emmagrant01 | FIC: Left My Heart (2/11)

Note:This is the rough draft of this fic! Please go here for the final version.

Title: Left My Heart
Author: Emma Grant
Rating: NC-17, overall
Archive: Please ask
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Summary: Post-Hogwarts. Auror Draco Malfoy has disappeared, and Harry Potter has been sent to find him.
Warnings: WIP! There will be approximately six parts, total, maybe seven.
Disclaimer: Don't own them, not making any money, no infringement intended.
Note: Set present day, February 2004. Thanks to

jedirita,

edajaram, and

wyomingnot for the betas! Part 3 has been sent off for beta, and part 4 is being written.
Feedback: Yes, please. The response to the first part was fairly stunning!

Link to part one.

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Malfoy hadn't been kidding about the cost of dinner, Harry thought as he stared at the nearly-empty plate of sushi before him. He hoped the Ministry would be forgiving when they saw his credit card statement. Of course, if he succeeded in convincing Malfoy to come back to London with him it would smooth things over considerably.

The sushi chef set a platter before them, and Malfoy grinned at the distress on Harry's face. "Come on, Potter. It's sort of like foie gras."

"I hate foie gras," Harry muttered.

Malfoy picked up a green bundle topped with bright orange goo with his chopsticks. "Have you ever actually tried it, or have you only had those pâtés from the grocery?"

"What's the difference?"

Malfoy scoffed. "Eat the uni, Potter. You're paying for it, after all."

"I want more toro," Harry said, poking at the orange goo with one chopstick. "I like toro."

"Quit cher whining," Malfoy retorted in an approximation of an American accent, just before taking a careful bite. He smiled at Harry as he chewed. Harry narrowed his eyes, still unconvinced this wasn't a trick to get him to eat something disgusting. "Your turn," Malfoy said.

Harry gritted his teeth. It was only a small bit of goo. How bad could it be, really? If Malfoy could eat it, so could he. Though Malfoy had probably put much stranger things in his mouth than a bit of sea urchin, so perhaps it wasn't a good comparison. He picked the seaweed package up with his fingers and bit into it.

His first impression was of cold, salty, slime spreading across his tongue. His second impression was even worse. He chewed, but that only made the goo fall apart in his mouth and spread everywhere. He grimaced and forced it down as best he could.

When he opened his eyes, Malfoy was laughing. "Do you always make that face when you swallow?"

"Only when I swallow something revolting," Harry retorted, reaching for his beer. Malfoy snickered and finished off his own piece of uni. Harry shuddered when Malfoy didn't even make a face. "Do you really like it?"

Malfoy shrugged and took a big gulp of sake. "Not really," he said, after a moment. "But the look on your face was worth it."

Harry tried to glare at him, but ended up grinning instead. The entire evening had been like this. Malfoy had emerged from his flat at ten past 8:00, not even apologizing for making Harry wait in a cab with the meter running. He'd only grinned as he sidled up to Harry in the back seat, looping an arm through one of Harry's and directing the driver to the Embarcadero district. Malfoy was dressed stylishly, enough that Harry wished he'd thought to change his own clothes after his brief nap that evening. Malfoy had wrinkled his nose at Harry's jeans, but said nothing.

The restaurant -- a trendy Japanese spot called Ozumo -- reeked of glamour. The tables and bar were filled with beautiful, stylish people, all eating beautiful, stylish food and drinking sake from tiny cups. Harry was very glad he wasn't spending his own money. Tonight's bill would likely top $250, at the rate Malfoy was going. Harry wasn't sure where on his skinny frame he was putting all that food.

Malfoy clasped a piece of mackerel nigiri between his chopsticks and stared dreamily at it for a moment. "You still haven't told me why you're here," Harry said, watching the nigiri disappear between Malfoy's lips. The expression on his face changed to one of absolute bliss, and he sank down in his bar stool.

For the tenth time this evening, Malfoy had gone from annoying to adorable in a heartbeat. Had he always been this way, Harry wondered? Why hadn't he ever noticed? He sipped his beer as Malfoy pushed himself back up to a sitting position. "Good?" Malfoy nodded and let his eyes roll back for effect.

"More sake?" the waiter asked, leaning between them to collect empty plates.

"Please," Harry replied, and the waiter smiled. Harry watched him walk away.

"Honestly, Potter, just ask him for his number. Or better yet, what time he gets off."

Harry's gaze returned to Malfoy. "What are you talking about?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Please. You've been checking that waiter out all night."

"I have not!" Harry willed himself not to blush, as it would send entirely the wrong message.

"You're in San Francisco, Potter. No need to be coy."

"I'm not being--" The waiter reappeared with a new bottle of chilled sake and poured some into each of their glasses. Harry studied his own hands intently until the man left. "I hate to disappoint you, Malfoy, but I'm not gay." Malfoy's eyebrows shot up, his sake cup not quite covering the smug grin that was starting to form on his face. He didn't say it, but Harry could nearly hear the Oh, really? "I'm married, for one thing."

A look of disappointment fluttered over Malfoy's face for a split second before it was replaced with a serene mask once again. "Married?"

"Well... separated, actually." Harry sighed. "Getting a divorce." He picked up the sake cup and downed its contents in one go.

Malfoy refilled it before Harry had a chance to put it back down. "That bad?"

Harry shrugged. "It's horrible in some ways, and a tremendous relief in others."

"Weasley?"

"No," Harry replied, realizing that Malfoy had truly cut himself off from British wizarding society. Harry's whirlwind marriage had caused quite a stir in the papers, and the divorce was making news as well. Harry was mildly surprised that Malfoy didn't know these details already, but he seemed genuinely curious. They'd both had quite a bit of alcohol at this point, and Harry knew he'd probably regret speaking so frankly come morning. He didn't have anyone at home to talk to, though. Hermione was his only real friend left, and she was busy with her work and her own family. Harry placed the sake glass back on the bar. "I married Cho."

"Cho Chang? You're kidding."

"Way out of my league, I know." Harry held up his hand to fend off the anticipated sarcastic remark. "She and I were assigned together, right out of Auror training. We dated off and on, and then we had a few... intense experiences, right around the time that Voldemort..." Harry dropped off, suddenly realizing he'd brought up a subject that Malfoy would probably not want to discuss. Not yet, anyway.

"Yes, yes, Voldemort, my father, and the messy way it all ended." Malfoy didn't look the least bit uncomfortable. "Well, I suppose ended is a strong term."

Indeed, Harry thought. Voldemort had simply vanished after that horrible day three years ago. Half of Harry's friends had died in a single week. Harry hadn't even played the role everyone had expected him to -- Dumbledore had done that, and had paid dearly for it. And no one knew if it was really over, or if Voldemort was out there somewhere, waiting.

"Well, anyway," Harry continued, "Cho and I were together for a few months after that. We broke it off, and a month later, she showed up on my doorstep, pregnant. It was a stupid reason to get married." Harry paused and sipped his sake. "I think we both wanted to build something new after all of that destruction."

"So you have a kid?" Malfoy asked. He'd gone pale again.

"No." Harry sighed, already wishing he hadn't started down this path. "She had a miscarriage. We'd only been married a month. It was so traumatic. Afterwards, we thought we could still make it work, even try for a baby again, but..." He shrugged again, and felt the world begin to swim around him in a haze of sake.

Malfoy said nothing, just sat quietly, listening. Waiting, in case Harry decided to talk more. Harry had never thought of Malfoy as a good listener. To be honest, he hadn't thought much of Malfoy at all.

"We separated about six months ago. She moved on fairly quickly, and I've buried myself in my work. That's about it, really." He looked up to see Malfoy studying him. "What?"

Malfoy smiled and shrugged. "So you're suffering from a broken heart, then?"

Harry winced. "Well, not exactly. That's the problem. I never really loved her, at least not in the way I expected to love my wife. I miss her in some ways, but it was never exactly a great relationship, if you get my meaning." He stopped, realizing he had told Malfoy far more than he'd intended. He felt himself blush.

Malfoy studied him for a moment. "Not exactly a model for the wizarding world, are you, Potter? Married, divorced, and bitter -- all by the age of 24?"

"Oh, fuck you," Harry groaned, though his voice carried no venom at all. "What have you been doing these last five years? What has the great Draco Malfoy -- sole heir to the Malfoy estate and all that -- accomplished?"

Malfoy didn't take the bait. He only grinned at Harry and raised his glass to his lips. "Wouldn't you like to know?" he said, and took a measured sip of sake.

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February 4, 2004

"You've been what?"

"Hanging out with him," Harry said, picturing the expression on Hermione's face. "It hasn't been that bad."

"It can't have been that good, either."

"Actually, it's been... fun." Harry wrinkled his nose at his own choice of word. "Well, you know, different."

"Harry, are you certain this is a good idea?"

"No," Harry admitted, "but I don't have any others. He won't confide in me or agree to return to the Ministry unless he trusts me."

Harry heard a long-suffering sigh from the other end of the line. "As your official Ministry liaison, I must advise you not to trust Malfoy." Hermione had been so pleased to inform him she'd been formally assigned to the case. Now she could be nosy and interfering, and claim she was doing her job. "I went through all of the CIA's intell today, including reports from Malfoy's co-workers in the New York Bureau of Magic. He started receiving mysterious owls two months before he disappeared, and he became increasingly secretive and anti-social."

Harry snorted into the receiver. "Malfoy, anti-social?" That certainly wasn't the impression he'd gotten over the last few days.

"And then he disappeared, leaving no word of where he was going. After five years in that bureau, Harry!" Hermione paused, and Harry pictured her twirling a strand of hair around her finger in frustration. "I just worry that... Harry, you've had a bad time of it recently, and I know you're lonely--"

"It's not like that!" Harry groaned. "Do you really think I'm that desperate for friendship, that I'd turn to Draco Malfoy?"

A little voice in the back of his head said, Well, yes -- actually, you are.

Hermione sighed again. "All right, all right. What exactly do you and Malfoy do together, anyway?"

"We've had dinner together the last few nights. I've spent some time during the afternoons in the coffee shop where he works, watching him."

"He's working in a coffee shop?" Hermione's tone was somewhere between amused and incredulous.

"He's living as a Muggle, Hermione. As far as I can tell, he has no contact with any wizards at all. He's hiding here."

"But from what? And why hide without telling anyone where he was going?"

Harry yawned. "I don't know. He won't tell me anything about his life in New York. We've gone out for the last three nights, and we've talked about everything from politics to music to my divorce, but I haven't been able to get him to talk about himself."

"I hope you know what you're doing."

Harry snorted. "Of course I don't. But that's never stopped me before."

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February 5, 2004

The day before, Malfoy had actually taken care of him as he sat at his small corner table, reading a book he'd borrowed from the B&B owner. Malfoy had brought over a fresh cup of coffee and a pastry every hour or so, until Harry had asked if Malfoy was trying to fatten him up.

"I always thought you were too skinny," Malfoy had replied, grinning.

"Me?!" Harry had gestured vaguely at him. "Can you not afford to eat, or something?"

"I can't help it if I have a high metabolism," Malfoy simpered.

"And you wear clothes that make you look even thinner. What is it with you and nylon shirts, anyway?"

Malfoy had grinned at him then, with a brilliance that had made something inside Harry's chest twist. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen that expression on his former enemy's face before. "I'm flattered you've taken such an interest in my personal appearance," Malfoy had said with a wink as he walked away, leaving Harry confused about what had just happened.

Of course he'd noticed what the man looked like. All he did was watch Malfoy, lately. But that didn't mean he was looking, not like that.

The sun was streaming in through the window when Harry woke up, the clock indicating that it was past 10:00 already. Yawning, and still not quite adjusted to the time change, he snuggled down into the covers once again. Malfoy would just be heading to work about now. Harry would get up eventually and head over to the café, drink lots of coffee, and watch Malfoy for a few more hours.

He was overtaken by an impulse to get out of bed and into the shower.

He exchanged pleasantries with the manager on his way out the door -- no, he actually did have plans tonight, but thanks -- and headed up the street to the Jumpin' Java Coffee House. He didn't spot Malfoy right off, but settled into his usual spot after picking up an abandoned newspaper.

A young woman with very black hair and many piercings made her way to the table.

"Morning, Rosie," Harry said.

"Today's his day off, you know," she replied.

Harry blinked. "Oh. I forgot." He'd had no idea, of course. He fidgeted for a moment, trying to decide what to do. "I guess I'll have the usual to take away, then."

Fifteen minutes later, he was standing in front of the door of Malfoy's apartment building, wondering if he had gone out of his mind. Malfoy probably hadn't told him it was his day off because he had no desire to spend it with Harry Potter. Perhaps he'd just hoped Harry would give up and spend the day alone, for once. Harry frowned when he realized they hadn't made any plans for tonight at all. They'd been making dinner arrangements after a few hours of banter at the café. When they parted ways after dinner last night, neither of them mentioned meeting the following night.

Harry finally decided he was being ridiculous. It had clearly slipped Malfoy's mind to tell him he wouldn't be at work on Thursday morning. He pressed the buzzer for Malfoy's flat.

"What?" he heard through the intercom after a few minutes and two more presses.

"Um, good morning. It's me, Harry." He paused, cringing. Why did he always say such stupid things around Malfoy?

There was no response other than the click of the door lock, and he went in. Malfoy's flat was on the third floor of the restored Victorian. Harry knocked on the ornate wooden door, and it opened after a moment to reveal a very disheveled-looking Malfoy.

His auburn-streaked hair was uncharacteristically messy, and he was shirtless, wearing only a thin pair of cotton pyjama pants. He blinked sleepily at Harry from behind a pair of oblong tortoise-shell rimmed glasses.

"What the fuck do you want?"

Harry couldn't help but feel hurt at his tone. "I went to the café and they said you were off. I thought maybe..." He stared at Malfoy. "How long have you worn glasses?"

Malfoy yawned and scratched his chest lazily. "Since I was fifteen." He pushed the door open and waved Harry inside. "Coffee?"

Harry held up his paper cup. "No, I'm fine, actually. I'm sorry if I'm--"

A muscular dark-skinned man, clad only in a pair of boxers, emerged from what was undoubtedly the bedroom. He ignored Malfoy and Harry and headed for the refrigerator. Harry watched the man through narrowed eyes, feeling a strange blend of uncomfortable emotions. The man helped himself to a Diet Coke and was heading back towards the bedroom before he noticed Harry.

"Good morning," he grinned, sliding an arm around Malfoy and pulling him close, nuzzling his neck. Any doubts Harry'd had about Malfoy's sexual orientation were firmly put to rest.

Malfoy looked extremely uncomfortable. He gestured towards Harry as he wriggled away from his lover. "That's Harry, an old friend. Harry, this is..." He paused, squinting at the man. "A guy I fucked last night," he finished, frowning. The man laughed and winked at Harry before disappearing into the bedroom once more.

Harry tried very hard not to appear shocked. "I'm sorry. I've clearly come at a bad time."

Malfoy yawned again. "No, not at all. He'll be leaving soon. I'll put some coffee on." He gestured towards the small table in the kitchen area. "Sit."

Harry did, not certain what else to do. He watched Malfoy make coffee and pour himself a bowl of cereal. He fidgeted a bit when Malfoy sat across from him and started eating.

"So, have a good night, then?" he asked at last, and immediately regretted it. Malfoy smirked and nodded, chewing. Harry ran a hand through his hair. He was extremely uncomfortable and bordering on irritated, for absolutely no reason. "Where did he...?" He paused, not really certain what he was asking.

"I picked him up in a bar," Malfoy stated through a mouthful of Cheerios.

"Last night?"

Malfoy nodded slowly, as if speaking to a small child. "Yes."

"When did you go to a bar? I dropped you off at 11:00." Harry wondered why this irritated him so much. Malfoy could do whatever he wanted. It wasn't like he'd lied to Harry, after all. Of course, Harry had started to think that Malfoy was enjoying his company. Had he just been passing the time each night until he could go to a bar and pick up strange men to take home?

"Today's my day off," Malfoy explained. "I always go out on Wednesday and Thursday nights." He tilted his head and smiled. "Besides, I was horny. It wasn't like you were going to fuck me."

Harry blushed, as much from anger as embarrassment. "So you just waved goodbye and headed for the nearest bar, in search of someone who would?" He had no idea why the situation made him angry.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Yes. Next question?" The conversation was cut short by the reappearance of Malfoy's guest, now fully dressed.

Malfoy ignored the man, getting up to pour himself a cup of coffee. Harry stood, feeling extremely awkward.

"Guess I'll see you 'round," the man said, glancing around the corner into the kitchenette.

"Yeah, sure," Malfoy replied. He didn't look up. Harry didn't know if he should be relieved or offended by Malfoy's casual dismissal of his one-off. He couldn't imagine treating anyone that way. He shrugged at the man, uncertain how he was supposed to behave in this situation.

The man grinned at Harry and leaned towards him to whisper, "He gives amazing head, and he's a bit of a screamer." Harry struggled not to make a face as the man let himself out.

"Okay, that was far too much information," Harry muttered at the closed door.

"What did he say?" Malfoy asked, sitting down with his coffee.

"That you're an insensitive prick," Harry retorted, slumping into his chair. He took a sip of his coffee, and was annoyed to find it was cold.

Malfoy grinned. "Oh, but I have a very sensitive prick."

Harry snorted in response.

"Why do you give a shit, anyway?"

"I don't."

Malfoy nodded and smiled. They were both silent for a moment, sipping coffee. "Have any plans today?"

"No," Harry replied. "I was going to watch you work again, I suppose. Hang around." He glanced around the small flat. "This is fairly nice, Malfoy. How do you afford this on the paltry salary you must earn serving coffee?"

Malfoy grinned. "I've always managed money quite well, Potter. The coffee shop job provides me with spending money, something to do. I'm quite comfortable, really." He pushed his empty cereal bowl away and stretched.

Harry watched him for a moment, all pale skin and sharp angles. "I never saw you wear glasses at Hogwarts."

"That's because I never did," Malfoy replied. "I learned the vision alteration charm over the summer before sixth year so I wouldn't have to."

"That's a complicated spell," Harry stated, impressed. He'd attempted it a few times, but hadn't been pleased with the results. It only lasted about 18 hours, anyway, and he didn't mind wearing glasses.

Malfoy quirked one eyebrow up. "It was important to me. My mother helped me learn it." He shrugged. "Of course, I typically have to wait until the Muggle I fucked leaves before I do it. Hence, you get to see me in glasses."

"Malfoy..." Harry groaned.

Malfoy grinned. "I was going to straighten up today, do some shopping. You're welcome to tag along, if you want."

Harry shrugged, feeling strangely pleased. "I've nothing else to do."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes and studied Harry for a moment. "Why are you here, anyway? You've done nothing but follow me around for the last four days."

"Three," Harry said, retrieving his wand from his sleeve and casting a quick spell to reheat his coffee. "And I already told you -- I'm supposed to make certain you're safe. I spend a few weeks observing you, then I report back to the Ministry. They probably thought I could use a vacation."

Malfoy nodded and took a sip from his mug. "Right."

Harry smiled innocently. "So what are you doing here?"

"I live here, stupid. Want to go out tonight?"

Harry sighed at the abrupt change of topic. "Of course. Where?"

"I usually go dancing with friends on Thursdays," Malfoy replied. He stood and rummaged around in a cabinet above the microwave. "We hit a few clubs, drink too much, check out hot boys. Get laid, if possible."

"Exactly my idea of a good time," Harry remarked dryly.

Malfoy pulled his wand from the cupboard he'd been searching and cast a few housekeeping spells in the general direction of the kitchenette. Dishes began filing themselves into the dishwasher, and a rag began wiping down countertops.

"Mine too," Malfoy smiled, sitting down across from Harry again.

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Go on to part three