When You Say Yes

Chapter 5

"Every time I think of you, I feel a shot right through with a bolt of blue. It's no problem of mine, but it's a problem I find... living a life that I can't leave behind. There's no sense in telling me, "The wisdom of a fool won't set you free." But that's the way that it goes and it's what nobody knows. Well, every day my confusion grows."

- New Order, "Bizarre Love Triangle"

"Once I ran to you. Now I run from you. This tainted love you've given... I gave you all a boy could give you. Take my tears and that's not nearly all."

- Soft Cell, "Tainted Love"

Harry woke up the next day with a splitting headache, Very Naked, and feeling as if he was going to throw up everything he had ever consumed during his lifetime. And that didn't have so much to do with the fact that he had drunk every single ounce of alcohol within the perimeter of the room last night as the fact that he had a similarly Very Naked Draco Malfoy sleeping next to him with a Very Pleased smile on his sleeping face.

Harry, as soon as he saw the happily slumbering figure next to him, jumped out of bed. He couldn't remember (not that he had tried very hard, of course) anything about the night before... other than brief, mysterious, flashing glimpses... Draco drinking schnapps, Draco drinking gin, Draco approaching him with pursed lips, Draco's bobbing blonde head... Oh fuck, he thought, and looked wildly around for his shirt.

"What's the rush?" Draco asked lazily, in the middle of a yawn. "Where-aaaaaaahhh are you going?"

"Where's my shirt, Malfoy?" Harry asked, feeling the anger rising in his throat. "Where's my fucking shirt?"

"Jesus, man, calm down," said Draco with a smirk. "It's right here." He scooped it up off of the floor and handed it over to Harry.

He snatched it away and put it on quickly. "Okay, so can I meet you later today? Like at noon? Here? If you promise to clean up?"

"What, you don't want to stay?" Draco pouted.

"Frankly, no. I have a lot of work to do."

Draco sat up straight. "I thought I was your work," he sniffed.

"Sorry Malfoy, but sometimes the world does not revolve around you," Harry snapped.

Draco looked hurt. He withdrew into the covers and tossed the comforter over his head. "That wasn't what you said last night!" he yelled.

Harry winced. So it did happen. But he knew that already. He picked up his other belongings and mumbled a withered goodbye to Draco and told him he would stop by later. He was most definitely not prepared to deal with this right now. He stumbled out of the door, feeling the remnants of the alcohol still in his system. Fuck fuck fucking fuck fuck fuck FUCK! He thought, stumbling past Draco's bodyguards, down to his own hotel room. Fuckity fuck fuck. I'm in so much trouble.

He limped over to his bed and collapsed, his chest heaving with breaths filled with fear and desperation. He knew something like this would happen when he came to LA. He knew it, in the bottom of his gut. He knew he wouldn't be able to just flash a pretty smile at Draco and ask him back to England and then that would be the end of it and he would live happily ever after as an Auror with a wife and 2.5 kiddies. What scared him was that there was a real love that was still at the bottom of his heart. Despite all of that however, there were some very real threats that consumed him when it came to Draco. There was a reason he had broken up with him in the first place, and he wasn't about to rekindle their relationship just because he was high on the smog-filled air of Los Angeles or drunk on the spirits of the night.

As far as Harry was concerned, Draco was a mistake. A walking, talking, breathing (and occasionally fucking) mistake which had very nicely gone away and then returned with a vengeance.

He closed his eyes as tight as he could and then looked at the ceiling above him, trying to decipher his logic from his emotions. He loved Draco, yes. That much he had to admit. But he loved Ron too, and Hermione, and he wasn't about to fuck them. He had loved Teresa. A lot. She had, at one point, been the love of his life, or so he thought. She was beautiful, and smart, and very funny and... well, she could have used some work in the loyalty department. After a half year engagement he walked in on her in bed with fellow Auror, Seamus Finnigan, who was promptly given a royal arse kicking by Harry.

But while Seamus walked out with a broken leg and arm and collar bone, Harry walked out with a broken heart, which is far less fixable.

He squeezed his eyes again. A small tear trickled out of the corner of his eye. He wasn't sure if he was prepared to take that leap again... let alone with Draco, who he knew was capable of stomping on his heart just as badly as Teresa... if not worse.

With one quick motion, he flipped over onto his stomach and stared across the room out of the window, looking at the clear blue southern California day.

Can I really do this with Draco? After everything I have been through? He wondered. And what about him? Is he even capable of love? And... wait a minute. I'm not GAY.

He flipped back over again. The phone in his hotel room rang and he snapped his attention to it. It couldn't be Draco... but... if it was...

He picked it up.

"HARRY!" The familiar shouting of Ron flooded his eardrums. "HARRY? CAN. YOU. HEAR. ME? ARE. YOU. THERE?"

Hermione's exasperated tones in the background: "Oh for Chrissakes, Ron, give it here."

Ron, whining: "But I want to talk to Harry."

"He's probably on the line already laughing at you. You never ever learn," Hermione said. There was a scuffle on the other end and Hermione finally picked up. "Harry? Are you there? How was your trip?... Harry?"

Harry froze and hung up. If he was to start talking to them he would feel obliged to tell them everything and that was something he just couldn't do. He had never been able to tell them his shame of shames... having a gay love affair with Draco Malfoy. It was his deepest, darkest secret. He could never tell it to anybody for the risk of losing them and their friendship. Ron would never forgive him because it was MALFOY of all people, and Hermione would never understand why he, Harry Potter, would ever date anyone who was as bigoted as Draco. How could they possibly understand everything? They would only see the black and white of the situation. But it wasn't black and white. The whole thing was an infinite pixilated picture of a million shades of gray.

He let out a small, self-pitying groan and hid under a pillow.

--

Draco Malfoy was very, very angry. He heard Harry leave the room while he hid underneath the covers and slam the door. He had a dream where Harry had woken up and smiled at Draco and said that this was the way he wanted to spend the rest of his life... right by Draco's side. But then, like the harsh reality of a sunrise, he had woken up to find Harry angrily searching for his clothing.

He sighed and rolled over, tangling himself in the blankets.

I bet that he's going to blame me for this, Draco thought, his mind racing. I bet that fucking wanker is going to blame me for all of this, claiming that it was me and not him and that I forced him into it. That's the way it always is, isn't it? Always horny Draco lusting after the perfect Harry Potter. Well, I don't need him. I've never needed him. He's the one who rushed back into my life, not the other way around. I don't need him. I don't fucking need him.

But his heart ached. Seeing Harry so upset this morning would have made him sad anyway, because he never wanted to see Harry upset. But to see Harry so angry because he had slept with Draco made him feel like Harry had taken a spoon to his heart and hollowed it out, then ate it with some whipped cream. He suddenly felt very, very empty.

He turned over and grabbed his cell phone off the dresser.

"Emily," he croaked into the phone. "I need to go to my personal storage locker."

--

Draco stepped out of the limo with his white Puma trainers reflecting the heat of the morning. As he drew himself up into the afternoon he took his Armani sunglasses out of his jacket pocket and suavely put them on his head.

He motioned to Steve, the limo driver, to open the storage locker then, when it was opened, told him to stay back.

He walked into the musky place and made a face. It had been years since he had stepped foot inside and he was fairly sure that there must be a sandwich or something he had forgotten to remove before he had closed it because something smelled very rank. He pinched his nose and continued inside.

Draco had bought the locker a year after moving to Los Angeles. It was the place he kept remnants of his former life in England... something he had hoped in the back of his mind that he would never have to revisit.

He bent down, careful not to let his designer jeans touch the dusty ground, and opened one of the boxes marked HOGWARTS. He removed the lid and frowned when he saw the contents. Inside was a few old chocolate frog cards, several books, a journal, a strange looking engraved necklace, and... his wand.

He only took out the journal and his wand and exited the locker room.

"Burn the rest, Steve." He said, and watched as Steve took out the rest of the contents of the box, made a small bonfire in the middle of the storage locker parking lot, and torched all the scraps left of his existence at Hogwarts.

As the last embers extinguished Draco felt an odd sense of loss. It was all gone -- all of those stupid, inane memories.

"Home," Draco whispered as Steve got back into the car. "Take me back to my home."

--

Within the hills of Hollywood, high above the windy turns of Laurel Canyon, is a house that has walls of glass and wood, overlooking the San Fernando Valley. Modern in design, it is covered by twisting vines, curvaceous trees and blooming flowers of every species and variety. From above, the house is like a miniature jungle. Inside, the house is decorated like a Zen Bhuddist temple if it were designed by Calvin Klein. It was in this house's living room, during a spring afternoon, that Draco Malfoy sat on his expensive Italian leather sofa, hearing a voice of a man that he had not heard for years booming out of his modern, stone encased fireplace.

Their conversation was brief, but packed with information, details, and thinly concealed threats. Lucius told Draco of what he had missed over his five years absence and what he could expect if he came home. Draco just kept his head at a steady nod and let the occasional "yes sir" slip into the conversation at appropriate moments. Lucius told Draco that he was necessary for his next step in his rise to power and if Draco had any common sense he would join him in England and help him on his quest.

He didn't know why he had contacted his father, what this mattered at all, but mattered it did. His father told him of a portkey that would be sent with a messenger in a day's time. Lucius kept emphasizing the importance of his mission and how he would have contacted Draco earlier if it had not been for the heavy security around him.

Draco said goodbye to his father and decided that he had to go back to the hotel and talk to Harry.

--

Knock, knock.

Draco waited outside of Harry's room, leaning against the door frame. His security guards, two henchmen that he had hired because they reminded him of his old school friends Crabbe and Goyle, waited on each side of the doorway.

He heard Harry walk up to the door. Probably checked the peep hole. Probably thought twice about opening the door. God, you git, open it already, thought an impatient Draco. Fuckin moron.

Harry opened the door with a suspicious, guilty look on his face.

"Hi," he said.

"Can I come in?" Draco demanded and stalked by Harry without waiting for an answer.

"Um, sure, Your Highness."

Draco didn't have enough time to make silly banter. "I talked to my father. He wants me back in England. So now I'm curious why you want me back, and so does he. Explain." With this he sat down and whipped out a carton of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket, lit one and took a big drag.

Harry seemed to have the following thoughts go through his head at once: ...You talked to who?... He wants you back?... I have to tell you now?... Don't smoke in my room!... but all that came out was, "...Blimey."

"I don't have all the time in the world, you realise. He said he was sending a messenger tomorrow with a portkey. So, explain yourself. Preferably with little to no stupid, flustering blubbering, please."

Harry scrunched up his face. "Fuck, Draco."

"What?"

"I first want to apologize for the way I acted this morning. It was totally uncalled for. I completely overreacted, and I'm sorry. Secondly, the Ministry of Magic has reason to believe that your father wants you dead. We, the Ministry of Magic, and, well, I guess, me, want to protect you."

"My father wants me dead?"

"Yes." Harry looked at him anxiously. He didn't know how Draco would take this news. But instead of doing anything much at all, he just sighed and sat back against the leather armchair in which he was seated.

"I thought as much."

"Did you?"

"Yes... One of the first spells I bought when I first became famous was from this wizard that would ward off any unwanted visitors that wished me harm. I didn't want another John Lennon thing to happen to me."

"Oh god, you're comparing yourself to John Lennon? You are so full of..."

"... Or just any celebrity that gets stalked. It happens to a lot of people, you would be surprised. In any case, I had that spell cast... it was pretty pricey, but I think it worked. That's why none of my father's people had come to contact me. They couldn't find me because they, apparently, wanted me dead. Makes perfect sense now." Draco took another drag of his cigarette. "So why does he want me dead, anyway?"

Harry cleared his throat. "Because he wants to become immortal. In order to be immortal, you have to sacrifice the blood of any heirs you might have, or else the spell cannot be cast. That's why he wants you back. Either way, it spells bad news for the world if he gets you back and is able to sacrifice you. The only person it benefits, really, is him."

"So what should I do?"

"Well you did a bloody stupid thing by calling him, you prat. Now your spell won't work because he knows where you are. Why did you do that anyway?"

Draco looked down and blushed. "You know how I can get angry."

"Yes..."

"I was angry at you."

"So you called your father?"

"Um. Yeah."

"That makes no sense."

"Anger rarely makes sense. In any case, I thought that if I can't have you, then at least I could get revenge on you by joining forces with my dad."

"You're an idiot."

"I know..." Draco sighed. "... But at least I was half right."

"About what?"

"About you. I can never have you. I just have to accept that."

It was Harry's turn to blush. "I don't know about that..."

Draco threw up his hands in the air. "GOD, HARRY! FUCKING MAKE UP YOUR MIND! Either you want me, or you don't. Don't keep waffling on and off. I think I'm about to go mad. More nutty than my father, in any case."

"Draco," he said and took Draco's hand. "I don't know if I'm ready to jump into something really serious with you but I do still care about you and I am ready to admit something that I have been denying in the back of my head this whole time."

Draco looked up at him with unsure eyes. Harry drew in a big breath.

"I think I'm bisexual."

Draco cracked a crooked grin. There was a pregnant pause before he said, "Duh."

Harry looked affronted. "Hey, this is a big moment for me!"

"Yeah yeah sure whatever. Back to my dad... Now, what does..."

"HEY! WAIT! I just admitted that I'm bi. And this means nothing to you?"

"I just knew it already," said Draco matter-of-factly. "However, I must say that I am glad that you've finally decided that you like gay sex enough to include it on your sexual buffet table. It will make things significantly less awkward the next time we get pissed and end up in bed together."

Harry glared at him, then, unexpectedly, pinned Draco down on his sofa, his hands clamped around each of Draco's wrists. He smiled and gave him a long hard kiss. Draco tried to push him off, but Harry was too strong. He melted into the kiss. He could feel Harry's erection grow suddenly in his jeans.

After they finally released, Draco smiled. "I knew no straight guy could kiss like that." Harry blushed.

"You're dead sexy, Draco. Anybody ever tell you that?"

"Yes. Of course!"

"Have I ever told you that?"

Draco thought for a moment. "Actually, no. I'm very honored," he said, sarcastically.

Harry snaked an arm around Draco's waist and brought him in closer. "Shall we shag now, or shall we shag later?"

Draco pushed him away. "Harry.... You were never just a fuck to me. I don't want to start now."

"We started the other night, but I can't remember most of it. Care to refresh my memory?" Harry began to a trail of kisses from Draco's ear down to the nape of his neck.

"What has gotten into you?" Draco laughed nervously. Harry pounced on him. Draco pushed him away once more, but Harry just came back for more. In the end, Draco couldn't keep up the energy (or the willpower) it took to stop Harry's advances.

Harry began the trail of kisses that had started at the ear once more, but didn't stop at the neck. He kissed Draco passionately on the mouth as he took off Draco's shirt.

"Wha- what are you... Oh..." Draco moaned as Harry's eager mouth reached the top of his trousers.

"Shall I continue?" Harry asked, his eyes peering upwards at Draco's face.

"Um. Yes. Yes, please do continue."

Harry unbuttoned Draco's trousers and pushed them down to the ground. Draco's erection was rock solid. He took it into his mouth, something he had not done for years, something he had planned never to do again. But it felt right, somehow, have Draco inside of him. He sucked and teased until Draco came, shouting, yelling, and finally collapsing onto the bed behind him.

He climbed up onto the bed next to Draco, whose eyes were wide with pleasure and want.

"I've still got it, I see," Harry said, smiling. He bent over to kiss him.

Draco smiled and kissed him back. "Yes, you do."

"So you'll be coming back, right?"

Draco's face crinkled. "What?"

"England. You'll be coming back?"

"I can't believe you would bring up something like that right after...."

"Right after... I gave you head? I don't see what the big deal is."

"The big deal is that we just exchanged an intimate moment and you're bringing business into it right away." Draco turned around and crossed his arms. He looked like a five year old who had been denied his favorite toy.

"Sorry, but we don't have much time..."

"Was this a whole big ploy just to get me to go back to England? Did they tell you to use 'whatever means necessary?'"

Harry gawked at him.

"Well?" Draco demanded, sitting upright, his arms still crossed.

"I can't believe you're asking me that," Harry said quietly.

"Well I'm going to have to ask you again if you don't answer the fucking question."

"What do you think?"

"If I knew, I wouldn't be asking, now would I?"

"Of course not, Draco. I wouldn't play around with my sexuality just to fulfill a mission," he said. Then he thought for a moment. "Okay, well maybe I would, but I would never do it with you."

"You don't love me," Draco moaned. "You don't. Nobody loves me. My father doesn't love me. And you don't either. You're using me and you don't love me."

"God, you're the King of Self Pity, you know that? You pulled the same stunt in Quidditch: 'You always win,' 'Everybody loves you and hates me,' 'They rig the matches in your favor.' Grow up already. Maybe if you would take your head out of your arse you might get a better view of the world."

With this Draco looked at him with a mix of horror and shock. "How DARE you say these things to me! My father wants me DEAD and I'm the world's LAST HOPE and you say these HORRIBLE things to me!"

Harry rolled his eyes.

"DON'T YOU ROLL YOUR EYES AT ME!" Draco roared and pulled the covers of the bed over his head. His lower torso was exposed, and still very naked. This made Harry giggle.

Draco reappeared from under the covers. "What are you laughing at?"

Harry pointed at Draco's exposed nether-region. It was now Draco's turn to roll his eyes. "Like you've never seen a dick before," Draco said in exasperated tones. "And for that matter, like you've never seen my dick before."

"C'mon Draco, cover up. It's very difficult for me to take you seriously if you're going to have your cock flapping around everywhere."

"Fine. But that's the last you'll see of it for awhile," Draco said and grumpily put his underwear back on.

"Draco..."

"Yeah, sure, I'll go back to England. Just keep your hands off of me. I don't want you anywhere near me."

"You mean, other than the 14 hour flight over to London?"

"I'll be in first class. You can be in coach, where you belong."

"No need to get snooty. And I already have the tickets," Harry said and pulled an itinerary out of his wallet. "We're leaving next Tuesday at noon and we'll get in Heathrow at about 10:30. First class, of course. Wouldn't want to spoil Your Highness's insured arse..."

Draco crinkled his nose. "You mean to tell me that you already had tickets? Am I that predictable?"

Harry gave him a pitying look. "You always were, love, you always were."

"You're horrible, you know that?"

"That's just what makes you love me as much as you do," Harry said and flashed a pointed grin.

"Fine," Draco said. "Anyway. I am still angry with you but at least I can show you a good time while you're here. Get your coat. We're going to see what the people in Hollywood do to have a good time."