When You Say Yes

"A little less conversation, a little more action, please."

Elvis Presley - "A Little Less Conversation."

"You're an obsession. You're my obsession. Who do you want me to be to make you sleep with me?"

- Animation - "Obsession"

Draco zoomed through his meetings with the stylists -- both gay, both wanting desperately for a piece of Draco's "hot ass" -- and his dinner with the producers -- they wanted him to do a nude scene in this next movie but he politely informed them that while his conscience was not bothered by the concept of nudity in films, his wallet had another opinion -- but the whole time, he could think of nothing but Harry's sudden reappearance.

He knew he had played it cool, he knew that Harry was anxious and bothered by seeing Draco again. But the question in Draco's head remained -- Why had he come? Why had Harry accepted this assignment if had a shred of feeling left in him for Draco? For Draco, breaking up with Harry had been a lot like having a loved one go missing in action during a war... he knew that the likelihood of the relationship returning was slim but there was a chance that it could return out of the blue. Part of him was angry with Harry. He had mourned him as if he were dead. He had partly wished to never see him again, hoping to be able to get on with his life. Yet here he was, again, like old times... hardly changed at all.

As he drove up the sinuous curves of the Mulholland Highway, he remembered those times on the Quidditch pitch when he sat silently watching Harry dive in and out of dangerous positions, twirling on his broom like it were the most natural thing in the world. He would sneak away from the Slytherin common rooms and sit motionless in the bushes by the quidditch pitch, so silently that sometimes he was afraid to breathe because he didn't want to be caught. As he sat at a traffic light he momentarily closed his eyes and remembered seeing Harry's flushed cheeks in the cold winter wind, always trying to go higher and faster. Always trying to reach the next level.

A car honked behind him as he stalled at a green light and he quickly stepped on the accelerator. He had loved Harry then, before everything, before he could even admit it to himself. These times, he had tried to convince himself at the time, were not about admiring Harry. They were about trying to see new moves that Harry might use on the Quidditch pitch.

Of course, it was all bollocks in the end. One day, sixth year, he knocked back about eight pints of butterbeer and ventured onto the grass while Harry was in the middle of a dive. Draco often liked to relive that moment when Harry looked so surprised he knocked himself off his broom and onto Draco. Draco remembered the cold sweat on Harry's arms. His heartbeat, already rapid from the exercise was now practically jumping out of his shirt. He smelled like grass and soap and the muskiness of sweat.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Harry had asked, his eyes wide. "How long have you been here?"

Draco remembered his drunkenness fading rapidly as he sobered up, seeing the boy he had admired from afar so close to him. He couldn't, to this day, exactly remember what he had expected by coming onto the field, only that he knew he had to do it. As he confronted Harry, however, he was at a loss for words.

"I just came to say... uh. Hello. So, hello, Harry Potter." Draco couldn't meet Harry in the eyes. "I guess I'd better be off." He turned and started to walk away.

"Hold on." Harry grabbed Draco by the arm and spun him around. "Were you trying to steal my moves? You sneaky little..." Harry pulled him in closer. "...I thought you were a cheat, but I didn't think you were this low." Draco remembered the feel of Harry's rapid breath on his cheek. He had turned his face to meet Harry's eyes, green and big and tinged with rage.

Draco did not know how to respond to this. Instead, he moved in closer and attempted a different technique. "Intimidated, Potter?"

Harry's eyes widened with surprise before quickly snapping back to an angry stare. "Never by you, Malfoy. You could never intimidate me."

"You really think so?"

"I know so."

Draco stepped in another pace. Their noses almost touched. Their breath mingled together in the cold... white gusts of hot air that mixed and raised over their heads to gather in a white cloud of sexual tension. Harry bit his lip anxiously, as if he was trying to figure out what was exactly going on. Draco himself couldn't tell, not until he had bent in slowly, keeping his eyes on Harry's. With an almost imperceptible motion, he touched Harry's lips. It was so slight that if Harry had not responded, he could have denied it and said that he had slipped on the icy grass.

But, Harry did respond. He bent forward into the kiss. Their eyes, open for the first touch, were now closed. They explored every inch of each other's mouths with a probing, searching, searing kiss that seemed like it had gone on for hours. Harry lifted an exploratory hand up to Draco's hair and caressed his head, bringing him closer.

As they parted, they both opened their eyes and gasped out of shock, surprise, and eagerness. The kiss had been electric -- like two halves making a whole... two wrongs making a very delicious right. Something without words had passed between them, something that words could never express. That inexplicable flip of emotion where hatred becomes love had transpired.

"We can't tell anyone," said Harry and Draco nodded.

"Nobody has to know," said Draco.

"Nobody has to know," Harry repeated, his mouth stretching into a wide gleeful grin. "Nobody has to fucking know!" He aggressively bent in to kiss Draco.

They said nothing for the rest of the night as they continued... Draco remembered the feeling of forbidden joy he had as he had bent down in front of Harry and unzipped his pants and took him into his mouth. It wasn't his brain that was making him do this, but instinct. Everything about this just seemed so right somehow. Like there was nothing more natural in the world than sucking Harry Potter's cock. Draco had stared up at Harry, whose face was contorted into a face of ecstasy and want, and realized that he might be in trouble. He had never wanted to be with someone as much in his life.

Draco thought back to that night with a sort of twisted fondness. He had, back then, considered Harry to be a cut at the top of his mouth... maybe he would have gone away if he had just stopped tonguing him. As if Harry was an addiction that maybe he could cure one day with the right amount of will-power. The entire situation was extremely difficult to deal with, and wasn't something that he easily gave himself into. There were the whole host of issues -- "I'm not gay," "What would my father say?" "What would anybody say?" "I'm not GAY!" -- that invaded his skull. He needed to talk about it with somebody, somebody who understood...

That turned out to be Harry, as he was obviously going through the same sort of problems himself. He and Harry would talk for hours about their relationship, which then turned into other things... Quidditch, how Harry was being treated unfairly by Snape, how Draco was constantly irritated by his father... It was like table tennis... the conversation was so deft and maneuverable that they ended up talking about anything and everything... it was good, it was great, it was the time of Draco's life.

But it was also... over.

Draco drove along the winding road, eventually turning left onto the Pacific Coast Highway. His top was down, the wind flipping his hair all over his face and around his perfect features. He glanced to the right, seeing the waves of the high tide crash against the Malibu beach as the sun set on the sharp horizon where the water met the sun. He sped through the traffic, going 70 miles per hour, trying his hardest to avoid the crush of traffic on both sides of him while admiring the scenery. On his right hand side was nature, consistent and beautiful, and on his left was civilization -- the gaudy lights of the Sunset Strip greeting him with a bright phosphorescent glow. Sex shops, strip clubs, night clubs, trendy restaurants and wannabe movie stars littered the landscape. He smiled grimly, jettisoned around several expensive automobiles and made his way to The Standard -- the trendy hotel located thirty minutes away from his home where he could have as much meaningless gay sex as he wanted without any of the damaging guilt or bad press. He parked, tossed his keys to the valet attendant and made his way inside.

He wasn't quite prepared to take on Harry. The stupid banter from earlier in the day was a prime example of his best defence mechanism... one that he had honed from an early age in order to reduce the strain of his own self-doubt and insecurities. A wave of resentment flashed in him.

Nobody had asked him if it was all right that his one and only love had come back into his life. Nobody had asked him if it was cool with him that his whole entire existence, one he had spent a good five years shaping and trying to tweak into perfection, had been disrupted by the visit of the only person who actually made him feel anything. When he meant that he never wanted to see Harry Potter in that world... that wizarding world in England... he had meant it. Anger surged through him and he felt a passion (was it hatred?) that he had not felt in years course through his veins.

Draco made his way up the elevator, tapping his expensive shoes impatiently as the numbers flickered from floor to floor. At the penthouse suite he stomped on by his bodyguards and into the room where Harry Potter was standing, looking through the window at the other side of the room with his hands clasped behind his back, looking as calm as a clear summer day.

Harry turned around, his messy hair falling into his face and gave Draco a small smile.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"Like what?" Draco asked gruffly.

Harry motioned to his outfit. He was wearing Diesel blue jeans and a form fitted red shirt that had a faded photograph on it with the words, "Hard drugs made me a better person." Draco wanted to laugh. Harry had never touched a hard drug in his life. Apparently he was into the whole irony thing. Somehow he seemed like a different person standing in front of him. Even his glasses were different. Draco had noticed upon first seeing Harry that his glasses were no longer the nerdy round black frames but had become gold oval frames that suited his face better. In place of these were frameless glasses that complemented his face perfectly. Draco gawked for a second, then remembered himself.

"Where did you get all that stuff?"

"Um..." Harry scrunched his face. "Blarney's? Bernie's? Something like that."

"Barney's."

"Oh. Yeah you wouldn't believe the prices in there. It was nuts."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I am going to forget that you said that, considering that it was my personal assistant and my credit card you used in order to secure those purchases."

"Right. Right." Harry smiled wide.

Draco moved over to the mini-bar. "Would you like a drink?"

Harry shook his head. "No, can't."

Draco made himself a gin and tonic and turned around giving Harry a cruel smile. "Let me guess, that's rule number 24 in the Official Auror Handbook: No drinking on the job."

"Rule 56, actually."

"Pity. I was so close."

"That doesn't matter. Listen, Draco, I don't know how to repay you..."

"I think you could repay me by leaving my sight and never seeing me again," Draco said casually, taking a sip of his drink.

Harry paused. "...What?"

"I like my life, right now, as it stands. I have a good job, an excellent career in front of me. I can shag whoever I want to, whenever I want to. I have a good network of people who I can trust when I need to." He looked at Harry with his gray eyes glinting in the setting sun. "The bottom line is that I don't want you here."

Draco would have bet good money on how he expected Harry to deal with this news. He would have expected Harry to look forlorn, protest very slightly, then leave the room without any further disruption. But instead, all Harry did was smile.

"Did you not hear me?" Draco demanded, using a voice he had used in one of his films where he played a military officer. "Leave!"

Harry looked down at his feet playfully then looked up with a wide grin. "You're hilarious, Draco."

"What are you talking about?" Draco felt really helpless now. He had never in a million years expected this sort of response from Harry. "Go away! I don't want you here!"

"Oh, no? What about a nice, long shag? You want that?" Harry had a malicious glint in his eyes that Draco most certainly did not like.

"NO! NOW GET OUT!" Draco stuck a trembling hand towards the door. All of this emotion, all of these tears had been pent up inside of him for five years and were finally, slowly, making their way to the surface. "LEAVE NOW... or I'll make you leave."

"Oh come now Draco," Harry said, his voice softening. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you or anything. I just..."

Draco stared down at the floor in front of him. "Will you please leave?"

"No," Harry said, coming over to Draco and taking him by the shoulders. "You said you would talk to me about what we have to talk about. So that's what we're going to do. I'll leave afterwards if you still want me to." He sat him down at a chair located next to the window and sat himself in the one next to it.

Draco was shuddering from the release of emotion.

Harry put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. "Is that offer for a drink still good?"

Draco looked up with wide, wild eyes lined with red and nodded meekly.

"Okay then," Harry said and rose to the bar. He made two screwdrivers (Draco had sworn by them at the end of Hogwarts -- saying that it was better than any medicine and that his mother had given it to him as a child when all the flu medicines hadn't worked.) and returned to the chair. Draco looked like shit, nothing like he had looked like earlier in the day... calm, cool, steady, nonchalant. Harry finally saw this raw portrait of a man, still rough with the edges of childhood, and recognized that boy he had once loved. This scared him... he had thought that Draco had been a fluke... carefree experimentation by kids who didn't know any better. He knew he had loved Draco, but maybe not more than he had loved a friend. But seeing Draco now rushed all those feelings back. Seeing Draco now hurt him more than he ever thought he could be hurt.

Rather than vocalize these sentiments, Harry downed the screwdriver in two big gulps and went to the bar to fix another.

"Harry." Draco's voice was rough and raw

"Yeah?" Harry tried to keep his voice light, if not for his own sake, then for Draco's.

"...Give me another. I've finished mine."

"Right."

Like all things between Harry and Draco, trying to outdo each other translated to drinking as well. It was so ingrained in their nature that they did not even realize what they were doing until the orange juice and vodka was all gone. They then ran through the rest of the contents of the mini bar... All sorts of schnapps (peach, raspberry, peppermint, etc), whiskey, gin, Bailey's (which Draco professed to be his favorite, even if it was Very Girly and Not A Man's Drink), the shitty American beer that was, unfortunately, a staple, and any other sort of alcoholic drink they could get their hands on and then show up the other.

"We need more!" exclaimed a very drunken Draco as if he were realizing that the world was about to collide with the moon.

"Whassat?" Harry said, lifting his head lazily.

"More. We need it," Draco giggled.

"Let's go get some then." Harry began to get up.

"NO!" Draco said, pulling him back down. "What if they see us?"

"Where?"

Draco looked outside with a paranoid stare. "Out THERE," he said, pointing a drunken finger to the lamp at the side of a table then moving it towards the window.

Harry gently put Draco's finger down. "Nobody will recognize me here, c'mon," Harry said, getting up again.

"You are a giant pill. Of course they won't recognize you, you stupid stinking wanker. They'll recognize me."

"OH. Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot you're famous. How do you like it?"

"It's fun. I don't know why you complained so much."

Harry shrugged. "I'm not a whore by nature, like some people I know." He chuckled and Draco gave him a small slap on the arm.

"Hey, I'm not," he said, giving a flirty smile.

"No, you just like to get young, impressionable boys in your bed so you can shag them senseless. So I guess that would make you a whore patron, rather than a whore."
"Exactly. I would never sell my body. It's too precious." Draco began to admire his forearm, flexing it by contracting his hand.

"And worth thousands of dollars, I'm sure."

"Actually, yes, but I'm contractually obligated not to talk about it. Besides, every penis wants to be famous. Except for maybe you."

"In any case," Harry cleared his throat as if he had not heard the last statement. "You have changed so much yet so little. It's very strange."

"I can't tell if you've changed or not. I'm thinking not," Draco said, staring into his drink as if it held the wonders of the world within it. "Say, who's winning?"

"Um. Dunno..." Harry looked into space.

"That means me, doesn't it?"

"Maybe. But I will deny, deny, deny if pressed any further," Harry said and smiled.

"Loser."

"Wanker."

"Prude."

"Slut."

"Oh, so now I'm a slut?"

"A slut with a capital S. And then capitals L.U.T. for added emphasis."

"In that order? I so wanted to be a SULT."

"That wasn't very clever."

"Cleverness goes down the more you drink. Scientific fact."

"Winston Churchill would have something to say about that. In fact, so would most comedians."

"Okay, so I'm not very clever. I am damn sexy, however."

Harry felt himself blush. He cleared his throat.

"Mr. Potter! Was that an affirmation in the positive?"

"No," Harry said. Draco looked disappointed. "Well, I mean, obviously the whole world can see that you're sexy if you're all over movie billboards and everything. I mean, Draco, you're a movie star."

"No way, you don't say?"

"Cut the sarcasm, pretty boy."

"I am rather pretty, aren't I?"

Harry just grinned at him. Draco looked at him for a moment, as if trying to decide something, then leaned in slowly and carefully over the small table. He hesitated for a moment, an inch away from Harry's mouth. He could smell the alcohol on Harry's breath and looked up at him with wondering eyes. Harry looked back at him for a moment and then suddenly pressed his lips against Draco's. He responded in kind, not sure of his own actions, not sure of anything that was going on.

Harry kept the kiss going, carefully lifting Draco out of his chair, lips still firmly pressed together, and towards the bed. Draco finally released and looked into Harry's green eyes, big and bewildered... and quite drunk. Draco sighed.

"I can't do this," he said.

"Why not?" asked Harry. He pulled Draco by the collar of his shirt and onto him, drawing him into a kiss.

Draco didn't resist, falling onto Harry and into the kiss with a ferocious intensity that was built up over the past five years. Then he broke away, remembering himself. "Because you're drunk."

"No, I'm not," lied Harry. "Not very, anyway. Come here." He cupped Draco's face in his hands. Harry wanted this so badly, Draco could tell from the way he was kissing him. Draco responded in kind... after all, who was he to resist a potentially fantastic fuck? He felt Harry's erection growing in his new jeans and sighed happily.

"You have no idea how long I have waited for this," he said, messily kissing Harry on the mouth as he reached for the denim jacket and took it off with one quick, sweeping motion.

"I... think... I have... a pretty... good... idea..." said Harry between kisses. He began to unbutton Draco's white button up shirt. It took awhile, but he finally maneuvered it off of Draco's shoulders. Draco pushed his erection into Harry, who let out a soft sound of surprise and eagerness in response.

"And how long have you waited for this?" Draco teased as he unbuttoned Harry's jeans with several short flicks of his hand. He pulled them downward towards Harry's ankles.

Harry said nothing, only kissed him harder. Draco had always loved the way Harry tasted... it was a slightly sweet taste that was sour as soon as their mouths parted.

Draco felt Harry's hand move down to his own trousers carefully, clumsily unbuttoning the fly. They were now naked, together, for the first time in five years and, Draco thought, the time had done Harry well. His body was fit and toned and manly. Well-developed. Maybe all of that stupid Auror training was actually good for something. He wondered if he should ask his personal trainer at their next session how it would be possible to make his pecs look that good.

He had always considered himself the better looking of the two, if he looked at each of them objectively, but now he was not so sure. Harry was handsome. There was no getting around that. Seeing this matured version of Harry made Draco practically squirm with pleasure.

Harry noticed this.

"Do you see something you like?" Harry smiled lazily.

"I see a lot of things I like. Like that lamp, and that chair... and that," he said, pointing to Harry's erection. "I really do like that."

"It's not for sale, sorry," said Harry, throwing his head back in a laugh before whipping it back to face Draco with a large smile.

"Well, how do I get it then?"

"You're going to have to show me you really want it..."

"How bout if I show it that I really want it?" Draco's lips curved upward into a mischievous smile.

Harry pretended to think for a moment. "Okay," he said, and propped himself on the bed in front of Draco, who knelt down before him and took him in his mouth. He remembered it like it were the first time... tasting Harry in him, seeing Harry's pleasure. He sucked and probed and teased before he saw that Harry was minutes away from ecstasy. He stopped and ventured back up to Harry's mouth to gave him a kiss.

Harry responded in kind. "I think I'm about to black out," he said.

"No, no you're not... Finish off, love. Finish off." Draco wanted nothing more than to have Harry inside of him, filling him, making him whole. He grabbed a small bottle from his bedside table and waved it in front of Harry's face.

Harry smiled with delight, kissed him again with even more delight, and would never remember the next day that he had the biggest, most delightful orgasm of his life the previous night.