What was it about clubs that they had to be smoky? Harry snorted as he threw back his shot of vodka, inhaling the scent of smoke and sex that permeated the club in the brief moment before the liquid slipped down his throat. Was it to mask people's ugliness from others until it was too late? Provide anonymity for those who didn't want their friends and family to know of their dirty secrets?
Like it really mattered after enough drinks.
Harry sat in the back, on his sofa. It actually was his. He'd bought it for the club, and his name was carved into it. It also had a Noice-Me-Not spell magiced into the fabric, allowing him to watch without being watched. He liked that. He liked feeling like the predator for once and not the prey.
Green eyes roamed over the sea of writhing, twitching bodies, doing a dance as old as time. It was one Harry knew as well, although he played a much deadlier game, based solely on his pleasure rather than his partners.
Absentmindedly, he rubbed his thumb over the smooth blade concealed in his right sleeve. It was both a soothing and exciting motion. When distressed, he'd rub his knife (conveniently named Nerezza- darkness, how funny was that for a blade that brought so much light into his life?) to remind him of the power he could wield. But in situations like this, he rubbed his knife to remind him of what yet to come.
One in particular had caught his gaze tonight. A blond he knew, shockingly. You didn't see many wizards in a muggle club. But Harry wasn't complaining. It would just make him easier to obtain.
He stood, walking to the bar to get another shot. Tapping two fingers was all it took to get him his usual shot of vodka. Settling back with elbows on the flat wooden surface, he continued to watch the blond, who was currently the object of much lust with the others. But lust wasn't what Harry felt for him. No, all he felt was excitement. Tonight, he'd truly feel his ambrosia. That was what made his blood boil.
It took ten minutes for Malfoy to notice him, but Harry didn't mind. He enjoyed the chase, enjoyed stalking his prey without them knowing. A smile graced his lips, but it could not be classified as happy, or any variation thereof. No, it was a smile that plainly said "You are mine. I will let you have your fun for now, but you are mine."
If Malfoy received that message, well, Harry would wait and see. His prey was allowed to do what it willed within this room, but if he were to leave, he'd be taken down. Hopefully Malfoy tried to leave.
And there he went. Harry watched with a vaguely amused gaze as his quarry pushed through the crowd. Throwing his shot back, he set the glass on the bar and ambled toward the door.
"Going somewhere Malfoy?" he drawled and the blond man froze with his hand on the handle.
"Potter." He turned around slowly, grey eyes masking his fear, but Harry could practically smell it coming off him. God did he smell delicious. Taking a deep breath, Harry stepped closer, causing Malfoy to step back. A smirk formed on his lips and he backed the taller man into a corner.
"Poor pet, so afraid," he murmured, stroking the back of his fingers down Malfoy's cheek.
The other man reared back as if struck, but there was nowhere for him to go. He was trapped. Harry licked his lips happily.
Grey eyes rolled in their sockets. If the git weren't so pointy, he'd look like a frightened horse. "W-what do you want Potter?"
Oh, stuttering already? This was going to be fun. Most of his prey didn't start stuttering until he'd pulled out Nerezza.
He leaned forward and rubbed his nose along Malfoy's jaw, savoring the scent of fear and his own unique scent. "Don't you know?"
"Tell me anyway."
In a movement too quick for the other man to stop, Harry reached up and tangled a hand in blond locks, pulling his head down sharply into a bruising kiss. It was a mash of lips, and Harry bit into Malfoy's lip hard enough to draw blood. The other didn't fight back, merely accepted what was offered and gave all he had. Harry pulled back and licked the blood off his lips and teeth.
"Come pet, we have games to play," he whispered and turned, knowing Malfoy would follow. What other choice did he have?
Harry walked back to his couch and lounged against it, beckoning the other man to him. When he didn't comply, Harry growled and grabbed his wrists, rolling until Malfoy was underneath him. A terrified gasp just succeeded in turning him on, and Harry ground down against Malfoy's hips, getting harder at the rough friction.
"Please…" Malfoy begged, pushing weakly at Harry's chest.
"Please what pet? Please fuck you into this sofa, in front of the whole club? That will be my pleasure."
He placed bruising bites across Malfoy's neck, making a guideline for himself later. He pulled back, satisfied with his work, and began stroking Malfoy through his trousers. At the other's high pitch whine and a buck of his hips, Harry sat up and waved his wand, divesting Malfoy of his clothes.
He allowed no room for modesty, pinning Malfoy's arms down with his own. "Hush pet, hush."
They frotted together, cloth against bare skin, until both were hard enough to drive a nail. Harry sat back on Malfoy's thighs, and opened his trousers. He waved his wand and Malfoy gasped underneath him- there was a strange tingle that occurred because of the lubrication spell- and without further ado, thrust inside.
Malfoy screamed, a delightful sound that just succeeded in turning him on further. Harry pounded into his prey, and reached to stroke him as well. Tonight was finally going to be the night, he knew, that he'd achieve what he'd wanted for so long.
"Yes, yes, yes!" was chanted from beneath him, and Harry knew the other man was close. Silently he slipped Nerezza into his hand, feeling the comfortable slide and sensing the knife's excitement to be embedded in flesh.
The moment when Malfoy felt the cold metal press into his flesh was the same moment he came. Harry thought he'd remember the look in those grey eyes forever- a mixture of fear, desire and ecstasy. So beautiful, so pretty.
Blood and semen splattered the pale body, and Harry came as he watched the light go out of Malfoy's eyes, watched his throat work to breath, but only succeeding in drowning himself in his own blood. If there were any real work of art, it was this.
Standing, Harry caressed the blond hair once before righting his trousers and cleaning Nerezza on his trousers before slipping her back up his sleeve. Without looking back at the body on the couch, he slipped easily through the crowd and out the door, back home to where his wife and children were sleeping.