But I Won't Do That

Harry removed his glasses long enough to wipe the sweat from his face on the shoulder of his t-shirt. Then he slid the glasses back on, hefted his spade, and resumed digging. He mused again how taking up construction had been, surprisingly, a good choice. He could lose himself in the labor; it helped him to not think of the past.
The signal for lunch rang, and Harry straightened and stretched. He was glad he’d finally developed the muscles for the job; when he’d started, he discovered the muscles he already had were all the wrong ones, and the first few months had been agony. But of course, he needed different muscles for physical labor than he’d needed for Quidditch.

Harry winced when he thought of Quidditch, but he’d gotten used to the pangs by now and barely noticed. Relieved he had an hour for lunch, he walked off the site and across the street to a café he’d noticed earlier.

Ignoring the waitress’ obvious disapproval of his filthy, sweaty clothes, Harry ordered and sat sipping his glass of water, watching the other customers. He felt another pang as he watched a couple of teenagers making eyes at each other. Had it been so long since he was that age? No, of course not, but it seemed like forever. And of course, he’d never gotten to go on dates or make eyes like a normal teen.

The waitress brought Harry’s meal, and he chewed it methodically, not really tasting any of it. Eating had become an annoying necessity for him; he was never hungry, and had caught himself going for days without food. Now Harry made a point of eating three meals a day, even though he barely saw the point.

The teenage girl recoiled at something the boy said, and stood up quickly, knocking her chair over with a loud clatter. “How could you?” she cried, drawing the attention of everyone in the café. She grabbed her drink and dumped it over the unresisting boy’s head, and stormed out. Harry watched her go with mild interest, wondering vaguely if she’d forgive the boy eventually.

“Looks familiar, does it?” Harry turned at the voice and froze in horror as Ron Weasley slid into the seat opposite him.

Ron looked almost exactly as Harry remembered. His red hair had been trimmed short so it wasn’t so unruly, and he’d put on a bit more muscle, but otherwise he hadn’t changed; the same tall, lanky frame, the same brown eyes, even the same damn freckles. In all the time that had passed he should have changed, should have grown into a man; but they were both still so young, despite having lived through enough to be old.

“Well?” Ron said, a slight tremor in his voice betraying how very not casual he was feeling. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

Harry tried to speak several times before he managed to force out “How? H-how did you…?”

“Hermione, of course,” Ron answered, his eyes never leaving Harry’s. “It was months before I realized you’d faked it. I may be dense, but there was no body; I figured it out eventually. It’s taken since then for Hermione to work out how to break your Charm.” He waited, but Harry wasn’t talking. “That better not be all you have to say,” Ron growled.

The anger in Ron’s voice got Harry’s brain working again. “Go away,” he said quickly, leaping to his feet and throwing down money for the bill. His hands were shaking so hard the notes almost missed the table.

“Go away?” Ron gaped at Harry. “You fucking prat! We’ve been looking for you for four years and you tell me to go away?”

“Fuck off, Ron!” Harry snapped. A shiver ran through him; it was the first time he’s spoken his former best friend’s name in years. “Either curse me dead or get lost! I left for a reason, remember?”

“And we still looked for you!” Ron said, running after Harry as he left the café and headed back to the site. “Harry, I’m sorry I snapped! We all miss you, we couldn’t just let you go!”

“You should have,” Harry shot back, trying to fight back tears of shame. “After what I did you should have let me stay dead!”

“We couldn’t,” Ron insisted from right in front of him, causing Harry to start – Ron had Apparated in the middle of muggle London. “Bloody hell, I knew I’d screw this up, but it’s true, Harry! If you’d’ve stayed a day longer we would’ve told you then!”

“Yeah, I can see it now,” Harry snarled, shoving his way roughly past Ron. “A few more choice insults from Hermione, a curse or two from Malfoy, and if I survived that, Ginny would kick me between the legs!” His voice grew thick as he ducked back into the construction site. “I burned my bridges too thoroughly to rebuild them, Ron! Who I was then died, even if I might still be breathing. Just forget you found me, forget you ever knew me!”

“I can’t, don’t you get it?” Ron exploded. “You were my best friend! I’ve r-really missed you; even after what you did, I still want you to come back. We all do!”

“Oh, yeah,” Harry roared, spinning to shout in Ron’s face. “Yeah, I bet Malfoy’s really anxious to see me!”

“Sounds about right,” Draco drawled from where he’d been standing unnoticed just inside the site, leaning on the wooden fence. He pushed himself up and walked toward Harry, nodding at Ron. “Thanks for the owl, Weasley.” Draco, at least, looked different from the last time Harry had seen him; he had grown a bit more, and his formerly sharp features had matured into a handsome, triangular face, framed by almost shoulder-length white-blonde hair, His build was still slim, but the muscles he’d developed playing Quidditch had continued to develop, and his slightly clingy clothes showed a taut, wiry body.

Harry shrank away. He and Draco had been mortal enemies, and Harry had taken advantage of Draco in the most despicable way. “Y-y-you…”

“Damn, but you’re cute when you’re scared,” Draco said with a smirk. “Potter, if I wanted to curse you I wouldn’t have announced my presence, I would’ve just done it,” He and Ron followed Harry onto the construction site. “I just wanted first go at you, and Weasley here was happy to oblige.”

Ron shot Draco a look. “Malfoy…”

“Oh, relax, Weasley, Potter wants it just as much,” Draco said with a leer in Harry’s direction. “He looks more than butch enough to stop me if he wants to.”

“Wh-what?” Harry stammered. He backed up against the side of the foreman’s trailer.

“I want another go at you, Potter,” Draco said, and licked his lips. He slammed his hands against the trailer on either side of Harry’s head. Harry stared into Draco’s silver-blue eyes and felt a tension he hadn’t felt since he’d left the wizarding world behind. “That’s right, Potter, it’s all true,” Draco muttered. “All your chums want you to make nice and come home. Me, I just want to fuck you again.”

Draco slammed his lips against Harry’s, forcing his tongue forward, then pulling Harry’s lip with his teeth. Harry’s eyes closed automatically, and his knees almost buckled. It had been so long, and he’d missed it so much…

“Riddle! What the bloody hell are you doing?” The three men’s heads whipped around. The foreman had leaned out of his trailer and was staring at them incredulously.

Draco raised an eyebrow elegantly at Harry. “Riddle? Oh Potter, that’s just terrible; you’re such a drama queen.” Without even looking, Draco whipped out his wand and Obliviated the foreman. Then he chanted briefly, and Harry’s eyes grew huge. The foreman glanced around confusedly, looking right through the trio, and then shrugged and went back inside.

“Where did you learn the Fidelius Charm?” Harry asked Draco in shock.

“Auror training, of course,” Draco answered offhandedly, and crushed his lips to Harry’s again.

Draco was slim and slightly built, but Harry couldn’t seem to shove him away. Of course, he wasn’t trying very hard. He wanted it like nothing else; not just the contact, not just sex – he wanted to believe it was possible they really missed him. He’d given up on that so long ago. “Draco,” he half-groaned, pushing Draco to arm’s length, “You- you really-”

“I don’t particularly care,” Draco corrected lazily, bringing his hand between them and pressing against the bulge in Harry’s jeans, making Harry’s jaw tighten. “But your pals seem to think it would be just peachy to have you back in the fold.” He squeezed his hand, drawing a loud moan from Harry. “No more talking, Potter. You’ll have plenty of time to talk after you’re through screaming.”

With a flick of Draco’s wand Harry’s jeans and boxers peeled themselves down around his ankles; then, with surprising strength, Draco spun Harry and slammed him face-first against the trailer. Harry panicked for a moment when he saw his co-workers returning from lunch, but then he remembered; Draco had cast the Fidelius Charm on them, so that no Muggles would see them – just as Harry had done on himself four years before, so he would remain hidden from the wizarding world.

It still hurt when Draco entered Harry, even though he used a Lubrication Charm. It had been far too long, and Harry still hadn’t come to terms with what he’d done; it was all tied together in his mind, the sex, the need, the betrayal, the want…he sobbed as Draco fucked him, alternately begging and ordering, certain it wasn’t real, it was just another of hundreds of similar dreams.

Draco reached around and grasped Harry’s cock and stroked it as he thrust. The sun-heated wood of the trailer was digging into Harry’s arms and forehead, but he pushed back and met Draco’s thrusts, trying to ignore the other workers digging not fifteen feet away, painfully aware that he’d never felt so exposed in his life, not even when he’d been hollowed out and broken.

When Draco started thrusting harder and hit Harry’s prostate Harry came with a hoarse whimper, shooting sperm all over the side of the trailer; Draco wasn’t far behind, and the pulsing of his cock made Harry’s knees give out. They collapsed onto the packed dirt, panting harshly. Draco slipped out of Harry, who moaned in protest. “Damn- Potter,” Draco gasped, “you need to- get out more.”

“Shut it, Malfoy.” Ron dropped to his knees in front of Harry, apparently oblivious to their nudity or the unexpected lasciviousness. “All right there, Harry?”

Harry nodded weakly, still unable to believe what had just happened – or what Ron had been saying. “You- you really want me-” Ron nodded. “And…the others?” Another nod. “All of them? R-really?”

“Yeah, really.” Ignoring that Harry was half-undressed, sweaty and smelled of sex, Ron offered his hand to Harry, who took it and allowed Ron to pull him to his feet. “I knew I’d do this all wrong, Harry,” he said, fixing his eyes on Harry’s. “I’ve been thinking about how this would go, if we ever found you, if I was the one, for years, but when it happens what do I do? I blather and yell and apologize, and I’ve never been good at talking anyway.” Harry smiled weakly, and Ron returned it. “I should’ve known better than to open my big mouth. I should’ve…I should’ve just…”

Ron threw his arms around Harry and crushed him in a hug. His hands scrambled almost desperately against Harry’s back, and his whole body shook uncontrollably. “Damnit Harry, you bastard,” he sobbed, “I really missed my best friend.”