Another first for me. Never written a Drarry focused piece of work, so don't be shocked if I get some of the facts wrong. I've read plenty of fan fiction on the pairing, but I haven't seen many of the films, or read many of the books. Haha, done a bit of research, so hopefully things will be correct

This idea came to me whilst chatting with a dear friend of mine, who also uploads on this site. If you're a fan of Drarry, I suggest you give her work a go! She writes under the name 'SnowMuncher'. Little shout out to you my dear ;)

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this, and it will not be a one shot, my word on that ;)

Onwards we go people!

When a Dark Lord dies, and returns to wreak havoc and exact his vengeance on the world he feels should be his, and the person who defeated him once before, its effects spread farther than some may assume. Whilst the wars epicentre had been Hogwarts, located in the Scottish Highlands, its ripples had left scars on the magic community worldwide; even now, two, going on three years after, those marks could be seen by all.

The world of wizards and witches had been slowly rebuilding, trying to regain some semblance of what it once was, rebuild what was now gone. The world had celebrated, showering those involved in bringing the war to a close with recognition and praise, whilst the remnants of the Dark Lords army had been summarily trialled and imprisoned. Now, everyone had moved on with their lives, trying their utmost to put the events behind them.

Yet, as is always the case, there are those few who simply cannot, regardless of how hard they try. Millions of distractions could be thrown their way, but in the end, they simply drift from day to day in a haze of pain and sorrow.

War: first, one hopes to win; then one expects the enemy to lose; then, one is satisfied that he too is suffering; in the end, one is surprised that everyone has lost.

xxx

It was close to 12am, and the London streets were still packed to the point of near overpopulation, despite the time and the near torrential rainfall. The seemingly endless stream of human life milled from pub to pub, and then on to the numerous nightclubs that littered London's streets. Everyone had the same thought in mind, drink until they could not drink any more, and then return home to collapse in a boneless heap.

It was with this very intent in mind that a young man with messy black hair, and vibrant green eyes had situated himself at the bar in one of the many nightclubs. The only thing that set this one apart was the wide range of real ales it offered, as well as the standard selections of cocktails and hard liquors.

All around him obnoxious music blared through the multitude of speakers, far louder than was entirely necessary, whilst the strobe lighting pulsating at a nauseating rate; people jostled back and forth, grinding and dancing as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist. Despite this cacophony of activity, the dark haired man remained rooted to the bar stool, head down, paying attention to nothing but the pint glass in his hand. He'd come here to seek escape, and let oblivion claim him, at least for a little while.

And why had he chosen this establishment, out of all the others? Because it had nothing to do with wizards, witches, or magic. It was muggle run, and frequented by muggles; which meant no one knew him, and no one would recognise him. No autographs, no incessant congratulations, no whispered conversations behind his back, no apologies for all he'd lost or sacrificed. Even now, in his semi normal life as an Auror, he could not escape the fame that had hounded him since he was little more than a baby. He loved his job, he truly did, had dreamt of it ever since he'd learned what 'Aurors' were, yet it only seemed to add to the stress he'd been feeling for so many years now, and served as a constant reminder of the past he desperately wanted to escape.

This dark haired man, who sort nothing but peace and escape, was Harry James Potter; saviour of the magic world, the individual who struck the final blow on Voldemort, thus bringing his reign of terror to a final end. Now though, he felt alone, and had come to regret all that had come to pass; the senseless deaths of friends and family, the destruction, the loss of innocence.

xxx

An hour later, Harry was still sitting in the same place, head still lowered, eyes still fixed on the glass that always seemed to be refilled at the most crucial moment, as if by magic. This thought brought a wry smile to his lightly tanned and handsome features, the first of the evening. In this very muggle club, the miraculously endless supply of alcohol could only be put down to the slim blonde woman behind the bar, who'd been eyeing him for most of the evening. She was pretty, dressed in a pair of tight fitting jeans, and a low cut top that seemed to have been designed to gape and show her rather noticeable lack of a bra whenever she bent over the bar surface. However, she was hardly his type. He 'flew for the other team', as one gossip column had once reported; absent any solid proof, of course. He'd made sure to keep details of his personal life as secret as possible; his life had been open to the public for years, and he'd grown tired of it, the simple fact that he preferred the company of men shouldn't matter, and shouldn't be treated as ground breaking news.

But, when you're The Great Harry Potter, the world must know every fucking detail of your life.

The wry smile took on a distinctly bitter note, as his mind briefly drifted to a certain female reporter who'd been a constant source of frustration for a number of years; shaking his head for a brief moment Harry lifted the cold glass to his lips, and sipped the slightly frothed brown liquid. It was a traditional English ale, brewed by muggles, and at this very moment it tasted better than anything the magic community had ever come up with. It was simple, normal...everything he needed for just the one evening.

He returned the glass to the bar surface, and at long last turned his attention to the room, and the multitude of people. They all looked so happy and care free, he felt envious of them and their apparent ability to continue without the world overloading them, or outright beating them into submission.

Attempting to shake this dour mood slightly, Harry cast his eyes over the crowd again, more for lack of anything else to do than actually interest, raking over multicoloured shirts, trousers and then...then his eyes locked onto something, someone. Piercing grey eyes that shone like silver and long blonde hair, a handsome yet sickly pale complexion; Harry could have sworn it was...but that was impossible.

He searched the crowd again with a renewed interest, searching for whoever had caught his eye, for it could not have been who he thought it was, but to no avail. The distinct features had vanished. For the briefest of moments, Harry had thought he'd seen a face he hadn't laid eyes on in a few years, since the war's end; an old school rival.

He was about to turn back to the bar when he felt a cold hand rest itself on his shoulder, and an aristocratic, smug voice almost purred a simple sentence into his ear.

"Hello Potter"

xxx

As soon as those words were uttered, an old sense of annoyance and amusement arose from somewhere deep inside of Harry. These were emotions he'd learned to burry long ago, for the good of everyone, and to make things easier on himself; after all, it did him no good to have the constant desire to break said individuals nose every time he so much as breathed.

He sensed, more than saw the new arrival settle onto the bar stool next to his, the one that had been occupied by countless men and women throughout the night, all of whom eventually left when they realised he would pay them no attention. Harry took a breath, and turned to face the male now sitting at his side.

A pale, angular face softened by the mane of blond hair that encircled it and hung over his shoulders, with the silver eyes he was so certain he'd seen earlier, and apparently he'd not been wrong. The figure was still slender, though the dark trousers and button down shirt were tight enough to show off the toned body beneath.

The blonde haired git, the ferret, the former Death Eater, and in some ways, an unsung hero of the war, not to mention one of its victims. Draco Malfoy.

Harry exhaled slowly, still undecided if this sudden arrival was a good thing or not. They'd never been close, hardly two people who'd share a drink together. He felt strangely nervous, though he knew there'd be little worse than some verbal sparring.

"Hello Malfoy" Simple, not committal.

The blonde gave Harry a sideways glance, a strange smile briefly gracing his thin, pale lips. He raised one almost delicate hand of the bar top, slowly clenching and unclenching his long, elegant fingers, before he lowered his hand. Every move was slow, thought out, as if each single act had been planned out long in advance. But, that was always a trait of his; that natural grace and almost royal demeanour that only those from the richest pureblood families seemed to possess. Of course, it had been drilled into the blonde since he was born; one could hardly expect it to change now.

"As friendly as ever, aren't we Potter. So nice to see time and experience hasn't made you bitter" the words were delivered with the grace and biting sarcasm that had made Malfoy a force to be reckoned with at Hogwarts "So, what do people drink in muggle establishments? I assume there's something more palatable than piss on the menu"

Harry rolled his eyes, apparently he hadn't changed much in the last few years, not that it came as much of a shock. Draco Malfoy was probably still sitting comfortably in Malfoy Manor along with his parents, Lucius and Narcissa. Whilst they had defected towards the end of the war, their pretentious nature seemed to have remained, if the youngest Malfoy was anything to go by. Still an arrogant, bloody minded sod.

"Nice to see you're still the same pretentious bastard you always were" Long ago, Harry had developed the ability to match Malfoy's sarcasm; especially important since the Slytherin had been the resident 'bully' at Hogwarts.

"Malfoy's do not change"

It was a line he'd used often enough, so much so that it almost seemed like a family mantra, and it was delivered in the same superior fashion, with the same slight sneer every single time.

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes, neither entirely knowing what to say. They'd never been close, certainly didn't like each other, yet they were now sitting next to each other at a bar in a night club, familiar with no one but each other. The dark haired male picked his glass up, and offered it to the blonde sitting next to him, hoping to lighten the mood a little.

"Abbot Ale. Try some if you want" A small smile graced his lips at the sceptical look the blonde gave him in return "It's good, honestly"

Malfoy accepted the glass, his cold fingers grazing Harry's in the process; a move that sent small shivers down the black haired male's body. The sensation was strangely enjoyable, and seemed to make his heart beat faster.

"Abbot Ale, you say?" Malfoy swirled the liquid around the glass, and raised one delicate blonde eyebrow as he took a small sniff "This better not kill me Potter"

Harry couldn't help but smirk in response, and chuckle ever so slightly. There was just something strangely comical about the way the blonde held the glass as if it were an offending object, with his pinkie pointing out to the side, and a look somewhere between a sneer and being utterly perplexed.

"Trust me Malfoy, it won't kill you" Harry directed a teasing smirk at the blonde, unable to resist the urge to push his buttons "Might get you pissed if you drink too much though"

"It takes a lot to get me pissed Potter, trust me on that" Steel grey eyes locked directly onto Harry's emerald green ones, Malfoy raised the glass to his lips, and drank slowly and deeply. After a few moments, he set the glass back on the bar top, a fair portion of its contents now missing, and a heavy line of foam forming a moustache over his top lip.

He flexed his fingers again, stretching them out slowly, before forming a fist, one long elegant finger at a time.

"You know Potter, that's not so bad..." Malfoy trailed off, a heavy frown forming on his delicate features "What on earth is that look for?"

The look in question was one of pure amusement on Harry's part, which very quickly became a fit of laughter. Harry laughed until his stomach started to hurt, and all the breath had fled his body. He wiped tears from the corners of his eyes, and looked up at the perplexed expression that dominated the pale features before him. He hadn't laughed like that in a long time, and it turned out to be none other than Draco Malfoy who broke his dour mood.

"What are you laughing at? Potter...damn it you twit, what's so funny?" The look of pure outrage did nothing but evoke more laughter out of him, and continued to render Draco Malfoy somewhat speechless.

"It's just...Oh sweet Merlin Draco..." Another small laugh escaped his rosy lips, before he regained enough control to speak properly "You have a beer foam moustache..."

The blonde male blinked in shock, and raised one of his immaculately groomed hands to his mouth, gentle touching his top lip with his finger tips. When he felt the damp foam line on his top lip he shook his head slightly, and grinned; it was a wide joyous grin which seemed to bring his whole visage alive. Harry couldn't help but feel captivated by that grin, and the way his eyes seemed to sparkle in the dim light; all of which caused him some degree of confusing, given who it concerned.

Draco slowly swiped a finger along his upper lip, wiping away the foam, and brought his finger to his lips. Another slight chuckle escaped him, before he sucked the remnants off his finger, eyes fixed on Harry's green orbs the whole time. The grin took on an almost teasing quality, as he tilted his head to the side, still looking at the dark haired male.

"You know, I don't believe you've ever called me 'Draco' before" he leant towards Harry slightly, tapped a brief rhythm into the wooden surface with his fingers, still looking directly at the dark haired male "Why is that, I wonder?"

"I...uh...don't know?" Harry opened and shut his mouth a few times, unable to interpret the remark. It was true, he'd never used Malfoy's name before, and he couldn't entirely figure out why he just had. Before, he'd always just been Malfoy, or the arrogant prick, the bastard, whatever suited at the time. It was an odd, spur of the moment act that had seemed natural "Um...Sorry about that? You know, for just calling you Malfoy"

Draco chuckled at the response; the sound entirely good humoured and relaxed; a side Harry wasn't used to seeing out of him, had in fact assumed did not exist at all. In fact, if Harry wasn't mistaken, he thought the blonde was being positively friendly.

"I'm joking. Pulling your leg, as I believe the muggles call it" Draco leant in even closer, trying to make it easier to speak over the pulsating music without casting one or two silencing charms "Now tell, Harry, are you going to be buy me a tankard of this Abbot Ale of yours?"

He couldn't help but smile in response. Initially, he'd thought the blonde was the same git he always had been at Hogwarts. Now that he'd had a brief chance to talk with him, Harry couldn't help but feel the other male was different, as if he'd changed for the better. Even more impressive, was the fact that it was Malfoy who'd somehow managed to lift the fog of solitude and depression that clouded his mind every second of every day.

"It's a 'pint' Malfoy, not a tankard" he shook his head, messy black hair moving side to side as if it had a life of its own, smile still present on his lips "We're not in The Leaky Cauldron, remember?"

"Bah, a pox on your 'pints', but I'll have one none the less" Draco snorted in mock annoyance, briefly waving an arm through the air like one used to the finer things in life "And really, call me Draco"

"Draco it is then" For some strange reason, Harry couldn't help but smile at the insistency "Call me Harry, please"

Harry signalled the bartender, and placed he drinks order, still somewhat unsure at how he'd found himself in a nondescript London night club, a muggle one no less, seated with his old school rival. Who didn't seem anywhere near as obnoxious as he recalled; he was actually semi pleasant and making jokes.

It was all very strange.

xxx

Some hours and many more pints later, the pair had migrated to a set of cushioned seats that had become available in a corner. This had proved to be one of the most surreal experiences of Harry's life. A mere few hours ago he'd been trapped in the all encompassing depressive air that seemed to grip him continuously these days, only to find it had vanished, along with the constant feeling of solitude and loneliness. All because of one Draco Malfoy, who'd apparently appeared out of nowhere, in the very same club.

They'd spent the past few hours laughing and talking nonstop, trading tales of mischief at Hogwarts like two old friends. It felt extremely natural, as if they'd really been friends all along, and not bitter rivals bent on making things hell for each other. The music had died down slightly, the thumping beats being replaced by softer, more melodic songs. People began to pair off, slowly dancing to the music, lost in their own individual worlds.

"So, tell me" Draco leant towards Harry, pint glass held delicately in his hand "What does the great Harry Potter do these days?"

Harry smirked, in spite of himself, at the slight sarcasm. Maybe it was the drink, or maybe it was the loneliness, but there was something about Draco's cutting wit that seemed to make him smile. He took a moment to consider his answer; what exactly did he do with his life at the moment? When his Auror duties were done, he'd sit in his small London flat and brood, ignore his friends, and study magic; new spells, techniques, anything to make himself better, more efficient, and to keep his mind occupied from the guilt that pressed upon him every day.

In other words, at the tender age of 20, he'd become something of a hermit, all by desire. Of course, there was always Ron and Hermione, but he simply did not feel comfortable around them these days. They'd built a quiet life for themselves, settling into a pleasant house, and apparently enjoying life as a couple. Harry was happy for them, he truly was, but he couldn't help but feel as if he'd been left behind; they'd gone somewhere he simply could not follow them to, not yet at least. As for Ginny, well, things had been a little frosty between them ever since she tried to kiss him and grope him in a corridor once, only for Harry to push her away and rather inarticulately announce he was, in fact, gay.

"Um...Well, I'm an Auror. The Minister offered me a job almost immediately...so I took it" Harry sighed slightly "It's good work, a chance to help people"

"Harry Harry Harry..." Draco smirked over at him, his silver eyes almost dancing with glee, as he tapped a long finger against his chin in, as if in deep thought "How very Gryffindor of you. I wonder, is there a slight hero complex at work here?"

Harry snorted in response, his smile growing wider yet again.

"Shut up you fucking prat" Humour and amusement laced his voice, all of which was reinforced by the grin he directed at the blonde seated next to him.

"You know Harry, I think I'd rather see you try to shut me up" The smirk seemed to have returned full force, as had the superior, almost condescending manner. To any looking in, it would appear that the pair were arguing, though they each knew it was but a simple jest.

Harry was about to retort, when Draco sprang from his cushioned seat, and strode onto the crowded dance floor. As was always the case with the blonde, his steps were graceful, yet purposeful; secretly, Harry had always been slightly envious of his effortless grace, he always felt clumsy when compared to the blonde haired Slytherin. Now, looking at him properly, Harry couldn't help but allow his eyes to travel. Really, Draco was an exceptionally good looking guy; grey eyes that shone like the rarest silver, pale though handsome features and his smile...what Harry had come to learn that evening was that Draco's smile was a thing of rare and refined beauty.

Of course, those characteristics aside, the blonde had a noticeably good body, made more noticeable by the very fitting clothes he'd elected to wear. A dark button down shirt, the top few undone giving just a hint of the pale skin beneath, paired with smart black trousers that clung to his nether regions in a most...distracting fashion. Part of him, the old student part of him, rebelled against the idea of finding Draco Malfoy attractive in the slightest, insisted it was a noting worth vomiting over ; but, the older mature side of him swatted that thought aside, with the argument that Draco was just a man, like any other.

And a damn good looking one at that.

As it turned out, Draco had in fact gone to the dance floor to dance; on the whole, not so shocking, or at least it wouldn't have been if it were someone other than the gold standard of 'pureblood' wizards, and the self crowned Prince of Slytherin.

The moment Draco set foot on the dance floor the quiet reserve he seemed to practise, or the pole that habitually lived up his arse, vanished. It was as if the Slytherin had suddenly come to life, moving his body steadily in time with the music, eyes shut as if from pure ecstasy. Slowly, the sea of people parted before him, as in awe of Draco as Harry was. The moisture in the dark haired man's mouth seemed to vanish, whilst his emerald eyes grew wider and wider; he'd never have imagined the stiff sod capable of something like this.

"Harry" Draco called, crisp voice carrying over the music, over the cheering masses as if they had ceased to exist "This music...what is it? It's surprisingly good for something in a muggle establishment"

Harry shook his head in bewilderment, he still couldn't believe what he was seeing; the blonde was in fact extremely good, and fucking distracting. Harry hadn't touched another male in a long time, and the hip gyrations were becoming extremely distracting. Shaking himself mentally, he fought the urges away as best he could, and tried to focus on answering the question. This was a delicate peace they'd built quickly, and he'd rather not end on a sour note. Of course, the alcohol, and the fact that Draco's sexuality was never easy to identify, simply did not help matters. Males and females alike seemed to throw themselves at Draco's feet with alarming regularity, only to be swatted aside like mere insects; though the Hogwarts rumour mill had insisted that one Draco Malfoy had slept with the vast majority of the student population, gender be damned.

"Um...It's 'We All Sleep Alone', by Cher" a brief smile flicked onto Harry's face, as he remembered stealing his aunt's records when she was out. The woman may have been a vile human being, but her taste in music was good.

Draco smiled wistfully in response, and gave a slight nod, as if that was all he needed to hear. He continued dancing until the songs end, still captivating everyone in the vicinity with his effortless grace and rhythm. When the next song, Heart of Stone by Bucks Fizz blared through the speakers, Draco's movements' changes slightly, just enough to fit the new beat. Within a few moments, he opened his eyes, and fixed them on Harry with an intensity that left the dark haired male breathless, with a strange feeling of sudden paralysis.

Draco's smile turned predatory, as he held his hand out towards Harry, crooking a finger, beckoning him over to the centre of the dance floor, precisely the place Harry did not want to be, yet he found his legs taking him there as if by their own accord. When his legs came to a halt in front of the blonde, he stood stock still, a deep blush rising on his lightly tanned cheeks, entirely clueless as to what he should be doing. Dancing, of any kind, was not his forte, even more so when it left him the centre of attention, which was something he'd come to despise very quickly.

"Um...Dra..Draco.." Harry gulped, found himself unable to speak. His words shot forth in short gasps "I can't dance..."

The blonde laughed in response, the sound warm, and pleasant. He stopped his movements, panting slightly, and looked at Harry.

"Somehow, that does not come as a shock. No doubt you have two left feet, broken ones at that" Draco grinned devilishly, snaked an arm around Harry's waist, and pulled the other boys more built, but shorter frame flush against his own; chest to chest, almost nose to nose "Guess I'll just have to show you, eh Potter"

Draco brought his other hand to Harry's waist, effectively anchoring him in place, and slowly began to move his hips; an action that caused Harry to squawking in shock, and from the effect it was beginning to have on him. Draco's body was still cool after all this time, and this simple fact seemed to set his nerves alight with something akin to pleasure; being so close to him was painful and exciting at the same time. Harry felt himself lean in slightly, bringing their faces ever so slightly closer. He inhaled involuntary, taking in whatever scent the blonde was wearing; it smelled masculine, expensive, sexy.

As if guided by the blonde's strong grip, Harry's hips began to move in tandem, their bodies pressing against each other constantly, causing a sweet friction in just the right places to leave Harry panting. Quickly those sounds became moans of pleasure, when Harry noticed how hard they'd both grown, and how deliciously those erections seemed to rub against each other with each subtle move of the hips.

"That's right Harry, just like that" Draco cooed, head closing the gap between them, lips angling for a...

At that moment, the rational side of Harry's brain kicked in, just enough for him to move his head away slightly, but not enough to stop this erotic dance, that everyone else had began to mimic; all lost in their own worlds, and the eyes of another.

"Draco, what are you..." He was cut off by a sudden and forceful slap to his left arse cheek, and the involuntary gasp he gave as a response.

"Shut up Harry"

With one final smirk, Draco at last closed what little distance remained between them, capturing the Chosen Ones full lips with his own in a dominating kiss.

It only took a matter of seconds for Harry to give in completely; wrapping his arms around Draco's back, almost holding onto the taller man for support, as if his life were dependant on it. Harry groaned into the fierce kiss when he felt Draco's tongue force its way into his mouth, exploring, mapping, whilst long fingers curled in his thick black locks. However, the kiss came to an end all too soon for Harry's liking, a fact that was made evident by the small mewing sound he made when it came to an end. However, a mere second later, he found groans spilling from his mouth yet again when the blonde yanked his head to one side, and began to attack the now exposed and flushed skin with rough nips and kisses; all the while travelling upwards, towards his ear.

When Draco's lips were a mere millimetre away from his ear, he whispered a single line into it, a move that sent shivers down Harry's spine, and sent his mind spinning.

"Your bed...Now" As much seduction as outright dominance, and Harry found himself unable to do anything but submit, giving himself fully to the other male.

After a few muttered words on Harry's part and a half hearted wave of his hand, the pair vanished with a crack, barely audible above the pounding music.

As ever, reviews are good, lets me know how I've done

Sorry about the odd music choices, I'm not really a club goer xD