The pulsing lights are brighter than I thought they'd be. Blue light dances across Ron's freckled face and switches from blue to green to purple and back again. The lights are almost living, the way they move. I look into the throng of enthusiastic bodies. It was almost too easy for us to get into this club, underage though we are. Ron grins and grabs my hand. He leans in.
"Dance with me!" he says loudly.
"Why?" I ask.
The noise level isn't so bad away from the dance floor. Some invented charm, which is part of the reason this club is so popular. Ron laughs.
"Why come to a club if you aren't going to dance, Harry?" he asks.
I shrug and he pulls me into the crowd. Wizards peek over their dance partners' shoulders to watch me greedily. I smile as I allow Ron to lead me away. Most everyone is wearing Muggle clothes; purebloods, half-bloods, and muggleborns alike. I suppose it is easier to dance in them. We must reach a spot Ron likes because he stops and closes his eyes. He takes a breath, opens them, and starts to dance. I smile and rock my hips to the beat. He slips his hand down to meet them.
"They're all watching you," Ron says in my ear.
"Let them!" I yell back.
The music washes over us, erasing the crowd and bringing us closer. Six songs later I drag Ron off the floor and to a table.
"How many different articles do you think we'll have in the Prophet tomorrow?" Ron asks.
"'Potter Bent?' 'Boy Wonder Spends the Night in Gay Club!' 'Chosen One and-' have they given you a nickname? " I ask.
He shrugs.
"Whatever, we're having fun, we aren't cooped up in that house cleaning and being babied by your mother, everything is good," I say.
"You do have a point," he says.
"I have several," I say.
Ron walks to the bar while I lounge in my chair and look at the tortured faces of the men clearly forced here by their friends. One notices me looking and smiles. I smile back. He walks over to me, clearly encouraged.
"Hello there," he says.
"Hi," I say.
He sits in Ron's chair.
"Harry Potter, aren't you? What're you doing alone?" he asks.
"Oh, I'm with my best mate. He's just there," I say, pointing.
The man nods, clearly appraising Ron.
"I'm Gavriel," he says.
"Why are you by yourself, Gavriel?" I ask.
"My friends, a couple, they brought me here to 'get out more'," Gavriel says.
I make a sympathetic noise.
"It's not really getting out, though. Take me to a library, sure. That's out. But a club? I'm not much for dancing," he says.
Ron comes over balancing two plates.
"Food!" I say happily.
Ron looks at Gavriel.
"Who's this?" he asks.
I grab a plate and pick up a fry.
"Gavriel," I say.
I pop it into my mouth. Ron tips his head up. Gavriel stands, gives a small nod, and walks off.
Ron rushes to grab our Butterbeers from the impatient looking witch watching over them. I roll my eyes and cram a fry in my mouth.
"Thanks for the food, Ron," I say.
He nods.
"He was really nice," I say.
"He really wanted into those pants of yours," he smirks.
"What? No, that's not it," I say.
He swallows.
"Trust me," he says, "though he'd have had some time of it, tight as they are."
I laugh and flick him.
"They're not that tight," I say.
"Harry, they're sinful," Ron says.
"Hermione got these for me," I say.
Ron raises an eyebrow and sips his drink. We eat in silence. I look down. Sure, my jeans are tight but I don't think they're sinful. They compliment my silvery shirt. I tug it down.
"You look fine, mate," Ron says.
I mumble a response.
"Don't you know, sin is in? Let's go before Mum wakes up," he says.
"One more dance," I plead.
I can feel the eyes on my ass as I lead Ron back to the floor. I don't turn to face him, just move. Ron loops his fingers through my belt loops and grinds against me. The music ends and we tumble into the Floo.
"That was fun," I say.
Ron smirks. We climb the stairs to our room.
"The food was good," he says.
We climb into our beds and turn off the light.
"Let's go again. I'll die if all the fun all the fun we have is doxy hunting and cobwebs," I say.
I kick off my jeans under the covers. I admit, it is a bit difficult.
"You just want to see that guy again," Ron grumbles.
"What's the harm in that?" I ask.
Ron doesn't say anything. I stare at the ceiling.
"Let's go tomorrow," he says.
I smile and close my eyes.