Chapter 1: Auf Wiedersehen Boy

"The voyeur in me is watching you
The lawyer in me wants to fuck you" - Zeromancer

AVALON

The name of a mystical land of legend shrouded in mystery. It was as true for Harry as it must have been for King Arthur. He stared up at the neon sign that blazed above the brick building. Its steel door was flanked by searchlights moving across the sky, and a queue that went down for blocks stood outside it, monitored by two bouncers.

Harry and Charlie were next up to go in. This is it, Harry thought, rubbing his hands. His first taste of the gay nightlife. Charlie stood next to him in the way a father would about to take his son out for their first hunting trip. That was also true, in a way. Cruising, hunting, same difference.

The bouncer lifted the rope blocking the way to this magical world of wonder and hot blokes, but as excited as Harry was, he budged only when Charlie gave him a nudge forward. They walked in through a hall, lights blinking and the music pounding so loud his whole body seemed to pulse along with the beat. They came out into a room filled with colored stage lights and beautiful men, half of them shirtless, dancing under them. A DJ on a platform played a sensual, electric, futuristic punk rock song.

High on their own narrow platforms dispersed around the room, inside glass tubes, gorgeous Adonises on display, dancing suavely in shimmery tight shorts that hugged their large packages and rode up into the cracks of their gyrating asses. They too were shirtless, their necks covered in long, leather collars and their shapely legs in thigh-length black leather stockings. And they were dancing in fucking steel stilettos. Such amazing talent, Harry thought.

"I've died and gone to Heaven."

His grin split his face from ear to ear and he nearly gravitated towards one of the Adonises, but Charlie laughed and steered him towards the bar. "Drink first!" He yelled over the music. The bar was lined with cuties of all sorts. Tall, slender twinks jutting their hips out and gazing at other men through their lashes, stocky bears wearing leather that accentuated their large assets, lean studs with sexy smirks throwing predatory glances across the room. A few of them blond. Harry had a soft spot for blond hair.

"Two apple martinis," ordered Charlie. Harry looked at him questioningly and was answered with a shrug. "Here you don't have to pretend. They're fucking good and every guy knows it."

Harry laughed. "Fair enough. I'll try it then."

The beat was too good. He started to bounce to it and checked out all the hot men. One twink had glitter all over his naked torso, wore ripped jean shorts and gladiator sandals. He waved his hands up, eyes closed, completely lost in the magic of Avalon. Harry scanned the room further and found a short blond – shorter than most women, dancing with a dark haired stud that kept checking other men out. Well, he deserves better. Maybe I'll take him, Harry thought.

But it was another blond than suddenly bewitched him. One of the Adonises, at the center of the room, with the loveliest face he had ever seen. Fuck the martini, Harry was pulled by a force greater than himself. When he got close, he watched, entranced by the gyrating angel above him. Hair as pale as the moon, clinging to his beautiful, chiseled face. Straight, pointed nose, perfectly marked pink lips, almost like a woman's. His pale lashes were lush and long, hanging seductively low over his big, silver eyes. His body was a work of holy art, tall, lean, milky-white skin glistening with sweat. Strong and youthful.

He looked familiar. Perhaps they had been lovers in a previous life. I must reclaim my destiny, Harry thought with a smirk.

The angel noticed his worshipful gaze, and as he moved his hips seductively low and came back up, he looked straight at Harry through his lashes and gave him a heart-obliterating smile. Abruptly, the smile fell and the angel's eyes flashed with recognition. His suave moves seem to break for a second and a slight, brief frown had appeared between his eyes – which had widened enough for Harry to recognize.

It all happened in a snap and the angel regained his composure, turned away from Harry and danced harder. But that momentary frown was more than familiar – it was imprinted in Harry's mind like a tattoo. It used to accompany a sneer. He gaped up at the angel and cried, "Malfoy!?"

Harry was ignored but that didn't stop him from gawking. No wonder he hadn't recognized him. He'd known Malfoy throughout their teen years: a lanky boy with slicked back hair that looked like plastic and blade-sharp features in a perpetual expression of scorn and disgust like he had dung under his nose. He wasn't attractive then.

This Malfoy, however, had filled out rather nicely. Broad shoulders and well-defined chest, a narrow waist rippling with abs, thick, supple thighs. The sharpness of his features was less knife-like and more elfin, his cheeks were fuller. His hair flew around his face and temples in soft, glimmering waves. The expression on his face was one of relaxed lust and ecstasy – or had been. Now he looked a little tenser, holding on to the illusion that he wanted to be there and did not at all mind being stared at by his former school rival as he objectified himself.

"Harry, there you are," came Charlie's voice from behind. Harry turned and accepted the glass of martini from him in a bit of a stupor. Charlie noticed this and dropped his grin. "What's wrong?"

Harry shook his head and directed Charlie back to the bar. Once there, the red-head prodded him for an answer.

Shaking his head again, still in disbelief, Harry pointed toward the direction of the angel – fallen angel in this case. "See him? The blond gogo boy."

Charlie looked over and nodded, smirking. "Oh, I see."

"That's Draco Malfoy."

Snapping his head towards Harry then back to Malfoy, Charlie exclaimed, "No shit!?"

Indeed, there he was, the god of sex dancing like he'd gone mad with lust, driving the poor mortals below off the edge with him. More men gathered around him than the other gogo boys, sliding in paper bills through a slit in the platform. Now and then Malfoy blessed one of them with a flirty smile.

"Damn," Charlie said and Harry barely heard him over the music. "The little snotty Malfoy heir...he's all grown up that's for sure. He disappeared years ago didn't he?"

Harry nodded, not taking his eyes off Malfoy. His lust for the angel that had bewitched him hadn't faded but the knowledge of who he was did make him feel conflicted about it. It also brought to question: what the hell had Malfoy been up to for three years?

"He's popular isn't he?"

Harry nodded again.

"Come on, let's go watch him."

"What!?"

"What do you mean what? Are you scared?"

"Well...no. But he's Malfoy!"

Charlie stared at him with a look that said: "so what?" "Then you stay. You're the one that has a history with him. You don't mind if I throw him a little muggle paper, do you?" Without waiting for an answer, he walked off with his drink, heading straight for Malfoy.

Of course, Harry wasn't going to stay and watch Charlie watch Draco Malfoy, who was dressed in the sexiest outfit he'd ever seen while shaking his ass on display for the lust-filled gaze of other men. He was going to join in the lust-filled gazing, naturally. Harry hurried after Charlie.

If Malfoy noticed Harry's return and the Weasley in the midst of cheering, dancing men, he didn't show it. And boy he could dance. Currently, he was facing away from Harry who noticed with appreciation that his shimmery black shorts covered only half of the pert mounds of his ass. His legs were long enough already but they seemed to go on for miles in those heels and stockings. Harry could see the muscles working beneath what little he wore and so entranced was he that when the beat dropped and Malfoy suddenly bent is body forward, arching his body like a bow, before coming back up, Harry dropped his jaw, mind completely blown as all of his blood seemed to rush south.

Having been positioned right behind Malfoy, at an angle below him, he saw everything. His ass, his crack – which the cloth of the shorts dipped into (he might as well have painted his naked ass), the huge bulge peeking from between his spread legs. The snake tattoo on the inside of his thigh, right under his perineum. In fact, he was so shocked that his first thought was parental: Did Mr. and Mrs. Mafloy know what their son was up to? And then Harry blinked and realized he just thought that.

He looked over at Charlie who was grinning from ear to ear, dancing to the beat, holding his drink up while watching Malfoy. One of the men in the group gathered around the blond dancer – handsome, olive-skinned, deep hazel eyes – said something into Charlie's ear, who laughed and nodded, both watching Malfoy. The man said something else and Charlie turned around and led the man further away, where they danced much closer together, sliding their hands down each other's torsos.

Damn it. This was supposed to be my debut, Harry thought. Now Malfoy ruined it! He couldn't stop watching him as easily as Charlie had, couldn't stop thinking about him. Images flashed in his mind: a little blond boy in Madam Malkin's, snobbishly trying to impress him; a pre-teen laughing at his painful experiences; a pointed nose before a foot came down on Harry and broke his nose; an angry, sharp face as he accused Harry of sending his father to Azkaban; that same face crying in front of a mirror before swerving around and turning wrathful; a scared, skinny boy lowering his wand; trembling arms clinging around his waist as Harry flew for his and Malfoy's life to escape Fiendfire; a worn, gray-skinned youth with hollow cheeks standing silently as he was judged. Suddenly, through the haze of lust, Harry felt something more real, more intense twist in his gut.

Why is Malfoy here? he wondered. With that in mind, Harry made a decision to find out.