he wanted it to still be a little wet, but not in rat’s tails ... and used his fingers to comb it in just the way he liked it. Then, with a practiced smirk on his face, he left the bathroom.
But there was a light on in Potter’s bedroom, bright after the candles in the bathroom, and he caught his reflection in a wall mirror. The healing he’d done the previous night had masked some of the bruising left by Reynolds and his thugs, but the marks had not disappeared completely. He stared at the glass and touched the faded blue/black marks on his side. There were also fingerprint-sized bruises along his throat and when he turned slightly he could see where someone had ground their shoe into the small of his back.
Draco blinked in surprise at his appearance. How had he ended up like this? Having to have sex with people for money, being beaten by the likes of Reynolds, and now contemplating sleeping with Potter just so he’d have somewhere safe to sleep. What would his mother and father think of their son and heir giving fellatio to the Dark Lord’s nemesis? For once he was grateful neither were around to see what he’d become.
He contemplated for a moment just disappearing into the other bedroom, but sooner or later he would have to deal with Potter and this whole situation. But he couldn’t seduce him with bruises like this. There was a white towelling robe hanging on the bathroom door and, quickly pulling it on, he studied his reflection again. It hid the marks and he decided to leave it unfastened.
Then taking a calming breath he made his way into the lounge.
The room was almost in darkness, lit just from the glow of the light still on in the bedroom. Potter was standing by the huge floor-to-ceiling window, his back to Draco and Draco knew that how he played the next few minutes would either make or break everything.
He padded silently across the room and stopping a few feet from Potter he whispered “Harry.”
The man turned and at first Potter just looked at him and then he really looked as if seeing Draco for the first time. The green eyes widened in what Draco thought might be fear and Potter stepped back banging into the glass with such force that Draco thought it might smash. Automatically he grabbed at the man’s arm to stop him falling if the glass did break, but Potter sidestepped away from him, stumbling behind a nearby chair as if wanting to put something between himself and Draco.
Draco couldn’t fail to notice the erection tenting the other man’s trousers before he’d slipped behind the protection of the chair, but that wasn’t what stopped Draco in his tracks. What stopped him was the fear radiating off Potter - fear of him.
He’d seen fear like that once before when Reynolds had asked him to keep an eye on one of his boys. The request wasn’t unusual; the boy was really pretty and Reynolds didn’t want anyone else to poach him. The fear on the boy’s face when Reynolds had told him what he would have to do for his bed and board had fazed Draco completely. Then he’d found out the boy was only fourteen and a runaway.
Draco remembered fear like that when he’d first woken up in the Muggle world. To find himself so completely out of his depth and in a world without the magic he’d known all his life had been such a shock to his system that there had been times he’d felt like his mind and body were both shutting down. That boy didn’t belong in Reynolds’s world either and while Draco knew he couldn’t do anything about his own situation, he did realise there was something he could do for the boy.
That night he’d put the boy on a train back home with as much cash as he could spare. The gesture had lead to the first ever beating from Reynolds, but Draco hadn’t cared. It had been worth it to receive a postcard a few weeks later with just the word Thanks written on it.
The boy had been dark haired, just like Potter, and the look on Potter’s face right now took him back to that moment sixteen months ago. Suddenly his earlier plans disappeared. He couldn’t do this ... not unless Potter really wanted it and actually asked him to do it.
Taking a breath, he gave a half-smile. “Hope you didn’t mind me using your bath, Potter.”
The other man’s mouth opened and closed, and finally he managed to form the words, “That’s okay.” The tension in his shoulders seemed relaxed just a little.
“Good. I’ll see you in the morning then. Goodnight.” He turned on his heel.
“What?” The voice behind him was small and a little high-pitched. “You’re going to bed?”
Draco glanced back over his shoulder. “I’m tired. I think it’s the after-effects of yesterday’s magic, so I’m going to turn in.” He continued on his journey to the bedroom. Behind him, he heard movement and knew Potter had left the safety of the chair.
“I’m not like the others.”
The tone was intense and it made Draco pause and turn round. He said nothing but raised a questioning eyebrow.
“I’m not like the ones who use you. I wouldn’t....” Potter’s fists clenched and unclenched reflexively and even in the dim lighting Draco could see a flush of colour on the man’s cheeks. “I’m not like Reynolds and the others.”
Draco gave a single nod, “I know, Harry, I know,” and continued on his journey from the room.
---
Draco awoke in darkness and realised immediately that there was someone else in the room with him. Adrenaline surged through his body, waking him completely before he had the sense to realise it could only be one person.
He lay still, waiting for his eyes to adjust and slowly a figure sitting on the chaise by the window became clear. He couldn’t see Potter’s features, but the outline was strikingly familiar. Turning on his side towards the man, he pulled the sheet over his bare shoulder. The movement seemed to stir the seated figure and finally Potter spoke.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
Draco shrugged even though his nocturnal visitor most likely couldn’t see the gesture. “It’s your flat. You have the right to go wherever you want.”
“No ... you’re a visitor and this is your room. But I couldn’t sleep and ... well....” The voice faded.
“Well what?” Draco kept his tone neutral and soft.
“It’s stupid really, but when I can’t sleep listening to someone else breathing helps.”
It hadn’t been the response Draco had expected and he wasn’t sure how to respond. He was just going to make some random comment when Harry continued, the voice sounding small in the darkness.
“I wouldn’t have ... you know ... done anything. I was just going to sit here for a while.” There was a rustle of movement as Harry stood. “I’ll go now. Sorry.”
Draco quickly sat up, baffled by the other man’s words. Then he remembered Harry’s earlier comment of I’m not like the others. Harry seemed to be attempting to reassure Draco that he wasn’t planning anything untoward. “Wait.”
Harry stopped at the foot of the bed. “What?”
“How did you find me yesterday? I never told you where I lived.”
“The Ministry. They’re tracking you.”
“Really?” Draco was astonished. He’d assumed that once the Ministry of Magic had carried out his sentence they would have just forgotten all about him. Were they still really keeping track of him?
Harry nodded. “They track all of the banished ... well, most of you. Some have been lost and....” He paused, clearly considering his next words. “Why do you do it?”
“Do what?” Draco understood Potter’s question completely, but he would be damned if he was answering without Potter actually saying the words. He felt the corner of the bed give a little as Potter sat down on it.
“Sleep with people.”
“Because I like to eat.” His tone was suitably sardonic. The last thing he wanted now was Potter’s condescension.
“I didn’t mean that. Why are you still doing it? After all, it’s been two years since you came here.”
It was an interesting question. The fact was Draco had been trying to get save enough money to get away from London and maybe set up a business somewhere else. He had some in a safety deposit box but every time he thought he’d got sufficient to make the break, something happened and he ended up back on the streets. “Don’t you think I’d get out of this if I could?”
“I don’t know. Do you like it?”
“Getting beaten up?”
“No, not that.” Potter shifted slightly and Draco watched as the shadowy shape of the other man curled up on the end of the bed. He grinned ... maybe Potter was a cat Animagus. “I mean the sex.”
“Sometimes it’s okay, but would you like having sex with someone you don’t know?”
“Is it....” The embarrassment in Potter’s voice was almost palpable. “Just with men?”
“No.” His voice became controlled. “I take women out to dinner when they want a companion and sometimes they like a little late-night entertainment. Occasionally they just want the entertainment.”
“If you had the chance to get out of it, would you?”
“Do you really need to ask that?”
“No, I guess not.”
They both fell into silence and Draco listened to the slow change in the other man’s breathing. Potter was clearly falling asleep. When Potter finally spoke again, there was an almost childlike tiredness to his voice.
“You can stay here if you want.”
Draco didn’t answer because he knew Potter would probably forget what he’d said in the morning. They often did that ... promised him things and then gone back on their word. Instead he pulled at the bedspread and tugged it over Potter. He considered for a moment whether to find somewhere else to sleep, but finally decided to stay where he was.
He lay there for a while, listening to the soft sound of Potter’s breathing before slowly drifting off into sleep.
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