When You Say Yes

WHEN YOU SAY YES

By Splendoured Thing

Contained in this file is the Prologue and Chapter 1

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Prologue

"Leave me paralyzed, love. Leave me hypnotized, love."

The Notwist -"Consequence"

Draco looked at Harry who was sleeping on the bed next to him, wearing only boxer shorts, nothing more. He loved to watch Harry sleep. It was those times early in the morning when he was able to drop all pretense and look at The Boy He Loved with nothing more than pure love and admiration. Harry was, quite possibly, Draco reckoned, the most beautiful and perfect human being imaginable. There were the stunning looks, the disheveled hair, the strong and defiant jaw line, and the most stunning eyes he had ever seen... which, although closed at the moment, still were beautiful in their shape and their form. Times like these, when he was left with nothing but this love for Harry, were the times when he wanted to tackle him and show him all of this love which surged through his veins like some dangerous sort of drug. He had never been addicted to anything before in his life, but Harry... Harry was this addiction he could, possibly, never get over. Thoughts like these scared him and only made Draco want him more.

This passion surged through him again, but he could contain himself no longer. He dove into the bed, tackling Harry and straddling his torso.

Harry opened one tired eye to see his attacker. "Draco?"

"I love it when you say my name," said Draco lazily.

"Draco..."

"Yes, just like that." He inched his hand on down Harry's chest, playin with Harry's abdomen like a piano. "I love it when you say my name. Especially when you say yes."

"Stop quoting The Who, you blubbering git. I should have never introduced you to Muggle music." Harry smiled without it reaching his eyes. Draco looked at him suspiciously.

"What's wrong, Mary Sunshine?" he asked, taking back his hand and crossing his arms across his chest. "Not having a pleasant morning?"

"Nothing's wrong," Harry lied obviously, wringing his hands. Harry had never been good at lying.

"Don't lie to me. I know where you live." Draco smiled and motioned to the walls of Harry's Head Boy room with a lazy wave of his hand. The room had been their secret hiding place since the beginning of the year after Harry had accepted the position. It was messy, with Harry's Quidditch uniform tossed in a heap on the floor from the previous day. Books from the library were strewn on his old, big wooden desk, with wrinkled parchment and old editions of the Daily Prophet scattering the surface. Draco had used to chide Harry for his messiness but he had come to accept it as a part of Harry's personality.

"Nothing's wrong!" Harry said, once more smiling a fake smile.

"Fuck, Harry, did you have a dream again?"

Harry's brow furrowed into momentary confusion. "What?"

"Like a dream about old Voldie or whatever?"

"OH," Harry said, dawning with realization. "No. No dreams."

"What then?" Draco said, rolling off of Harry and onto the bed.

Harry looked at him long and hard. Draco could practically feel the intensity of Harry's stare on him. But the problem with Harry was that he could never read what the boy was thinking. Feeling -- well, there Harry was an open book. But trying to figure out what was running through his head... Well, Harry was a mystery, wrapped in a enchilada... or whatever that saying was. It was part of what made Draco love him as much as he did.

"Why do you always ask me that?" Harry's brow became knotted again.

"Um, because I care about you, you speccy git. I mean, honestly, sometimes I ask myself why I can because you're such a moron, but the world moves in mysterious ways."

Harry was silent again, but this time, not raising his eyes. Draco become worried suddenly. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Harry said nothing. He didn't even look up, only staring down at his scarlet quilt as if it were the most puzzling thing he had ever seen in his life.

"Fuck, Harry, tell me. I can't... I mean, honestly, we're about to graduate tomorrow and you can't have me worrying about something like this. It will make it that much harder to keep up the whole charade of hating you if I have to keep thinking about what's going on inside that thick head of yours."

Harry remained silent.

"Is it about your parents?"

Harry finally spoke. "No."

"What is it?"

"It's about us..."

"What about us?" Draco asked casually before he realized what was going on. But, in an instant, there it was: a sense of impending dread reached into him and clutched his heart like a sieve. Harry kept quiet once more. "Are you trying to tell me...?"

"I just think that there are some things that can never be fixed."

"Harry..." Draco lowered his voice to a whisper. "Don't do this. Don't..." He felt tears well up in his eyes and the dread reach up to the back of his throat. "...Please," he said in a choked murmur. "...Don't do this to me..."

Harry kept his head down. Draco saw a tear fall from the boy's face to the blanket. He reached a hand out to him and raised Harry's head up. His face was a mixture of unbearable sadness and grim determination. In an instant, Harry swatted Draco's hand away and looked down again.

"I can't do this anymore. I just... I can't. I don't even know if I'm gay, let alone all of the other implications that having a relationship with you would cause. It's just so complicated... And don't think that I haven't thought this over...Because I have. It's just... I just don't see how this could possibly work anymore."

The two of them sat silent.

"Do you not love me anymore?" Draco asked, trying hard not to let the desperation in his voice show.

"I do..." Harry started.

"Are you still in love with me?"

Harry nodded very slowly.

Draco crossed his arms. "Then I don't see what the problem is."

"There are more things in this life than love, Draco. I'm just starting to realize that. And there are things... things... between us... that I think will never go away, will always be there... Things that are beyond our control."

Draco stopped feeling the sadness and started feeling the anger. "You fucking bastard..." he hissed. "You fucking horrible... you fucking bloody BASTARD."

"...I'm sorry..." Harry whispered.

"Not as sorry as you're going to be," Draco said, and before he realized it, he punched Harry in the face. Harry looked up at him with dim surprise. He didn't fight back. Draco reached for him again, punching him with ferocity he had never felt in his 18 years.

"Fight back you bastard, just fucking fight back!" Draco roared, punching him in the jaw.

Harry only clutched his jaw and said meekly. "I don't want to. I deserve this."

"No, I'm sorry, but you don't get to act like a martyr. Not now!" Draco felt all of his love surge out of him and into the punches which he felt were physical manifestations of all of the love he had ever felt for Harry being shown in their true form: terrible, brutal, and violent... and it hurt. Ever since he had gotten involved with Harry he had ached to be closer. He had ached when he was not around him. He had hurt so hard when he saw Harry with other people, granting them small smiles that Draco liked to imagine were meant only for him. It was still love. Terrifying love... He felt an ache in the bottom of his stomach that was more painful than he could ever imagine.

He collapsed on the bed in heaving, desperate sobs. Harry got up from the bed and over to the sink in his room and stared in the mirror. Draco looked up at him and his reflection, noticing the black eye and gashes that were now covering Harry's once beautiful face. But, Draco knew, these battle scars were only temporary. They would be gone in a matter of weeks, just like Harry's love for him would soon leave.

"Don't worry," Draco said as he caught his breath and started putting on his clothing. He tasted the salty sting of his tears on his tongue. "I'll be out of your way soon enough."

Harry turned around without looking at him. "Draco..."

"If I can have it my way, you will never see me in this world again..."

Harry looked up with a surprised look of worry on his face.

"Draco..."

But Draco was already gone.

Chapter 1

"What's there riding on your everything? It isn't anything at all."

Modest Mouse - "Gravity Rides Everything"

"I never saw you up there, cos you never made a sound. If I knew what you were up to, I would have shot you down."

Beulah - "Gravity is Bringing Us Down"

Harry Potter got off of the airplane in a dazed look of wonderment. He had never been on an airplane before with the Dursley's, and in the magical world they had no use for them. He had always read about them before and seen them in movies but to be on one was entirely different. He had been placed in the coach section of the airplane but was given the front seat of the DC-10 and therefore, tons of leg room and no storage space. He was forced to keep his carry-on items, including his wand and some spell books, in the overhead storage containers. He had not slept a wink for nearly the entire flight but this dazed sense of wonderment (and worriment) precluded any sort of tiredness he might have felt.

WELCOME TO LOS ANGELES INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT a sign read as he made his way with his carry-ons to the baggage claim. Los Angeles. He grinned unhappily to himself. Of all places for Draco Malfoy to show up.

He got Super Shuttle (A great alternative to Floo-ing it! his wizard's guide to Los Angeles informed him.) He was placed in the van with several college students who were on their way back from Christmas Break. They chatted noisily until one of the girls looked at him like she was looking at a box of chocolates... Hungry and anxious to find out what was inside each morsel.

"Hey, where are you coming from?" She asked. He smiled, hearing the American accent. On the plane he had been surrounded with other English people which made him somewhat disappointed. If he was traveling to America, he wanted the full experience.

"England," he said and smiled at her.

Her face lit up brightly. "Oooh, we have an Englishman on our van. Aren't we lucky?"

"Depends on your definition of luck," Harry said.

"So are you here for business or pleasure?" she asked lightly. He could tell she wasn't trying to sound too slutty.

"Mostly business."

"First time to California?"

"First time to the States."

"You'll have to tell me how you find it," she said, winking a brown eye at him.

At the end of the van ride he was surprised to find himself at the entrance of a hotel on the Sunset Strip in possession of one sheet of paper with the name Amanda and a phone number on it. He looked around at his surroundings. The Standard, the sign on the hotel said upside down. Ah ha, clever irony, of course, Harry thought to himself. The building was lit with blue lights that accented the curves of the building. Across the street he saw several little shops and lots of drunken revellers making their way down the street. His eyes made his way to the large buildings that edged the street. He gasped. On one of the buildings was Draco and... some actress he did not recognize. MOSAIC, it read in giant green letters. DREW MANCHESTER, YVONNE MICHAELS. Underneath was written, "Sometimes the pieces just fit."

Draco was handsome, like usual. His face looked bored and anxious at the same time. His hair had apparently abandoned his old Helmet Hair incarnation and was instead disheveled, well, rather sexily Harry admitted to himself. Draco's eyes were still those light gray eyes that Harry used to look in for hours, seeing every emotion, understanding every nuance that he tried to hide. He stared up at the building for a few seconds longer, wondered why Draco's name was not on the billboard, then ventured inside to greet the hotel staff, who seemed very bored indeed.

He looked around at his surroundings, drinking in all of the trendy patrons to the bar, the trendy clothing they wore, the trendy drinks they drunk, and, yes, even the trendy way they styled their hair. He shook his head and wondered why the Ministery had ever sent him to a hotel like this. Usually they stuck the Aurors in the cheapest, shabbiest place possible. He wondered if this was perhaps a hangout for Draco or maybe there was someone here who knew him.

Upstairs, in his hotel room, things were slightly more normal and calm. The interior was sparse but comfortable, but not like he had been used to at home. He picked up a small blue orb that he had been keeping in his "laptop" case and opened it.

"Potter!" a voice yelped out of the ball. It was Commodore Perkins, an auror who liked to pretend that the Aurror divisions of the Ministry of Magic was actually some sort of mix between the military and James Bond. Which, of course, it was neither.

"Here, sir."

"Ah, did you just get in? What time is it over there?"

"About one p.m., sir."

"Good, good. Hopefully Mr. Malfoy is still staying in that hotel over there."

"Oh, so he is actually staying in this hotel... I was wondering."

"Yes, well, our operatives over there have informed us that he has actually been staying there for the past week or so. Don't know why, of course, but there you have it."

"Sir, if I may ask... Why did you send me and not another one of the Aurors?" Harry had been trying to figure this out ever since he had received the assignment.

"A little late to be wondering that, eh Potter?"

"Well, do you have an answer?"

"Of course I do!" The voice on the other side of the ball seemed unsure. "Of course I do, of course."

There was a about five minutes of dead air before Harry finally asked:

"Well, sir, what is it?"

"You're my best auror and plus, you have a history with Mr. Malfoy. Now, I realize that you kids may not have gotten along well in the past, but I'm counting on you to push your bad feelings aside and convince Mr. Malfoy that he needs to come back to England right away."

"Right," Harry said, not sounding convinced.

"Now get on with it," said Perkins. "We haven't got all the time in the world, you realize."

"Yup, I realize," said Harry. "I'm just not looking forward to it, is all."

"Good luck, may the force be with you." Harry rolled his eyes. He knew that Perkins was a big fan of muggle movies, and Harry was fairly sure that he had no idea how much he sounded like an idiot.

He closed the ball with a snap and looked over to the rest of his carryon items.

"Now or never," he whispered to himself. "Now... Draco..." He began unpacking his spell books and wand carefully and began his work. "...Come out, come out, wherever you are..."

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Draco Malfoy had a big fucking hangover. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think. It hurt to...

He looked over to his right and saw a handsome brunette snoring softly. He smiled.

He looked over to his left and saw a gorgeous redhead guy sleeping soundly. His grin widened. Suddenly, things didn't hurt as much anymore.

"I had a productive night last night," he said with pride.

"Sure seems like you did," said another voice in the room.

Draco looked up quickly and noticed a figure in the side of the room.

"Who's there?" he asked, feeling quite suddenly very naked indeed.

A figure appeared out of the shadows. He saw the body first -- slim without being skinny, defined without being bulky. He had memorized that body... The head appeared next, handsome, chiseled features and wide searching green eyes, hidden by glasses... And... that scar...

"Harry..." Draco gasped. "What the fuck...? What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to find you, you little tart." Harry smiled.

"Harry?" Draco was still in a state of shock. "I... I mean... God..."

"I know this isn't probably the most appropriate way to come and find you. I mean, I didn't know you had... company," he said and waved over to the two guys in the bed.

This seemed to make Draco remember who he was. "Okay," he said in clipped syllables. "Nice to see you again. Now I think that you should better be leaving."

"I can't do that Draco."

"Are you quite sure about that, Potter? Because I have two burly security guards waiting outside for an occasion such as this," he said and waved lazily towards the doorway. "Hey, how did you get in here anyhow? And how did you find me?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "For God's sake, Draco, I'm a wizard, you know."

"Hmm. Quite." Draco was very confused, and, now that he looked at him more closely, so did Harry. He was spending more time goggling at the other two men in the bed than paying attention to the task at hand.

"Would you like to join in?" Draco asked maliciously. "I mean, honestly, the amount of attention you're giving them I would have thought that you came here for them and not me. Unless that's the case." He jutted his chin out and crossed his arms.

Harry was taken aback. "Join in...? What? No... I thought you knew I'm not..."

"...Gay," Draco finished for him. "Yes, I know, so would you please stop looking like that at my toys?"

"Sure, I wasn't even looking at them in the first place," said Harry defiantly.

"Whatever you say," Draco said and put on his very best bored expression. "Will you please tell me why you're here or get out? This is bringing back bad memories."

"How about we go and get something to eat and leave... you know, here..."

"How 'bout no? How 'bout I just stay here and have wonderful meaningless sex with these fine boys and you skedaddle your little arse back to England. I'm quite happy here, thankyouverymuch."

"Okay, so let's talk here. It's about your fa--"

The door opened with a bang. A petite woman with an angular bob strode in aggressively with a day planner on which she was scribbling ferociously.

"Okay, Drew, so here's the agenda for today. I hope you appreciate that I let you sleep in this late, when we both know that you should have been up by at least 11," she ticked something off on the planner and checked her watch. "It's one now, by the way, in case you don't know. You have an appointment with your hair stylist at 3:30 and then with your clothing stylist at 5. You're going to have to do a phone interview for Rolling Stone between those two, by the way. It's the guy who ripped apart Ben Affleck last year so be careful with what you say and try to get on his good side. For dinner, you're going to Spago's with the producers (I hope you will at least try to act civil to them this time) and..." She looked up and noticed Harry.

"Oh, fuck Drew. ANOTHER one? Are you trying to go for a new gay orgy record?"
Draco's eyes twinkled. "You're forgetting last March, Emily."

"How are these guys going to leave, now, huh? Are you going to make me call Kate so she can cover your ass?"

"Would that be too much trouble?" asked Draco innocently.

"You realize that now Kate's becoming a bigger star than you she might not need to keep being your decoy," Emily said. She was tapping her foot impatiently.

"I'll cross the bridge when I get to it." Draco pretended to be very interested in his fingernails. "In any case, I was not having sexual intercourse with the gentleman over there." He paused and looked up at Harry who seemed very nervous and bewildered indeed. "He's an old... acquaintance of mine and is in town from England."

"Oh," said Emily. "Oh cool. Nice to meet you. I'm Drew's assistant, Emily Bower." She offered her hand to him.

"Drew?" Harry looked lost.

"Ah, right," he said and without another word threw Harry a copy of the latest Variety. There was a picture of Draco on the front with the words DREW MANCHESTER SIGNS 3 MOVIE DEAL.

"Drew Manchester?"

"I figured that keeping the initials would do me well and help me remember my new name, you know?"

"I didn't know you changed your name, Drew," Emily said, her eyebrows raised. "What's your real name?"
Harry started to answer before Draco put a hand up. "It's not important. Not important at all," he said and smiled sweetly at her before nudging the two men on either side of him. "Wake up. I gotta go."

The two forms on either side of him grunted and eventually woke up. They wordlessly put on their pants and each gave Draco a kiss on the cheek before looking suspiciously at Harry and leaving the room, holding hands.

"Yeah, call Kate, so I can get going, okay Emily?" He looked over to Harry. "Honestly, you know, I should have just entered the business out-of-the-closet, like Rupert Everett or something." He rolled his eyes. "It's been such a hassle. But also, gay guys don't get the good parts. I mean, when I came to Hollywood, I did experiment with the whole straight thing, but I really found that it just doesn't suit me."

"Um, right." Harry shifted his weight uncomfortably and seemed desperate for a new topic. "Er, I didn't know you were a movie star."

Emily's jaw opened in a large circle of surprise. "Oh wow, I'm so glad I'm not your publicist, Drew. I know that Becca would have a heart attack if she heard that one." She addressed Harry, "So like, what? Have you been under a rock in a cave on Mars for the past four years or are you just completely oblivious?"

"The second one," Draco answered for Harry. "It's nothing new, though. Harry's kind hardly ever pays attention to what happens in this world." Draco looked at Harry with a sort of aggressive stare.

"So do you have time for lunch, Dra-ew? I would like to discuss some important business with you." He stared at Draco intensely.

"You know, I don't think I actually will today. I'm just so busy..." he yawned. "Isn't that right, Emily?"

"Yeah, it's true..." Emily lowered her voice. "... but God, Drew, this guy is just your type. So cute, if you don't want him, I'll take him."

Draco gave her a very unappreciative look.

"Not... Helping..." he hissed.

"Okay, okay!" Harry waved his arms in the air in front of him. "I'm standing right here! Right here! Here I am! Please don't talk about me as if I am not." Harry frowned, and put on the look he often had when he was completely lost and bewildered. Draco felt his heart jump a little bit, seeing a glimpse of that boy he had once loved. Harry had taken on almost exactly that same expression after their first time together... he had looked so frightened... like a little lost puppy. Draco knew then that he only wanted to take care of him and protect him. Forever and always and the only one in the world who was allowed to hurt Harry was... well, himself. He was so beautiful, Draco thought, in his own way, both inside and out. Draco liked 'em tortured, with a hero complex. Harry was that, and then some. He was a genuinely decent human being, something that Draco never considered himself. And if he (Draco) was the only one who could hurt him (Harry), then the same could be true for the reverse. And it was true, to a certain extent. Nobody had hurt Draco since Harry had hurt him. And for that, he could blame Harry no more.

"Fuck Potter, you're going to make this migraine worse if you keep blubbering on like a complete idiot," he sighed. "I accept your invitation to go to lunch." He held out a hand like a king (or queen) would to his (or her) subjects.

Harry gave a relieved smile (that shit-eating grin that Draco always had liked to pretend was reserved specifically for him) and sat down in the chair, waiting for Draco to get dressed.