Young Hearts, Old Souls

Aurthors Note:Hey everyone. Just giving fair warning that I’m a newbie and this is not beta’d but don’t run off! Yes, my first fan fiction and I hope it is ok. The song featured is Candi Staton’s You’ve Got The Love. If you can listen to the song while reading when it appears (and try to keep up with the lyrics and words so they flow), I think it contributes nicely. The link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x7dMGw3uzEU. Let me know what you think!


Chapter One: Saturday Slumming


It was late October. The air was becoming too cold for regular outdoor activity. Soon the family wouldn’t be coming out to the park to play football anymore. And seated on the park bench, sad eyes watched the joyful game with sorrow.

It was two against one: a mother and son against the father. They had been doing this since the summer, a family tradition that they would do for a half hour every weekend, 5:30pm sharp, before going inside.

The boy was about 6 years old, blond and rosy cheeked. He shrieked exuberantly when his mother passed him the ball. The father pretended to stumble, creating the opening the little boy needed to push passed. Both parents stopped to watched as he charged towards the makeshift goal (two rocks a couple feet apart) and kicked. He scored.

Charging back towards his parents, the father already with his arms open, he was swung up and smothered in kisses and praises. Hugging, they congratulated the little boy who beamed under their praises.

The lone figure on the park bench watched as the family packed up and left the park. Eyes brimming with unshed tears, throat tight, he closed his eyes. Dwelling on the past was not healthy. That family was not his reality. Sighing and calling himself all kinds of a fool, he stood, fixing his cap and hugging his coat closer. Reaching inside the pocket the didn’t house his wand, he clicked on a gift that had given him hope when he was a hair’s breadth shy of giving up. He set off for home.

Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air
I know I can count on you
Sometimes I feel like saying, "Lord, I just don't care"
But you've got the love I need to see me through

Life had dealt him hard cards but he hand never really complained. Sure he had raged and despaired but still he had gritted his teeth and made the best of a bad situation. He had cried more during these last few years than he had since he had been born. A trait that once would have made him disgusted with himself, oddly was his release.

Sometimes it seems the going is just too rough
And things go wrong no matter what I do
Now and then I feel like life is just too much
But you've got the love I need to see me through

Sometimes…

As he walked the scenery changed. The street became dirtier, the buildings more crooked and the people smiled less. He could relate. There didn’t seem to be much to smile about these days. That’s what happened when you grew up and realised that there was no justice in this world.

There were days when living seemed the hardest thing to do. Just waking up in the morning was a curse and you wished you hadn’t. Because the pain comes back, the knowledge and the memories. That this sham of a life was nothing. He was nothing. What was the point?

Time after time I say, "Oh Lord what's the use?"
Time after time I say, "This just won't do"
But sooner or later in life the things you love you lose
Just like before, I know I call you

He smiled. He was relating himself to muggles and he wasn’t throwing a fit. But that’s how time and circumstances changed a person. He shook his head. He had certainly been shown more kindness by Muggleborns and muggles than wizards. He always chuckled when he thought about it.

Occasionally my thoughts are great, my friends are few
Occasionally I cry out, “oh Lord, what must I do”
Ocassionally I cry out “Master make me new”
But you've got the love I need to see me through

Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air…

He really shouldn’t be thinking theses thoughts. Not today. It was Saturday after all. His one night to unwind so that tomorrow he would be relaxed. Well, as much as he could be.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see a fight going on towards his left. Three against two. Two guys were holding their own so far but this couldn’t end well, especially when he saw a gleam of silver flash in the fading light. His hand was on his wand before he realised it. But what could he do? Nothing, plain and simple.

You’ve got the love I need to see me through.

He kept walking.


***


The door slammed earning a reproachful hiss from behind the coach. The sorry that responded was dead weary. A moth eaten coat (wand withdrawn) was placed upon the coat pegs behind the door along with a blue and grey cap with the logo Greg’s Grub written in bold red print on the front. The shoes that came off next were in no better shape than the coat.

Pulling the hair tie from his hair, it fell just passed his shoulders in relief. Feeling like a Hippogriff’s arse after a bad case of the runs, he shuffled forward, too tired physically and emotionally to put up pretence tonight. Tonight he didn’t strut about his dingy apartment like it was his private London Town House. He didn’t imagine that the scratches, rips and frays in the furnishings were some muggle-retro-sheik. He just walked across the small space of his living quarters to the door that enclosed his bedroom. If one could call it that. It was small with a single-bed, a stool, two small trunks and a hamper. Better than some places he had seen. Nowhere close to what he once had, but he wouldn’t go there. Not Tonight.

It was Saturday, but Merlin was he tired.

Almeda had called in sick at the last minute so he had had to do double the work. The extra money would be a big help when it came and he was a bit worried but he vowed if it wasn’t “cancer”, he’d kill her.

When the tops of his knees hit the bed they buckled and he went down sprawling face down. He laid spread on the bed like a child about to make a snowman, wand nearly rolling off. His feet hurt, his back ached and his ears rang. He could just imagine the dark craters under his eyes. If he never saw another muggle it would be too soon. He sighed. That that was just the exhaustion talking. As he had said, he had come to learn that not all muggles were horrid. Mind you most were no better than dragon dung, but there were the selected few that could pass for human faeces. His smile was sleepy.

Eyelids dropping, he felt himself being pulled under by sleep’s seductive call and would have happily drowned if it had not been the claws that stabbed him in the arse. Jumping up with a pained yelp he turned, reaching for a wand that was more or less useless.

A mangy grey cat with only half of its left ear on its head hissed. A skinny paw, claws fully extended, swiped at him again. In an attempt to avoid the lethal weapon, he rolled.

And landed ass first on the floor. Cursing, and he swore he heard the little beast snickering, he was about to get up and throw the flea infested thing outside but a bundle of clothing by the foot of the bed stopped him. Those weren’t there before were they?

He picked up the stockings and knickers with a sardonic smile about his lips. The damn thing knew him too well. Or at least well enough to know that if he didn’t get his Saturday night fix, he’d be on edge for the rest of the week (no tuna for you). This was the only day he didn’t work nights (well this and Wednesday but who the hell goes to a club on Wednesday). Sure he had Sunday which was his day off but there was no way he was wasting that. That was for complete relaxation. And tired though he was, the prospect of a well needed shag quickly diminished the feeling to a more tolerable level.

As he held the garments resentment for them flooded him but he squashed it. He didn’t want any more regret full or resentful thoughts ruining his night. Gingerly he got to his feet. He would have to burn those knickers though. Glancing at the cat, he stated snidely, “You could have been a little gentle with your approach.”

The cat cocked its head at him as if to say, But this way was more fun.

“Bitch.”

Hiss.


***


He had been dancing for what seemed like hours after he had drunk himself into a state that allowed him to actually follow through with, what on any other day, he would call “slumming”. However it was Saturday. The only thing on his mind was having a good time.

And so he let the music wash over him as he bade it to steal him away. Yes he went to clubs for sex, but this was why the reason he lingered.

Arms a bit too slender rose, twirling in delicate patterns only their owner could see. Eyes closed, a small smile playing upon red lips and hips swaying to the soothing beat, he moved with the confidence that came with his disguise.

Hands slowly descending, he let them caress brow, his cheek. Running them down his slender neck, he licked his lips, only half aware of the vision of debauchery he presented to the gathering crowd on the dance floor. He was a regular to these places. Everyone knew the blond beauty.

Hesitating only slightly, he quickly skimmed his hands over the slinky red that covered his chest. Pausing when they reached his waist he slid them around his middle, body undulating to that smooth beat. He was flushed with exertion, breath coming in panting gasps. He felt alive.

He was burning from within, shaking with repressed need. He was ready. Lashes rose slowly and he was not surprised to see the men that had gathered around him. Grey eyes darted from one to another: sizing, dismissing, considering. He ignored the disappointed faces who turned away. This was routine. This was Saturday. This was-

He almost choked on his next thought. There stood a figure, half shrouded in darkness by the bar, a pint in his hand, and his eyes on him. He couldn’t see the man properly but the intensity of the man’s gaze upon him made him feel light-headed. The man was staring at Draco Malfoy as though he wanted to fuck him through the dance floor.

He was unaware that he had stopped dancing. Hell, he was practically pinned to the floor by the smouldering gaze. Nervousness started to creep into his drink and dance euphoria. The man was fucking eerie and yet…and yet the increase rate of increase in his heart beat wasn’t entirely due to fear.

He forced himself to stop behaving like an idiot as the man shifted from the wall, leaving his drink by the bar as he moved determinedly, if not a bit shakily, towards him. And as the distance between them disappeared, so did Draco’s ability to breath. Indecision held him.

Something told him to run, that this man could hurt him but he couldn’t seem to turn away. As the man got closer, strangely his features didn’t become recognizable. Oh, Draco was seeing him alright, but he couldn’t make out eye nor hair colour (though he could see that the hair was short and spiky), face shape nor any striking features. It was like he was seeing this man but his brain kept failing to pick up what he saw. That could only mean one of two things: alcohol or…

His mind was a little too fuzzy with alcohol to remember what the other thing was.

The man wore a grey sweater and jeans, nothing especially eye catching. It was his face that was captivating. There was a tension in in there that made him look hard and slightly haggard. Grim lines about his forehead and around his jaw spoke of a life that might not been kind to him either. Draco suspected that the face would not be unattractive but it would be by no means handsome. His shoulders and arms were broad and the tension was apparent there too. And the man’s eyes looked very dim somehow, dull and disillusioned, despite the lust that flared within. Draco was familiar with eyes like those. Even sloshed you couldn’t fully let go.

They stood face to face for what seemed like an eternity before the man moved. Draco barely stopped himself from flinching the stranger brushed passed him. Confusion was dispelled a second later when a broad form pressed flushed against his back, strong arms encircling him. Draco jumped, his own hands clamping on the ones that held him.

“Easy there beautiful,” came a whisper of words against his ear. Draco had been about to demand that he be released as a bolt of pure lust that shot through him. He reasoned he was quite comfortable where he was.

Never had he reacted to anyone like this and it was almost an insult that the man had to be a muggle. But it was as if electricity prickled his skin where the man touched him. Already worked up from before, Draco felt liquid heat pool in his groin. Dimly he heard the song fade out and a faster, harsher one began. And then they moved.

Maybe he should be questioning this situation more, but relief tinged lust, with a hint of alcohol for flavouring, was a heady thing. Relief that he was finally going to get some after the shit day that he had had and lust, well, that spoke for itself. In moments like these, he felt wanted and that was such a rare thing that well, he craved it. But never had he felt so good in the arms of a man, a mugggle man, that he felt like sin itself. It could have been a dream.

Hell this probably is a dream. Yeah, that’s it. I passed out on my bed and this is just one of those rare depression induced fantasies of sex. Everyone gets them. It had to be. Because Draco couldn’t believe it, couldn’t understand it but sure as hell didn’t want to question it. It felt too good and even though his inner voice was screaming itself hoarse, he told it to piss off.

And to think he almost didn’t come tonight.

They were fucking with their clothes on. There was just no other way of putting it. Hips ground together as they tried to keep rhythm with the music blaring from the speakers. A hot mouth trailed scorching kisses along his jaw causing a desperate moan from Draco. As if it had a mind of its own, Draco’s arm rose to cup the back of the man’s head, keeping those sinful lips in place.

“Oh fuck,” Draco gasped as his nape was bitten. The was a sizable bulge being pressed against his arse and all he could do was grind back into it. Take me.

Calloused hands began moving up towards his chest and Draco stiffened before decidedly turning and whispering hotly against an ear. “Let’s get out of here.”


***


This was mental, Draco told himself. Yet he found himself hurrying to keep up with the man as he was dragged out through the back and into the ally, almost stumbling in his heels. It was a bit on the cold side but that was barely felt against his flushed skin. He didn’t even protest as he was manhandled against the wall and his lips immediately captured in a rough kiss. In fact, he responded in a way he had never done before.

This was why he had come to the club after all.

Groaning at the feeling of being taken, even if it was only his lips, Draco reached one bold hand forward and grabbed at the package that had been grinding against his arse not too long ago. The bulge felt hot and heavy in his palm and Draco whimpered in want, kneading it, wishing for it in his mouth, in his arse. Those skilled hands cupped his chest, kneading. Draco fought within himself to hold still.

Tongues duelled in an age old battle of dominance and submission until finally Draco relented and let the man take control of the kiss. But even as his mouth was plundered, he gave as good as he got with little nips to the lips and forceful sucking. It was wet. It was messy. It was exactly what he needed.

They broke apart for a quick breather. Draco was already lowering himself to his knees to fulfill one of his wishes when he was halted by the grip on his arms and a husky growl. “Later.” A second later he was unceremoniously flipped. Draco had to slap his hands against the wall to prevent from being slammed face first against its coarse surface. A little shaken at the rough treatment yet not wanting to stop, Draco faltered.

“It’s alright,” that husky voice crooned into his ear. “I’m going to take good care of you.” Those lips were back on his neck wreaking havoc on his already overloaded sensed. Draco whined (sweet Merlin whined!). He spread his legs wide, butt cocked out in a blatant appeal for attention. Firm hands kneaded his cheeks through the thin material of his little red dress before sliding down pantyhose covered thighs. When they reached the hem of the dress, thumbs hooked under, sliding the material up, over and higher; thumbs caressing smooth flesh as it went. Goosebumps broke out and Draco was a quivering mess as he bit his lip to keep from crying out. When the hands went to lift the dress higher, Draco halted it around his waist. He felt the man shrug.

One hand moved to hold the dress bunched above Draco’s ass while the man’s other hand reached between his thighs to the prize between. Kissed raining down his shoulders as a palm, big and purposeful, cupped, squeezed and massaged in one go the knickers-clad jewels.

Then froze. And squeezed again.

Time stood still for a moment in which Draco was poised and still quivering in frustrated anticipation. Then all hell broke loose.

“What the fuck?” The speed at which he was flung to the ground gave Draco whiplash. He sat sprawled on the ground, dress still bunched up around his waist, arse aching from the fall. Dimly he heard retching. It took a few seconds for his mind to process the dramatic change of events and when it did, it wished it hadn’t.

Towering above Draco, rage pouring off him in waves it fairly crackly the air was the man he had been silently begging to fuck him, now completely in focus. And suddenly everything fell horribly into place: why he couldn’t actually see the man, his body’s reaction to his nearness…

Wizardry. But…

Oh no, Merlin no, please no. “P-Potter?” It had been six years since Draco had seen him in person. Two since he had seen him in the Prophet but he would never forget that face.

Potter was advancing, grim determination on his face, but was shocked into immobility at his name. He blinked and squinted at Draco for so long, he felt like a cockroach. “Malfoy?!” The disgust that dripped from the word had Draco scrambling up to his feet, determined to retain some dignity.

His knees wouldn’t stop shaking.

Potter had turned green but the rage was still in full force coursing through his body. If anything, he seemed angrier. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, parading around in a dress? Is that how you’ve been spending your parole? Getting your kicks out of tricking men! I should beat the shit out of you for-”

Although Draco was terrified out of his wits, and rightfully so, he refused to be slurred. Alcohol was still clouding his judgement but he stepped forward. “You were in a gay bar, what else-”

That seemed to stop him. “What?” Potter frowned before dawning horror was evident in his features. Then the revulsion was back.

Draco had really screwed up. And now he had the Wizarding Worlds top Auror pissed at him. Stay calm.

Harry Potter took a menacing step forwards. “Get. Away. From me. Malfoy.”

Draco frowned in a mixture of confusion and fear. He could feel the tremors starting. “I-I don’t understand. You were perfectly willing just moments ago-”

“I fucking thought you were a woman!” Harry gritted through clenched teeth. “Merlin, do you have any idea how disgusted I am with myself right now.”

“I,” Draco stammered. Oh god.

“I mean look at yourself! What the fuck did you use, a Glamour?”

Draco was trembling so hard he had to clasp his hands behind his back to stem the tremors. With eyes squeezed shut he answered. “No,” he whispered. “

Potter stared at him blankly for a moment before he threw his head back and laughed uproariously. His eyes glued to Draco’s chest he speculated, “Muggle padding Malfoy? Well I got to give it to you. They feel real enough.” Then his mouth turned down in a self-ridiculing smile. “They sure as hell fooled me.”

Draco needed to leave. The situation was not turning out as he had hoped and it was becoming clear that he had made a grave mistake. He could tell that if he didn’t leave soon he was going to end up having another panic attack and that could not happen. Not in front of this Harry Potter. It seemed that the rumours that the Boy Who Once Was had become a jaded old bastard at the age of twenty-six were correct.

He started to edge away from this stranger but before he could go anywhere Potter’s arm snaked out lightning fast to grab hold of his arm. Draco cringed back in surprise, his heart slamming against his ribcage as Potter rose to his full height, still not quite taller that him (Though Draco had on heels), but making his already imposing figure that more pronounced.

Panicked grey eyes darted to cold green ones and what Draco saw in them made him flinch. “And just where are you going?” Potter whispered; his voice hoarse, his eyes mad and his smile vengeful.

Do something, his mind screamed. Draco shook his head. You aren’t weak. You haven’t been weak in a long time. Fight back! Draco silently told his mind that he would if his legs would stop wobbling.

Potter used his other hand to wrap around Draco’s waist and pull him flush against his body. “Princess Malfoy,” he purred into the blond locks.

Draco was so confused. The embrace felt so gentle yet strong but there was anger emanating off Potter like a tidal wave. And against his better judgement he could feel his body slowly relaxing against that strength.

Potter’s hand ran soothingly along the curve of Draco’s spine as he crooned softly into his ear. “That’s it. Relax.” His calloused hand moved sensuously from Draco’s spine, to around his waist where it slowly made its way up. Draco felt his stomach muscles tighten and he stiffened as that hand continued its path. He tried to pull away but Potter’s other hand, which had never relinquished its grip on his arm, tightened.

With a gasp of horror, a premonition of the intent of that hand flashed through Draco’s mind. “No.” The conviction in his voice surprised him and he upped his efforts to free himself.

Struggling like a wild thing now, Draco used his whole body push and pull, scratch and punch at Potter to loosen his grip. The sounds of Potter’s pained grunts brought little satisfaction.

With a growl a frustration Potter slammed the taller man into the ally’s wall. Draco’s head bounced off with a sickening whack that left black spots dancing before his eyes. For a moment he was too stunned to be scared. Dazedly he watched with half an eye as Potter, eyes now clouded with a madness unrecognizable, grabbed at the neckline of his dress.

“Fucking Malfoy,” Potter growled before there was a deafening rip of fabric.

Time seemed to stop. Draco felt his heart drop. He was paralysed. His breath hiccupped and his vision swam for a whole different reason now.

The tremors came back with a vengeance. No, no, no, no, no, he intoned.

Potter’s eyes were glued to Draco’s heaving chest. He had to blink several times, rapidly, to make sure that he was seeing correctly. Confused emerald orbs flew to Draco’s before fixing once again on that chest.

Please, no, no, no!

“Finite.” Potter’s voice was hoarse as he whispered the spell. For an asinine moment Potter questioned his wandless capabilities before he impatiently brushed it aside. In disbelief he reached up with a not quite steady hand to touch. His hand made contact for a split second and he gasped in disbelief.

“NO!” With a scream of pure terror, Draco wrenched himself free from between Potter and the unforgiving wall, clutching the tattered remains of his dress tightly to his body. He stumbled, eyes blurred by the tears which overflowed. He dropped to his knees with a keening wail, shaking so hard it was a wonder that the Earth didn’t move with him.

During all this Potter still face the wall. It took a moment for him to come back to the present and when he did it was to see Draco with his hands around his knees, rocking back and forth. Mumbled nonsense streamed from lips that barely moved. And, were those breasts.

Harry Potter was beyond confused.

***

tbc


Author’s Note: Argh! I am beyond annoyed. The ending just came across rushed (The conversation and Draco’s breakdown). I tried to fix it but it kept PISSING me off!!! *sigh* I’m sad. And the song was originally suppose to be in the dancing scene but…and then the dancing seemed weird without a song and…Argh! (I put my insecurities at the end AFTER you read it…HA!…or not -_-)

And sorry for the OOCness but time has gone by and people change. I know stuff kind of seems weird right now but there will be some explanations in the next chapter. I hope this seems intriguing and original. Oh, I am not sure where this fic is going so there may be more warnings down the road (maybe). Please review and/or rate so I can get feedback on what works and doesn’t (even the author‘s notes if they annoy you). Constructive criticisms! Until next time =]