GIVE ME YOUR HEART AND SOUL
(Title- Rewrite, Artist- Asian Kong-Fu Generation (opening theme for "Fullmetal Alchemist")
Disclaimer: I don't own them, never owned them and I think it's pretty safe to say that I will never own them either…
Summery: Sequel to "Nothing As It Seems", Draco and Oliver are navigating through the treacherous waters of living together. Little snippets of their life together, each chapter stands as a one-shot plot-wise.
Warning: Contains slash sex and adult language. Might include spoilers but only for the first six books (haven't got round to read the 'Deathly Hallows' yet…).
A/N: If you haven't read "Nothing As It Seems" than please do… But basically all you need to know to move on is that after quite a turbulent year, Draco and Oliver finally mad it to a place where they're happy and they decide to move in together. This story takes off pretty much where the other left off. Enjoy.
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Chapter summery: Draco is babbling on the joys of living together and finds a new friend. Draco's POV.
SAM
Life is good. Life is near perfect actually. I've never dreamt that living with someone would be like that. True, I was designed to marry a rich heiress from a good family (old money at the beginning, new money since I was about eight…), so at some point in my life I would have been forced to live with someone who wasn't blood related to me but this is where money became more than handy- it becomes essential. Money would have allowed us to live comfortably in a huge manor which meant each one of us had his own space and freedom and basically we never had to see each other or Merlin forbids sleep with each other (other than for procreation purposes but I really rather not think of that, thank you very much!).
Living with Oliver was different, day and night different. First of all, we didn't have a huge manor at our disposal and we didn't have thousands of square feet to rule over. What we have is a little cottage (tiny in face), that would probably fit whole in my old bedroom and that's better than anything I've ever imagined possible. Well, except for the part where I had to learn a bunch of domestic charms because we didn't have a house-elf (not that I would know where to fit one… Oliver said the elf would have to sleep with us in our bed when I mentioned it to him and that was pretty much all it took to get me off the idea completely).
I brought all my possessions from my room at the manor- the last act of kindness and recognition on my parents' part. As I said before, money means space and space needs to be filled with things and since I had not only a huge bedroom, but also a luxurious bathroom and a sitting room I had quite a lot of things. This was really lucky because my furniture was infinitely better than the pile of wood and fabric Oliver liked to call furniture! The only thing I allowed him to take from his old apartment was Dave's chair.
Speaking of Dave- Oliver's best friend is one of the most incredible craftsmen I ever met (it's true that I've never actually met one before but I met their work and I can safely say that Dave Mulligan is one of the best in the business), and he gave us the most amazing gift for our new house. True- he made the bed for Emma, as a wedding gift for them but since she left he said he didn't want it, it reminded him too much of her. Besides, I have a feeling his new girlfriend- Abby won't be too pleased to learn that he crafted and built a king-size bed for his former lover. And so Dave gave it to us as a 'wedding gift' (Such juvenile humour…) and it's the most brilliant thing! It's a beautiful artwork of wood and metal which, as Dave pointed out, had specially crafted bars for handcuffs (kinky Dave!), not that we used any, yet…
All in all, settling into our new home (I just love saying that- our home…) was as easy and painless as you'd expect. Oliver, in a very wise move on his part left decorating to me and took on the menial jobs of lumbering furniture from one spot to another. This kept me busy for the first week of the summer, as Oliver's training started as soon as we got to Montrose, two days after the school year ended.
Even the little nagging things that you discover after living with someone for a while (or a week really) were acceptable. Back in Hogwarts we used to spend two days together out of a week and those two days were mostly spent in bed, naked, so there wasn't much chance for me to find out that Oliver is a notorious towel thrower… He likes to leave his wet towels on the floor for Merlin's little helper to pick up! Actually, all of Oliver's nags are somehow bath related- for example, he's a shower singer! A bad one! At first I thought it was cute- just like anything he did in the first week but after a couple of days it started to get on my nerves, because he just can't carry a bloody tune! But I learned that the best way to deal with him (other than yell at him) is just to ignore. So far it's working like a charm.
Right now I was trying my hardest to slip back into blissful sleep before Oliver has to get up and leave me. His training schedule forced him to be on the pitch at six a.m. sharp, every morning which meant that I had to wake up early as well. Not that I minded much, I was always an early riser by nature, and it did enable me to have breakfast with him, though it also meant that I had more time to spend on my own. I wriggled myself deeper into Oliver's arms, just happy to feel him against me. This is the real bliss of join accommodation, this is what makes it all worth it- to wake up to the feel of the body of the person you love most pressed against you. It makes me feel safe, wanted and secure and in turn that makes for a great start for the day.
Oliver was moving behind me, pressing his morning wood into my lower back before he was even awake. It was just too brilliant to pass on and I wriggled a bit, and pressed back against it. Oliver emitted a sleepy groan and his arms tightened around me,
"Gods, lovely, are you trying to kill me?" I snickered softly,
"No, just make sure you have a really good morning." Oliver's sleepy laughter was vibrating through my skin, making the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Before I had a chance to pursue my little tease session I found myself flat on my back with a growling Oliver towering over me,
"Just waking by you makes my morning good, but obviously you need a little more persuasion…" I didn't even have time to gasp in offence before he sealed his lips on mine. I guess it must be real love and all if we're willing to endure each other's morning breath and mouth dryness.
Oliver started to wreath against me, rubbing his rock-hard muscles all over me. Sadly for me, Oliver wasn't a big fan of morning sex- or at least not since he started training. I guess I can't really blame him, not when I know that what he likes doing best after a shag is cuddle and fall asleep, but I still feel a little deprived… but hey, a frotting and rubbing treatment from Oliver is worth ten shags from anyone else (figuratively of course, if my snogging list consist of three people you can guess how many are on my shagging list… sad but true…).
After Oliver expertly brought us both to completion he regretfully jumped out of the bed and rushed to the shower. I stretched out and glanced out of the window, to our little garden. Every morning I look at this garden and every morning I tell myself I need to do something about it because right now it looks like Potter's hair… And each morning I tell myself I'll sort it out tomorrow. I always hated gardening, too much outdoors time, being under the scorching sun and get my hands dirty… Oliver says I'm too prissy for such things, I like to think I was properly brought up- I mean what are gardeners for after all? Too bad we can't afford one.
When we were both finally showered and ready for the day ahead we sat down in out little kitchen for a spot of breakfast. Since neither of us was much of a cook, our breakfast mostly consisted of toast, butter and jams. Maybe I should learn how to cook eggs… Michael always raves about how much fun cooking is… I mean what's the worst that can happen?
Filled to the brim with toast it was time to say goodbye. Oliver hoisted his sports bag and with a smacking kiss he was off. I cleaned the kitchen and turned to start off my own day.
I left the house, carefully locking it behind me- something I only learned to do a week ago, since the manor had suck strong wards around it, if you did manage to get to the door uninvited- you probably deserved to get in… And headed toward the seashore. Ever since I got here I learned the joys of living near the water. In Wiltshire there was a little creek crossing the manor's grounds, but no nearby sea. I just love the sea here, so rough and primal.
I took to have morning walks on the beach almost as soon as we moved in here, there's just something so… relaxing about them. In the week I've been doing it I learned that I wasn't the only nutter who liked to stroll around the beach at six o'clock in the morning. There's the couple who practices Tai-chi, they're the first people I mean on my root. I love watching them, the way the motions almost mimic the sea waves in their fluidity. They look like a really odd couple, he's an old Asian man and she's a young redhead, Scottish lass.
A little further down the coast there the man I dubbed as "Loony", and not because he reminds me of that silly Ravenclaw girl but because he actually goes to a dip, at six a.m. in the northern sea… Loony. Usually when I pass by he's just coming out of the water, shivering like mad but grinning like a loon, always giving me a proud salute.
There's this little unspoken truce between us- the morning people, we don't actually talk to each other, but we nod and smile. This is the hour of the loners, the hour when people come to be alone with their thoughts. Only truly dedicated people come every morning to the same place to do the same thing, and we soon learned to see which is like us and which isn't. There are of course the random strollers, mostly people that come to Montrose as tourists, and want to enjoy the seashore before it gets too crowded, but they leave soon enough.
I love my morning walks, everything is so quiet and serene in this hour of the day, when everything just wakes up, no-one can be mad in this hour- if you don't like it, you just stay in bed, so if you decided to actually make the move and tear yourself from the warmth of the blankets you have to love it. I love the sound of the waves, crushing in again and again, never tiring of their endless cycle, the sound of the gravely sand under my trainers (Oliver introduced me to the concept of sports shoes, and frankly, I don't think I'll ever wear anything else!).
The next one to greet me is the painter, she's a sweet old lady who's been painting scenes of the sea in acrylic and oil (apparently according to the light breaking over the water or something). I find extraordinary that even after doing it for so long- I spoke with her on my first day and she told me she's been painting the sea every day for the last ten years, that she can still find it versatile and changing enough to find interest in it and paint it over and over again. This or she's just completely senile and thinks she sees it for the first time each morning…
After the old painting lady comes the young bodybuilder. Not sure why he's lifting weights on the beach, and more importantly, why he's giving me little sultry smiles and eyebrow wriggling, but I try my hardest not to encourage him. He's completely not my type after all- way too buff (Yeah, I know, ironic, isn't it? I'll just have you know that Oliver isn't buff, he's fit!).
After the weight lifter I usually turn and go back, mostly because there's a series of caves there so the beach pretty much ends there. But also because those caverns scare me. I made the mistake of approaching them the first morning and it took me three days after that to be able to go as far as the weightlifter guy again. The echoing sound of the water washing through the caves made me feel so small and insignificant and I hate feeling like that!
Today, though, just as I was turning to leave I heard a sound coming from the caves. It wasn't the usual whooshing of the water, but something that sounded almost like… a whimper. I trained my ears and here it was again, a definite whimper this time. Someone, or something was in there and crying for help. Now, I was never a brave man, and anyone who knows me can vouch for that, but something in that desperate cry called out to me and I just couldn't turn my back on it.
And so I bravely ventured towards the caves, trying to block out all the sounds but the desperate cry and walked towards it. I was hoping that whatever it was wasn't too deep into the caverns, because I knew how traitorous the echoes could be and I had absolutely no desire to wander too far into the caves, now found sense of compassion or not!
Luckily for me the source of the cries happened to be just inside the mouth of the nearest opening, in the form of a little mutt. It wasn't much to look at but when it turned those sad eyes to me I was a goner. I knew that no matter what Oliver might say or if we couldn't afford to keep it, I had to get it out of there. At least to get it to an animal shelter or something.
When I reached over the little mutt cowered in fear and I froze on the spot, instincts guiding me to lower myself and approach with extra care and deliberation. I was full of blazing rage towards the people who hurt this little puppy so and left it to die on the beach, because when I drew near I could see that there was blood matted on its coat. The dog lowered its head and watched me approaching, not daring to move or not able to. Our eyes locked and I slowly reached my hand forward, until I gently touched the dirty and blood-caked fur. After the initial shock the mutt relaxed under my hand and after about five minutes of patting it I gained enough of the dog's trust to be able to lift it and cradle it to my chest.
I could feel the little body in my arms shivering and I hoped it was from cold and not fear. I started making my way back, this time lengthening my strides and hurrying back home. I needed to wash the little dog and hopefully check for sex since it felt a little impersonal to think of it as "it". When we entered the house I immediately drew a warm bath, making sure the water were lukewarm so that I won't scorch my new protégé. The mutt seemed rather pleased with the treatment if the wagging of its tail was any indication (wagging one's tail inside the tub makes for one messy bathroom…), after I shampooed it with my own shampoo and dried the little body I discovered that luckily the bloody was only coming from a small cut on the mutt's neck that already mostly closed up, and which was probably caused by a leach fastened too strong. I desperately needed to get the dog to a dog-healer, only I didn't know of anyone who was an expert in dogs.
A quick glance confirmed that dog was a "he" and in a spur of the moment I decided to dub it 'Sam'. Sam was a beautiful dog, or will be once he lost his baby fat- unless he's already old and looks like someone stepped on him… hmm, I need to have this checked! Anyway, assuming that he was still a puppy, he was going to grow beautifully, I think. His fur was a golden sort of hue and looked rather long. He looked like a little lion.
After we were both clean and dry and warm (I had to take a bath myself after dealing with Sam's) I took my new pet to the kitchen to find some milk for him. He drank two bowlful of tepid milk with pieces of bread soaked in it and then went to the living room and after turning a couple of times around himself promptly fell asleep in the corner. I perched myself on the armchair nearby and pulled my potions text to me and started to read.
When Oliver stepped in after finishing training both Sam and I were napping, Sam in my lap. I woke up to the feel of Oliver's lips on my forehead and blinked my eyes open to see my lover crouching before me looking rather puzzled.
"Hey Ollie." I yawned wide and Oliver turned his gaze to my lap,
"Hey. I see you have a new friend." He gestured at Sam who was yawning as well and giving Oliver a friendly wag of his tail. It was unfair really, that he took to Oliver so easily…
"Yes, this is Sam. I found him on the beach this morning." I explained and then turned my best puppy dog eyes at Oliver (I've learned it from Sam when he was asking for more milk…), "Can we keep him?" Oliver was scratching behind Sam's ears, much to Sam's delight,
"We need to take him to the vet to see that he's healthy." I looked at him questioningly,
"The what?" Oliver smiled and kissed the tip of my nose,
"The vet, a veterinarian is a muggle animal doctor." He explained. Hell, who knew that muggles could come up with something as an animal healer all by themselves?
"But if he's healthy, can we keep him?" Oliver ran his eyes from me to Sam and grinned,
"Sure."
A/N: I don't know if the shore of Montrose has caves or not, since I've never been there. So please, don't get mad at me for geographical inaccuracies.
He's just a little chatterbox, our Draco is…