Falling Away With You - Apocalypse Please
von Resimesdra
~Title borrowed from Muse. Yet again ;) ~
I’m terribly sorry for making you all wait so long, but RL got extremely busy (still is, by the way, and will be at least ‘til August/September *sigh* Why AM I doing that to myself?), and I didn’t even have access to the internet for a full month on top of it.
This chapter is dedicated to my darling Solvej; because of Muse, because of non-available gloves, because of McD twice a day, because of t-shirts in December, because of Fight Club and because of the curious awkwardness of meeting someone you’ve never seen before. ;)
To those wondering what I’m on about: you don’t want to know. ;)
Thanks to Thekla for feedback! :-*
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Draco Malfoy was nearly certain that he had lost his mind. How else could it be explained that he had already spent more than two hours in front of the mirror, trying to decide which clothes to pick? He’d never given his outfit much thought, and up until now, it had always worked out wonderfully for him – but today was special. Today, Draco wanted to look good, really good. Because today, Draco was going to meet Jamie.
It had been two weeks since their fateful night on the telephone, two weeks during which they had exchanged short messages and even talked to each other on the phone – but never again had they done something similar to what they had in their first night. It had taken them a bit of time to work up the courage for a real meeting, but now they felt they were ready.
Except, at the moment, Draco felt anything but ready. For the first time in his life, he felt truly and overwhelmingly ugly; he could have sworn there were pimples raising that hadn’t been there before, and his hair was a complete and utter mess. His clothes didn’t seem to fit at all, and he wasn’t sure whether he should wear the new Converse shoes he’d bought the day before, or the elegant slippers he usually wore when he wanted to make a good impression.
They had planned to go out in the park for a walk, perhaps have some ice cream – but right now, the sky was dull and grey, and it looked by all means as though it would start to rain at any minute.
Cursing, Draco tossed the empty tube of hair gel into the bin and furiously combed his hair with water. Why did everything always have to be so bloody complicated? Couldn’t he even have a proper date like everybody else?
Staring into the mirror, despair visible on his face, Draco realised that his current state had to mean that he really liked Jamie. And he really, really, really wanted Jamie to like him back. Which was remarkable in itself, since Draco hadn’t felt that strongly for anybody for a long time. Not since his rather unfortunate crush on Potter all those years ago, that is.
Draco sighed. What a mess. For all he knew, Jamie could be five feet tall and weigh four hundred pounds! He could have acne all over his face, and a nasty overbite on top of it. His dick could be the size of a peanut and his feet could stink of dead rats. Perhaps he reeked of sweat and unbrushed teeth. Or maybe he was wearing his grandmother’s knickers as a kink…
Draco wanted to bang his head against the wall. What had he gotten himself into? Whatever had possessed him to propose this meeting? He hadn’t even been this nervous when he’d told his parents that he was going to move out, and he had been quite edgy back then (which was perfectly understandable, considering Draco’s family situation). His father had been pissed and his mother had cried, but Draco had merely been glad he could make it out of there. He hadn’t heard much from them since. Well, apart from a rather whiny letter of his mother’s, asking him in not so many words to come back. Draco had been sad when reading the letter, and something inside of him had wanted to go back to her – because despite everything, Draco still loved his mother a great lot, and sometimes he didn’t feel very grown up at all, and just wanted to crawl back into his mummy’s arms.
Thinking about his new won freedom helped a little, but then again there was the fact that Draco had been living in the Muggle world for over two months by now and still hadn’t made any acquaintances. Mostly, this was because Draco had hidden in his new flat and used the time to read up on everything he could about Muggle culture, because he didn’t feel fit to join the world out there without knowing how a telephone worked. Now that he knew about everything, he felt he needed to go out and make new friends.
There was just one little problem: Draco Malfoy didn’t know how to make friends. His friends from school hadn’t been real friends, because, as he had told Jamie, they were only nice to him because their parents wanted them to be. …And because they smelled advantages for themselves in his company; and they weren’t mistaken – Draco didn’t have to do anything to gain that. Draco’s only attempt ever in befriending someone had been with Harry Potter, and look how that one had turned out.
More than once, he felt solemnly temped to just pack his bags and return to the Wizarding world. But then he remembered the stern look in his father’s eyes, the inevitable marriage with Pansy Parkinson (the thought alone made Draco shiver and his dick shrink to the size of a grape) and the accusing, suspicious looks that greeted him whenever he walked down the street. Of course, nobody had forgotten about the role that the Malfoys – and Draco in particular – had played before the war had begun; and no one seemed to care that they had changed sides even before it was over.
Draco himself had never quite gotten over the traumatizing night when Dumbledore had been killed, and there were times when he woke with a scream, the look on the old man’s face standing clearly before his eyes. He hadn’t wanted him to die, even though he didn’t harbour any feelings of sympathy for the old fool, but he’d really had no choice.
But who cared whether Draco had acted out of the desire to save his mother from the lunatic reaching out for ultimate power? All they saw was the traitorous little fuck who’d killed their leader, and no one gave a toss about asking about the hows and whys of Draco’s – admittedly stupid, but nonetheless noble in some sick, twisted way – deed.
No, this was better, the anonymity and namelessness of a world where no one had ever heard the name Draco Malfoy before, where no one gave a rat’s arse that he had been involved in circumstances leading to the death of a very important man – because Albus Dumbledore was a name nobody knew either. And best of all: no one cared that Draco was gay. He could shag every bloke he wanted to, for all he was worth, and no one would even look twice.
At least – theoretically. In practice, however, Draco hadn’t worked up the nerve to go out and chat up other men yet. Or anyone. Practically, however, Draco was starting to feel more and more like an island. He had been on the verge of caving in, crawling back to the manor because, really, even an enforced marriage with a woman he didn’t want would be better than this solitary confinement. And then he had seen the Lonely Hearts section in the newspaper.
It had taken him two days of quarrelling with himself before he’d made up his mind and set up the ad. Then, he had needed another two days to get a mobile phone, because obviously, things didn’t work via owl mail here. It was difficult to understand how that bit of technique worked, but while Draco might have been many things, stupid wasn’t one of them, and he got it figured out in almost no time. He hadn’t been sure what to write or how to address people out there – but then he had written exactly what was on his mind, merely without giving away how desperately lonely he already was.
There had been many, many messages responding to his ad (Draco guessed that it was only natural since he was a young gay virgin and there was quite the number of gay men out there looking for exactly that), but none of them had been appealing to him. He’d already given up hope when his mobile beeped for a last time. Draco had reluctantly taken it, half expecting another ‘Hey hottie, got any free time this afternoon? I’d like you to meet my *special someone*, harr harr’, but was infinitely relieved when the incoming message had been nothing like this.
Jamie’s message was like rain in the desert.
Truthfully, Draco had no idea why he found it so endearing, but he did, and his fingers were eager to answer. But his mind set a slower pace, forcing him to wait a little longer, instead of being carried away. Two hours seemed sufficient, though, and Draco allowed himself to press the send button.
The following conversation went surprisingly well, and somehow, Draco had the odd feeling as though they had known each other for so much longer, knowing exactly what the other was feeling… but of course that was major BS, since Jamie was actually the first real Muggle Draco engaged with.
Inevitably, sex soon became a topic for them, and Draco was a bit disappointed to learn that Jamie was indeed far more experienced than he himself was. But once he’d gotten over the initial shock, he found it quite exciting. So many things Jamie could teach him…
The thought alone had him hard against his underwear, and he couldn’t resist the temptation of teasing Jamie a bit, so he told him about one of his fantasies. It was true, Draco really fantasised about being sub, but he only told Jamie because he was fairly certain that knowing this would turn the other boy on.
He wasn’t mistaken, and what followed was the very best sexual experience Draco had faced so far. And that included hiding in the locker room, perving after Potter’s bits in the shower! Draco still flushed when he remembered the incident, but seeing how it still gave him something to wank over after all these years, he was forced to conclude it must have been worth his while.
Everything about Jamie made Draco wanton, and so it had actually been his idea that they should meet for real. Staring at the bags under his eyes in the mirror, though, Draco started to seriously regret this decision.
--
Surprisingly, it hadn‘t rained by the time Draco left his flat and headed for the ice cream parlour where they had agreed on meeting. He was a little late, but it was on purpose, because he figured this would give him time to check out all possible candidates. If he saw something he didn’t like, he could always chicken out. Something told him that this wasn’t very noble, but fuck if he was feeling courteous at the moment, with blood thundering around his body so loudly that he was almost driven over by the tram because he hadn‘t heard it coming in time.
Suddenly, Draco realised that they didn’t have a symbol that they could recognise each other by. They hadn’t agreed on carrying something - like a rose - with them, or anything equally cliché; they’d just figured they would know each other when they met. Well. Draco thought it couldn’t be that bad. They would probably be the only idiots standing there, waiting for hours – so if they didn’t recognise each other at once, they’d just have to check for the other poor fool to know it was their corresponding half.
He slowly neared the parlour, always cautious to keep his distance – and suddenly, he almost stumbled over his own feet in surprise. He almost didn’t believe his eyes, but even after blinking several times it didn‘t go away: there he was, Harry Potter, strutting back and forth in front of the parlour as though he owned the place.
Draco swallowed. And swallowed again. No fucking way. He was not going out there, revealing himself, when Potter was around to watch his every step. Oh no. Never. He’d rather drop dead right here in the peonies than have Potter recognise him!
Draco hid behind a bench and watched in awe. Potter had, amazingly, become even more attractive since school. His black hair was as messy as always, except now it seemed artfully ‘destyled’, rather than just unkempt. He was wearing faded blue jeans, a green, long-sleeved shirt and Converse shoes – the very same that Draco had decided on wearing. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. How was Draco supposed to find any good in Jamie, when he had to compare him to Potter? Fucking Potter, looking like the incarnation of everything that was sexual. At least to Draco.
Fucking shit.
Draco moved a few meters so that he didn’t have to watch stupid sexy Potter parading up and down the street, and pulled out his cell phone. He’d ring Jamie and ask them to meet somewhere else; that was his only chance if he didn’t want to fuck this up.
“Hey Jamie, it’s Tristan.”
“Hey! What’s wrong?”
“Could we, like, meet somewhere else?” Draco gulped. He must sound very stupid.
“Err. Sure, if you want to. But why?”
“I…” I’ve just seen my old crush, and if I don’t get away this instant, I might just accidentally jump him. “I’ve just seen someone I’d rather not run into. Let’s meet somewhere in the park instead, shall we? How about the fountain?”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll be right there.”
Draco exhaled a slow, shaky breath and relaxed a bit. Okay, so that was that.
He walked over to the fountain and sat down on the rim, too exhausted for any more hiding and sly spying. Either this went well, or it didn’t.
He hadn’t been there for a very long time when Harry Potter came marching along, obviously aiming for a bench to sit on. Draco shrunk several inches and almost dropped backwards into the fountain. This was so not cool. What was that guy’s problem?! Hadn’t he already made enough of a mess out of Draco’s life? Damn him and his stupid, well-fitting denims!
Then, however, it became even worse.
Potter accidentally looked over his shoulder, stopped and ogled Draco as though he was a Martian or something. Then, he slowly walked over to him, a wry grin splitting his lips.
Draco wanted to punch him. Anything, just to make this arrogant sneer go away.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Draco Malfoy,” Potter sneered, looking as though he intended to sit down next to him. Draco tried to stretch out to occupy as much space as possible, which wasn’t much since he was still a bit on the skinny side. Potter didn’t pay any attention to Draco’s attempts of minimizing the remaining space and dropped down beside him, clueless. His hand touched Draco’s, who pulled away as though he had been burned. “To what does the Muggle world owe the favour of your majesty’s visit?”
Draco’s cheeks reddened. “It’s none of your fucking business, Potter!” he spat.
Potter looked mildly stunned. “Language, Malfoy!”
Draco was miffed to see that he was amused rather than offended. He snorted. “Now that you’ve had your share of insulting comments would you mind buggering off? I’m meeting someone here, and I don’t want you to scare them away.”
Potter grinned. “Now that you mention it – I have a date, too. But-“ he checked his watch, “he’s rather late already. Not that I mind particularly, now that the company has improved so much…”
For the second time in less than ten minutes, Draco was about to fall backwards into the fountain. Was Potter gay? And flirting with him? Oh sweet Merlin, all those years of UST… For a moment, Draco was solemnly tempted to give Jamie another ring and tell him his grandmother had been eaten by the cat or something, and he needed to go to the funeral, just to prolong his time with Harry. Err, Potter.
Then he remembered that this charming young man next to him was still Harry Potter, and that he was most likely just playing with him. So instead of doing anything stupid that he would regret twenty seconds later, Draco gave another huff and they sat in silence for a few moments that seemed awfully long to him.
Finally, Harry pulled out his phone with a sigh. “I wonder where he is,” he murmured and dialed a number. Almost the same time, Draco’s phone started vibrating against his thigh. He quickly got up and walked a few feet away. He certainly didn’t need Potter to eavesdrop on his conversation with Jamie – neither did he feel the need to listen to Potter talking to his boyfriend or whatever.
“Where are you?” Jamie asked the second Draco had pressed the button. “I’ve been waiting for an eternity.”
Draco was confused. “What? But I am at the fountain! You knew which one I meant, don’t you? The one with the knight?”
“Yeah. Where are you? I’m right at the fountain, waiting for you.”
Draco walked around the stone wall, but there was not one single bloke in sight. Apart from Potter, of course, but he was certainly out of the question.
“I don’t see you anywhere. Are you sure you’re at the right fountain?”
“How many fountains with knights could there possibly be in this bloody park?” Jamie sounded positively angry now. “Are you fucking playing with me?”
“No!” Draco, to his utmost dismay, felt he was getting close to tears. “I am here and I am waiting for you! Now please hurry! There’s this guy from school I told you about, he’s chatting me up and I really want to get out of here!”
There was a moment of silence during which Draco could have smacked himself for mentioning Harry. What if Jamie was pissed with him now? Then,
“Oh my God. Malfoy? Is that you?!”
Draco dropped the cell phone and turned around, slowly, his eyes open wide, and praying not to find what he was afraid of finding. Harry Potter was staring at him with big, shocked eyes, his mouth hanging slightly open, his mobile still pressed to his ear. Draco’s jaw worked uselessly for a second or two, then he turned and ran without looking back.
--
TBC
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