Water, Water, Everywhere (A Drarry FanFiction)

Chapter One

'Water, water, everywhere,

Nor any a drop to drink.'

                    Samuel Taylor Coleridge

1926, Chicago

"Fellas, fellas!" Draco cried desperately as he was thrust into the dark, damp alleyway. He did his best to smile as he pushed back his hair then held up his hands. "This is all just a misunderstanding!"

The four goons continued to advance and Draco tried his best not to tremble. A light rain was falling softly around them, the Chicago night air warm and clawing. Draco pulled at his tie and tried to make it look like he wasn't taking short, panicky breaths.

"We warned you about this, buddy," one of the hulking guys growled. He cracked his knuckles and curled the corner of his mouth into a grotesque imitation of a smile. "Pretty rich boy, creepin' round like he ain't gotta play by the rules."

"Fellas," Draco tried again. He stumbled back into some trash but managed to keep his footing. Not this, anything but this. He'd rather get caught cheating at cards than this. "I swear, this is all just a mistake. If you'd like to call my father-"

The goons scoffed and laughed. "Yeah, we all know Senator Malfoy," a guy who resembled a gorilla said in a mocking tone. "Ain't he the one trying keep the city dry?"

"Down with the bootleggers," another said, quoting Draco's dad's campaign slogan. "He's sent a helluva lot of my buddies down the slammer. I'm sure he'd love to know his precious baby boy was sleazing round a speakeasy."

The gorilla shook his head, looming over Draco. "You make me sick, fucking sissy," he said. "You was warned about coming back here no more. Theo behind the bar says you gives him the willies."

"We don't want your sort scaring the ladies," knuckle cracker said. He grinned maliciously and Draco fought the bile that rose in his throat. "Reckon it's time we taught you a lesson."

They were right, of course. He was so fucked up, so sick in the head. What was wrong with him? He could look at the pretty girls on stage all he wanted. But, no. He had to get all moony eyed over the tall drink of water behind the bar.

"I'm sorry, guys," he said desperately as he backed up against the wall. His hair and shirt were sticking to him from how much he was perspiring as well as the misty rain clinging to the summer air. "Look, I didn't mean to cause any trouble. If you call my father, I'm sure he'd be willing to compensate you handsomely."

He was a fucking coward. His dad would kill him if he had to pay off some lowlifes who'd worked out his son was a queer. But he'd rather that than getting the shit kicked out of his can. He cowered and curled in on himself, his hands in front of his body again.

"Please," he whispered. "I won't come back I swear."

The gorilla tutted. "He ain't even denyin' he's a little pervert. What do we do with perverts, boys?"

The three other men's smiles became feral. One of them pulled out a set of knuckle dusters.

Draco closed his eyes and covered his face, just about ready to piss his god damned pants.

"Mr. Goyle?" A smooth voice drifted over the rain, accompanied by far off tinkling piano keys and the rolling rhythm of the drum from deep within the club.

Draco risked peeking through his fingers. His heart was slamming against his ribs.

Silhouetted in the doorway was a man Draco didn't recognize. His thick, black coat was draped over his shoulders and he held himself with the unmistakable gait of a guy who knew he was in charge. Strong shoulders, head held high. Draco could just about make out the fella's eyes under his hat.

He trembled, but this time for a different reason.

"It's okay, boss," said the gorilla, Mr. Goyle presumably. "We're just taking out the trash."

The boss man stepped forwards. The goons naturally parted for him. He had dark hair and the most captivating green eyes Draco had ever seen. He tried his best not to cower any more, but he didn't think he could bear the humiliation of getting a pounding in front of this gorgeous guy.

"I was just leaving," Draco stammered. The rain was getting worse. Despite the water washing through his clothes, he still felt dirty as sin. "I swear, I didn't mean to cause any trouble, mister."

The man tilted his head. "Mr. Potter," he supplied, even though Draco hadn't been fishing. His accent was refined, like one of those New York City types. "I can see that you're sorry, Mr...?

"Malfoy," Draco said.

He thought he saw a twitch of recognition on Mr. Potter's face. It wouldn't be surprising. Draco had tried to keep his face out of the papers, but they did love the Malfoys. They'd love to tear them down even more.

Fuck. He was completely at the mercy of this guy. Maybe a pounding would be better than risking his father's career and his mother's reputation. He'd do anything to protect them. He'd been such a fool.

"Mr. Malfoy," Mr. Potter murmured, like he was rolling it around in his mouth. "I'll see to it from here, gentlemen," he said with a flick of his hand. "Thank you for your diligence, as always."