Midnight Roller-Coaster.
Part One.
Twoshot/Slash/Drarry/Profanity/PostWar/Pre-EpilogueAU/Cracky/SlightlyOOC
A/N; Don't expect any slash yet; that's for part two, ladies and gents! Soo I suppose if you oppose slash, you can read this bit with only the slightest uncomfortable, homophobic twich. But I advise you stay away from part-two..hah! Actually, bugger off completely if you're a homophobe! SHOO! Away from my gay-friendly profle!
Enjoy!
...
There's something familiar about the bloke sitting across from me.
He's got that sneer. That sneer I know like the back of my hand. That sneer that I spent a whole year watching.
Draco Malfoy, or a man that has a painful resemblance to Draco Malfoy, is directing that infamous sneer at me from across the table.
"Uhhh.." I gesture vaguely for him to introduce himself, losing my nerve when his steely eyes narrow even further. My mouth suddenly feels full of cotton and I sit, mute, staring at my companion.
It was all Hermione's idea really. Said I wasn't getting out enough. Said I needed to pick up my life again. Especially after the sudden and frightening revolution that I'm in fact as bent as a bloody butchers hook. Ginny dropped me like I was hot after our three-year-run and managed to bag a new man in a matter of weeks. I don't blame her. Who'd want to be with someone who wasn't sexually interested in them? Headstrong and straightforward, that woman.
So. Hermione. She bullied me into going to this.. "Singles" night. Or to be specific a "Gay Singles" night. Shoved me headlong into a world I haven't even had five seconds to take in yet. So here I am, sitting across from this man, this Malfoy-lookalike, in a cosy little booth, twiddling my thumbs and 'meeting' new people.
The little bar hosting the "Gay Singles" night is stifling, small and scruffy. It's late on a Saturday, summers night and not one window is open to the cool nights air. I shift uncomfortably in my seat, my cotton jumper clinging uncomfortably to my chest and arms in the sticky heat.
"So…" I encourage, daring to look into the familiar and glaring face of my 'date'. He gives me another look, the 'are you that fucking stupid?' look. A mix of fury and shock.
"Potter you idiot! What the fuck are you doing here?" He snarls, his hands curling into fists on the table top.
"The same as you I guess! Who are you and how in Merlin's name do you know who I am already?" If anything he looks even moreangry at my response. He reaches up to pinch his nose and scrunches his eyes closed.
"Everyone knows who you are! Scarhead, do you even recognise me?!" He splays his hands about his sides and waves them wildly, gesturing to himself.
Scarhead…? No one else has ever called me that except for…. That sneaky ferret!
"Malfoy!" I exclaim loudly. I watch him slam his hands down onto the table and resume his glare.
"Bravo! Ten points to Gryffindor!"
"Why..what the hell did you do to your hair!?" His hair is a scruffy mop of dark brown. Not unlike my own, actually. I raise an eyebrow and he looks off to a far corner, an angry huff escaping him.
"A disguise, I'll have you know. I am easily recognisable with my natural hair and I don't take kindly to being hexed on a night out, thankyouverymuch." His eyes narrow until I can only make out slits of grey-blue. I start to contemplate the startling colour for a while before I come to a shockingly slow and explosive conclusion.
"You're gay!?" I blurt loudly before clapping my mouth shut. Greyish-blue snaps to me, flashing with anger.
"Oh, shout it out to the whole world, Potter!"
"Well, you are at a Gay Sing-"
"Don't point out the obvious!"
"Well you are!"
"WHO GIVES A FUCK?"
"Well, obviously you do otherwise you wouldn't be here!"
"Oh, fuck off Potter!"
"What's your fucking problem Malfoy!?"
"YOU ARE MY PROBLEM!"
I swallow against the retort bubbling up my throat and settle for staring down my nose at the prat. Cheeky little- coming over here, invading my personal space then getting angry at me for nothing. I was glad to see the back of that white-blonde head and I'll be glad to see the back of this scruffy brown one, too.
"Jog on, Malfoy." I sit back into the cushioned booth, pick up my pint and watch him over the rim. The anger melts off of his pointy face and he looks taken aback. He mirrors my posture; a gesture of surrender I suppose, leaning back stiffly and picking up a glass of what looks like Martini.
"No."
"What? Why? Ten seconds ago you looked ready to rip my bloody head off!"
"Not exactly. I was merely shocked. Didn't expect to see you here of all places." He intones awkwardly. His temple is ticking dangerously and it looks as though it's taking every inch of his resolve to talk civilly with me.
History in the making!
Silence falls between us and I begin to feel uncomfortable again. His eyes are unflinchingly staring at my face; completely opposing his fidgeting hands.
"So…" I repeat, in hope of some kind of conversation to pass the time. His stare seems to falter and he lets out another huff.
"Why are you here?" comes the stiff reply. I dare a look at his face and address him slowly.
"Well.. Hermione.. you probably know by now.. it's all over the papers.."
"I dare say I do." Malfoy utters into his Martini glass before taking a sip. His face relaxes slightly.
"Hermione said it'd be good for me. To get out and meet… and meet.. you know." He nods shortly in ascent in agreement before taking another sip of the drink, although this time it's more of a gulp.
"Ah. Always the pushy little witch wasn't she, old Granger."
"It's Mrs Weasley to you." I say in a deadpan voice, shooting my best scowl at the little ferret.
"Tied the knot! Oh my, more little Weasleys on the way?" I can hear the feigned interest in his voice.
Is this little prat worth my time?
"She's pregnant with a baby girl. But how is that any of your business, Malfoy?" I grate out and his eyes widen slightly.
"Didn't mean to offend, Potter. Merely... curious. That school will never be free of Weasley children, will it?" He preens, his eyes taking on a sadistic gleam.
"Shove off Malfoy! If you're going to be the world's biggest prat, then I'd rather sit on my own for the next half hour!" I cross my arms tightly over my chest and stare resolutely over his head. That pretentious, sarcastic waste of space! I drop my stare to look around desperately at the room. Everyone else is settled into their booths; heads together and getting to know one another for the allotted time before the next switch around.
I hate this 'speed dating' crap. I've talked to so many people I can't remember half of their names let alone the bloody things we talked about.
My gaze is pulled back towards my booth-mate when I hear a shaky-sounding sigh.
He looks weary. Tired. Fed up of life in general. He catches my gaze and his eyes actually look remorseful. It's probably a trick of the light. But something about his general demeanour sparks my next question.
"Why are you here?"
For a moment it looks as if he's going to just ignore me; he picks up his glass once again and swills the liquid around for a few moments, considering it. Suddenly he looks resolute and brings the glass to his lips and downs the whole thing in one. Liquid confidence?
"Because I'm fed up of being alone, Potter." He meets my eyes. They look.. they look miserable.
We continue to stare into each other's eyes; my green meeting his grey. The hubbub in the bar recedes to a murmur in my ears as Malfoy's features unconsciously open up to my scrutiny; nerves, anxiety, sadness; written there as plainly as the stars lighting the black sky through the nearest window.
My school-time enemy. The bane of my childhood years. Draco Malfoy. Opening up to me, Harry Potter, in some dingy bar in the middle of London.
"You've got it easy; everyone loves you. People will fall over their fucking feet just to be with you. Everyone in this place is dying to talk to you.. but I've got to come out in a fucking disguise just in case someone decides it would be funny attack me with a stinging hex. I'm lonely Potter. No one wants to fucking know. No one has so much as looked at me since the war."
My head hurts. One minute Malfoy was angry, then calm, the next sarcastic and scathing.. now he's sad and straight up confessing his deepest feelings…all of this in the past ten minutes.
This man is giving me whiplash.
"Uhh… well… I'm looking at you?" I don't realize how stupid that sounds before it's out of my mouth and I gawp at my own idiocy. I watch as Malfoys emotional shutters go into lock down and his cheeks turn a blotchy red.
"YOU KNOW THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEAN! " Anger takes precedence once again and I blink at the force in which it's delivered this time.
Oh shit.
"Ah, fuck, I didn't mean- "
"Fucking forget it, Potter!" He sends a sneer deadly enough to kill a small rodent my way before standing up from behind the table.
The oddest urge over-takes me, then, and before I can register what I'm actually doing, I practically dive across the table and catch hold of his skinny, milky wrist.
He looks back at me, confusion lighting his eyes.
"I- Look.. I'm sorry..." I stammer, not all too sure why I'm saying it at all. This man has been a complete arse to me my whole life. I let go of his wrist and slump back into my chair. My fingers are.. tingling. Tingling from touching his soft skin. Am I out of my mind?
I hear him sit down opposite me and look up to see him staring at me carefully. His eyes are looking right through me.
The resemblance of the stare to a certain late-headmaster sends a chill down my spine.
"I didn't mean that like it came out…" I murmur, grasping my pint and taking a huge gulp. He continues to stare at me. It's unnerving..
It's as if he's had a sudden revelation…
He seems to stay like that for a while. Staring. Calcutaing. Assessing. I begin to fidget.
Creepy bastard.
He only looks away from me to answer a bartender who'd apparently materialized from thin air. He orders a double shot of firewhiskey. The women turns to look at me expectantly. I shake my head and she leaves the table briskly.
"So.. yeah.." I start; This staring game is wearing me thin.
"Look. Do you want to head somewhere else? Have drink in the Leaky Cauldron? This place is claustrophobic and I've got as much luck meeting someone here as a squib casting a patronus charm."
He's suddenly found his finger nails very interesting as I take in the immensity of his proposal.
Did Malfoy just ask me out for a drink?
"Wait. What?!" I splutter.
"Me. You. Drink. The Leaky." He continues looking at his very-interesting finger nails, but I can see the sardonic arch in his shapely eyebrow.
"Well.. I.. but.. Malfoy, are we even on speaking terms? This hasn't been the most peaceful of reunions, not that I expected any less but..." He looks at me again, this time looking slightly bemused. How can someone possibly go through so many emotions in the space of thirty seconds without exploding?
"Let me get this straight. I didn't expect to see you here tonight; you cut me short. I was shocked. But the past.. the past is dead and buried.. I just thought we could at least try... That I could at least try…. Oh fuck, you know what I'm trying to say!" Comes the forced reply.
"Try and make a fresh start? Try and make amends? Try and be civil?" I encourage, uncertainty creeping into my voice.
"Exactly. I still think you're a twat. But a twat who isn't so terrible these days. A gay twat to boot. We've got that in common at least." He drawls, the bemusement lighting his eyes now.
"Flattering, Malfoy. You sure know how to make friends." I mutter, a small bit of amusement colouring my annoyance.
"Of course."
He drops my stare as the bartender comes back with his double firewhiskey. He raises the glass in a mock salute before downing that, too. He coughs delicately into a closed fist before slamming the glass down onto the table again.
Fair play, Malfoy looks like he knows how to have a good night.
"Ok. Yeah. I'll go for that drink. So far everyone I've met here either wants my signature, or they'd like to take me back to theirs for a cup of tea." I blurt out. No going back now.
Malfoy lets out a derisive snort before standing up from behind his side of the table.
"Some cup of tea. Hot and steamy, but with no resemblance to such a beverage, I'll give you that."
Despite my uncertainty at this volatile, ex-enemy of mine, I let out an abrupt bout of laughter.
"Witty, Malfoy." I manage through the guffawing.
I cut myself off with an awkward cough and look up to see him looking right through me again. Reading my very thoughts. I test the theory by calling him a prick loudly in my head. He merely continues to stare.
Well, that's a relief.
I watch as he pulls a wallet out and throws a few notes onto the table. I pull out a few Galleons from my jeans and toss them down onto the table too and stand up, looking around cautiously at the other Wizards littering the bar, looking for a quiet exit.
Malfoy moves completely out from the table before gesturing impatiently at me with a wave of his hand.
"Move it then, Potter."
"Yeah yeah. I'm coming." I down the rest of my pint of ale in one and place the glass back onto the table top. He nods demurely at me and I roll my eyes as he marches off across the small room towards the front door.
Eyes follow my steps as I make my way after him. I pick up echoes of my name from every corner of the room. I turn to look at a random booth in general and the occupants look angry and upset. Both men continue to stare as I make it to the door and pull it open to a gust of cool, welcoming night air.
"I knew he'd pick the pretty boy. These celebrities wouldn't know personality if it smacked them in the fucking face!"
I turn as the snide sentence reaches my ears; my teeth grinding together. I spot the culprit; a young male bartender standing just over to my right, conversing loudly with two other men at the table closest to him. He turns to me defiantly; his chin upturned, even as his eyes begin to grow wary.
Just as I feel myself begin to retort, an impatient Malfoy suddenly walks back through the doorway.
He promptly grasps my arm in an iron-like grip and sends a nasty sneer at the rooms occupants; a particularly vicious one aimed at the baretender. With one last sweep of the room with his vicious grey eyes, he proceeds to physically drag me out of the door.
I tumble over the threshold and barely stay on my bloody feet as he drops my arm and begins to stride confidently down the street without me, shoulders pushed back with a defiant air of haughty bastard.
"OI! Malfoy!" I shout after him as he begins to shrink away from me into a shadowed side street over the way. I see him whip around impatiently and stare his grey glare at me from the darkness.
"What?! Will you hurry up?!"
He walks swiftly back to me, pulling his wand out as he goes.
"It's not a race, you know- what are you doing?"
Without bothering to answer me, he flicks his wand in front of his own face. The purpose is immediately obvious. His brown hair begins to turn blonde from the root, before his whole head of hair resumes it's natural, white-blonde state of immaculacy.
I stare at the familiar face for a few seconds. I could always pick this face out in a crowd. Not to mention that startling hair colour.
Why am I even giving this man the time of day? Have we all grown up enough to forgive and forget the past? Did the war change us all? Is it ok to forgive people like the Malfoys?
"How come you changed your hair back?" I ask. He turns to stare at me as we both begin to stride, side by side, away from the front of the bar and down the alley Malfoy had just re-emerged from.
"Why, I've got the great Harry Potter protecting me now! No one would dare lay a finger on me!"
I stare blankly at him for a few seconds. A sly smile spreads over his lips; malicious and oh so very.. Slytherin..
I suppose one drink couldn't hurt anyone.
A/N; Okayokayokay. This was originally going to be a oneshot but I've decided to split it into two parts. Breaks it up a little. So it's still kinda oneshot, but with two chappies :D The rest will be up soon, because unlike my other stories, I know where this one is going and I've already got a writing plan for part two! :D Hot, steamy, Drarry action to come! And no, with no such resemblance to a cup of tea. :P
HAPPY SLASHING!
