The Serpentines Chapter 1: It All Starts Here, a harry potter fanfic

Story: The Serpentines

Rating: PG-13 (Might change later on)

Disclaimer: Characters belong to JK Rowling. .... :'

Warnings: AU, HPDM Slash (Eventually!), Non-magic, WiP

Summary: When Harry Potter makes the cut for the nationwide sensation, The Serpentines, he's in for the ride of his life, no thanks to his new band mate, Draco Malfoy. Unfortunately for Harry, he's not as made for being a musician as he thought he was, but he'll be damned if he let's Draco know that, especially when he thinks the other man's got a hidden agenda.

Notes and such: Well this is my third Harry Potter fanfic, EVER! Though the first on this account, and it's been a long time since I've written one, so hopefully it's not too horrible. Haha! I've had this idea running around in my head for a long time, but I finally decided to just go with it! I know it starts off in the middle of stuff, but when I write things, I play it like a movie in my head, and I like when movies start in the middle of a scene, and then give you back information as you go. Though I don't know if anyone else will like it.. Hopefully you will!

The smell of sweat and feel of adrenaline swam through the corridors of the backstage area Harry Potter was currently sitting in. Well, more like shifting nervously every few seconds with his legs bouncing uncontrollably against the cement floor. But that wasn't important. Neither was the fact that his stomach was twisting in knots, and his previously styled hair was now in complete disarray, not that it had looked much better before.

Whose bright idea was it to leave him all alone, anyways? With all the hundreds of people running back and forth, you'd think he'd at least have some company, even if it was only the janitor.

Unfortunately for Harry, his band mates were all currently occupied elsewhere, leaving him to his thoughts. Thoughts he'd rather not be having, thank you very much. He couldn't think about the fact that he was going onstage in less than twenty minutes, to an arena packed full of people who were here to see The Serpentines, the band Harry had not too long ago become a member of. Nobody was coming to see him, Harry Potter. Nobody even gave a wink about him, let alone wanted to watch him attempt to play an instrument. So what was he doing here?

Harry hated tomatoes.

He didn't like to eat tomatoes, smell tomatoes, and certainly did not enjoy being pelted with tomatoes. Not that the particular situation had ever happened before, so he couldn't say from experience… But he just knew he wouldn't like it. That's what people did though, isn't it? When they didn't enjoy a show or performance, they threw tomatoes. Now that he thought about it, he didn't like cabbage, either. Or popcorn. Or anything of the various things people could haul at him.

He was just going to give up food in general. That would cover it, right? Right.

There really should be someone around to help him calm down, because now his leg was bouncing more fervently, and Harry couldn't seem to control it. Sometime during his thoughts, his right hand had moved to his mouth, and he found himself with the nasty habit of gnawing on his meticulously cut and groomed fingernails. What a silly idea, grooming your fingernails. However, his mates insisted on it, assuring him that if he was going to be playing a guitar, his nails needed to look perfect in case someone had taken a picture of his hands. Harry, however, thought it was a waste of time. Nobody took pictures of people's hands. Well, with the exception of—

"Harry Potter, release your hand immediately! Such a vile habit."

Snapping his head up at the owner of that shrill voice and interrupter of his thoughts, Harry spotted Pansy glaring at him from above. Immediately, he did as she ordered and slammed his hand down on the cushion beside him. This couch was dreadfully uncomfortable, he noticed, bouncing up and down on it a few times.

"Harry, there you are," announced a bushy-haired brunette who appeared behind Pansy. She rushed over to him instantly, her arms wrapping around his shoulders in what was presumably a comforting hug. It worked, a little. The fact that Hermione was here at all actually relieved Harry immensely. It was one less person to throw tomatoes at him.

"Hermione, I'm glad you made it." He smiled at her when she pulled away, choosing instead to sit beside him, her hands moving to fix the mess he had made of his hair.

"I wouldn't miss this for the world, Harry. It's your first big show, I'm so excited!" She squeaked and held on tightly to his hands. "Oh, aren't you excited? I'll bet it's wonderful up there on stage, with everyone watching you, cheering for you…" Throwing tomatoes at you.

"Yeah, 'Mione, super excited," he replied in a shaky voice. He turned to notice Pansy was still standing there, watching their little exchange impatiently. Obviously, Harry was supposed to be doing other things, and this little chat with Hermione didn't fit into his schedule. Of course, neither did sitting in an isolated room worry your brains out, so Harry wasn't going to rush himself now.

"Harry, don't be nervous. You're a wonderful musician, and you know all the songs. You'll do great, I'm positive."

Before he could protest, and tell Hermione that he couldn't do it and that at the moment, he couldn't remember any of the songs, but he never got the chance to, because Pansy was whisking him up from his seat on the couch, and pulling him through the door that led to the hallway. He was vaguely aware of her listing something off to him, no doubt what he was supposed to be doing, but the sight of Hermione waving goodbye to him excitedly, mixed with the loud clicks of Pansy's high heels captivated his attention more than her voice.

Harry didn't know where they were headed, but glancing at a clock along the wall, he noticed it was only ten minutes until they went on stage. Shouldn't he be busy with something like tuning his bass, or making sure everything was working? Surely something terrible could have happened in between the sound check yesterday and now. For all he knew, all his guitars could be missing, and he'll go up there looking like a complete fool. His palms began to sweat.

Finally, they turned into a room filled with more people than there should be. He was greeted with smiles upon his entrance, and he smiled in return, vaguely remembering some of these people he had already been introduced to. All he knew was that they were part of the act, dancers and performers who would do things in the background. Soon enough though, he spotted two bright blond heads and a black-haired one next to them, through the mass of people.

Quickly making his way over to them, he sighed when he spotted his previously missing band mates, thankful that he could squelch his earlier fear of being abandoned by them. Honestly, Harry did not do well with nervousness. He always turned into a mess.

"Harry, we're just going over the set list one more time, come have a look," the pretty, blond girl replied. He looked her over, the front of her hair pinned up in meticulous swirls, the rest falling in lazy curls against her back. She had on a cream-colored gown that fit her snugly, looking exactly like an old-time dress that you saw in the late 1600's. The skirt portion of the dress, though, was cut much shorter than it was back then. It puffed out, but stopped just above her knees, showing off her thin legs and ballet flats. All in all, it was a very confusing, and over-the-top outfit.

He sat down next to the dark-skinned man on her side, closest to himself, and glanced over at the list. It had the names of the band's songs scribbled on it in the order they were to play them, but Harry chose to examine everyone else's outfits, despite the fact he should have been memorizing the list.

The man next to him was wearing an outfit similar to that of his, and the other blond haired man's. However, his was a navy blue color, and like his, the coat stopped much shorter than Blondie's did. Harry's was a rich red color that seemed incredibly bright in comparison to the blue of this man's, and the green coat that Blondie wore. It was embroidered with a unique bronze design that ran from the collar, down to the waist, and along the cuffs, Harry's being embroidered in gold, while the green coat had a silver trimming. The material was light, he knowing this from the fact that his was made of the same thing, and according to everyone else, this was a good thing. Underneath, they all wore black button-downs, except for the blond who wore dark green.

The three beside him all nodded quickly and began to stand up. Damn it, he completely missed the whole conversation! No helping it now, he supposed, and followed them into the center of the crowded room. He wasn't sure what they were doing, and everyone had suddenly gone quiet, worrying him some. Not noticing the feel of someone's cool hands grabbing his, he gave a yelp when he was yanked forward unexpectedly, his hand being pulled into the pile of hands with everyone else. They were all stacked together, moving slowly up and down, as everyone counted down.

"3, 2, 1, GO!"

And they did.

All at once, everybody bounded out of the room with an incredible amount of energy that Harry wished he had a fraction of. Harry was one of the last people out of the room, and when he realized where everyone was headed, he stopped at once.

He couldn't do this.

He wasn't made for going on stage in front of Heaven's knows how many people.

Harry was already formulating an escape plan in his head, when he was shaken roughly. Unfortunately for him, Blondie was right behind him, and seemed upset for the sudden stop. Harry looked at him, his eyes wide and frantic, and the other man's sour expression turned into one of amusement.

"You're not afraid of being on stage, Potter, are you?" The voice drawled out in a tone that was both teasing and worried at the same time.

"Of course not," he snapped back, furrowing his brows. Actually, he was afraid. He had been known to suffer from stage fright on several occasions, but normally he got over it quickly. Although, his stage fright was never this intense, because he never went on stage in front of so many people who were just waiting to boo at him and throw vegetables.

"I think you are," the blond man grinned as he crossed his arms in a superior manner over his chest. "Perhaps I was right, and you weren't cut out for this after all. Maybe you should just go back home, we can find a replacement in no time."

Harry wanted to smack the smug look off of that pale face. He refrained, regretfully. It would do no good to have a row right before a performance, especially not with a band mate.

But he needed to think of something, anything, to make his frantic behavior plausible. What could he say though?

"I'm just, er," he stuttered, before he had even thought of a believable lie. Had food poisoning? No, maybe he could say he had been groped by some old man and had been spooked since. That was highly unlikely, and would cause a bigger mess. Perhaps announcing a fear of spiders would remedy the situation. But then he'd be teased about that. Quickly, he just blurted out the next phobia he could think of, when the pale pink lips parted to no doubt insult him. "I'm Claustrophobic!"

Several people turned to stare after his sudden proclamation. Ducking his head, he didn't get to see the unbelieving look on the blond's face as he arched one of those delicate looking eyebrows.

"Claustrophobic? Well then, we'll just have to make sure we don't stick you in anymore tight, enclosed spaces. Now Potter, since you're not afraid of that terrifying looking stage over there, you better get a move on. You're holding us up."

He glanced behind him to notice that there were a few more people behind them who were watching with impatience. Quickly, he headed towards the, indeed, terrifying stage. Gulping dramatically, he marched off onto his doom with the rest of them.

Making sure to stare at the floor the entire time, he halfheartedly lifted his hand to high-five the people offering encouragement to everyone along the way. A lot of good their words would do him now, he thought bitterly. Thankfully for him, he noticed that the stage curtain was closed. Heaving a big sigh of relief, he headed to the other side of the stage where more people were waiting. One person was holding out his bass for him, and he grabbed it eagerly, slipping the strap over his head to rest comfortably on his shoulder.

Though the young man who handed it to him assured him that everything was tuned and in working order, Harry hardly believed him, and plucked a string for himself as he went back to the area he was supposedly assigned to. He was startled at the deafening screams coming from the other side of the curtain.

Glancing back, he noticed the dark haired man was taking place atop the stand that held up the drum set. To his left was the blond girl, another man handing her a guitar. She noticed Harry staring, and gave him a wide smile, before she plucked a string of her own. If possible, the screaming got louder, and Harry's eyes widened. How many people were out there?

He was grateful that they had earpieces, and he understood exactly why they needed them now. Admittedly, he had been skeptical when they told him that he wouldn't be able to hear his own bass when he played, but realizing now just how loud the people on the other side of the curtain were, it made sense.

He couldn't really call them fans, though, at least not yet. They were fans of The Serpentines, certainly, but not of him, not Harry. Hopefully that would change, and he would be accepted. He didn't get much time to dwell on that thought, though, because the curtain began to shift, and open sideways.

A feeling of dread quickly washed over Harry, and his stomach dropped significantly lower than it should of, he was sure. He faintly recalled the fact that he was supposed to be strumming some sort of chord until they started their first song. Something like C minor, or D major, he couldn't remember. He couldn't really remember anything but the drummer behind him and the guitarist to his left frowning at him. Oh, and the hordes of screaming people jumping up and down staring at him expectantly.

Fear was claiming him, and as he gazed out along the crowd of hundreds—or were there thousands?—all Harry could think was, "Well, say goodbye to your music career, Harry."

Please review and let me know what you think! :)