AN: Hm, trigger words… Well, there are strippers, drug use, and some slightly non-consensual lap dances. Not really sure how to categorize that. Also, yes, the Gillyweed idea originates in the Shoebox Project. If you are about to read this and have not yet read SBP, then you need to go Google it right this instant and soak in its glory. Thanks again for the views, favorites, kudos(es?), reviews, and everything! You've all made my search history an unsavory nightmare, and for that, I thank you with all of my heart.
Chapter 37: Last Adventures With Lost Boys
"Alright! Say your goodbyes," Ginny told the couple in their flat, surrounded by family and friends. "The next time you see each other will be when you're walking up the aisle together."
Draco gave Harry a reassuring look, since the Gryffindor rather ironically looked like a stag caught in headlights. When that look didn't prove to be enough, he reached out to give Harry's hand a squeeze. "Please don't look so miserable."
"They're getting me strippers, Draco. Strippers," Harry said a little mournfully, stepping close enough to his Draco to rest their heads together.
"And you will enjoy it," Draco commanded and gave Harry a little poke in the ribs. "Because this is the only arse you'll be getting for the rest of your damned life." The crowd in their living room laughed.
Harry was still apprehensive. Mostly because Draco's arse was the only one that he wanted for the rest of his damned life. "I love you," he told him.
Tucking a stray wisp of hair behind Harry's ear, Draco let out a happy sigh. "And I love you, dear." He gave him a kiss. Most likely, it was their last kiss until the one during their wedding that Draco had promised to dip him during. "Now go enjoy yourself."
Harry had a terrible feeling that his advice wouldn't work out so well. Even so, their respective bachelor parties exited the flat with laughter echoing off the hallway walls and turning two different directions when they reached the street.
xxxxXXXXxxxx
There was nothing like a pack of Slytherins to make Draco feel like he was on top of the world. He was the head dragon in their pack, and even the phrase 'Alpha Male' came to mind.
After all, the other men walking slightly behind him were content with staying that way. Blaise was looking forward to drinking too much to care, Greg was trying not to feel nervous about being let loose in a gay club, and Theo had his Deep In Thought Face on.
The only two who gave Draco a run for his money were his groomsmaids. Maggie and Pansy had dressed to the nines in skin-tight dresses and heels. Even though Maggie stumbled from the height of the shoes every so often, she wasn't entirely lost in them. Her blood-red lipstick even matched her hair, leading Draco to suspect that her girlfriend had dressed her that night.
Pansy, of course, was in her signature little black dress. Black for mourning the end of Draco's single life, she had said. The red lipstick mark on her neck was left entirely unaddressed, but Draco had also assumed that all this talk of being 'single' had Maggie marking her territory. He should have left Harry with some hickeys.
"So, what's the plan?" he asked, turning to Pansy.
The night breeze picked up her hair and let it fly behind her as she walked. Well, 'strutted' was probably a better word choice. "First, we have a little gift to give you," Greg cut in, handing Draco a pink paper bag.
Hardly even balking, Draco wrestled it open while walking to find mardi gras beads galore. Each of the bachelor party guests swiped them up until there was one remaining, in a very special design. "Wow, guys," Draco said, looking down into the bag. "Just when I thought you couldn't be any more mature."
"Quit snarking and put it on," Maggie told him with a wide grin.
Somehow, the beige beads in the bag had been strung together in a way that most definitely resembled a penis. There was thankfully a place for Draco to put his neck, so it was draped over his black shirt. "I feel immediately classier."
"Did we get it close to size?" Theo teased, giving him a pinch in the arm.
"It's a bit small," Draco joked back, used to their humiliating sense of humor. It was a good thing that near nothing embarrassed him anymore.
The group around him laughed, and then Greg drew out another pink bag. Draco was getting worried. This time, fortunately, it was the cheap muggle party goods that Pansy enjoyed making fun of so much. Blaise put a light-up breast-shaped ring on every finger while Draco called dibs on the strange-looking rubber bands with the words 'bachelor on the loose' in bright pink along the sides.
"We look fantastic," Theo decided, clipping together another glow stick necklace.
"When don't we?" Blaise asked with a smirk.
Greg was about to squeeze in a 'never' when Pansy let out a happy squeal. "Here we are!"
Draco followed the direction that her finger was pointing towards. In reality, he heard the thump of the music before he saw the building. But when he saw it, he couldn't look away. Neon lights were everywhere, with decorative strings of light draped along the sides. One particular neon purple sign read: 'XXX Hot Naked Guys!' and the one next to it read: 'All Gay All Night!'.
The line to get in wasn't a concern for them like it was for most people. But what Draco figured out from walking past the men and stray women in line, it was a club called 'Bliss'. The building used to be a warehouse, transformed into, in the words of one man on the line, 'a pleasure palace'.
When their gang reached the front of the line, all Pansy had to do was flash her ID in front of the bouncer. "Ah, Ms. Parkinson," he said with an easy smile, his coffee-stained teeth showing through. "You and your party are our special guests tonight. Where's the groom?"
"Here!" they cried, all pointing to Draco.
Traitors, he thought to himself without any bitterness.
The wiry man opened the door for Draco and motioned inside. "I'll escort you to your private party room, ladies and gentlemen. And remember, what happens at Bliss, stays at Bliss."
xxxxXXXXxxxx
At least they've taken me somewhere halfway decent, Harry thought to himself, firewhiskey in hand. The bar had a rowdy-enough dance floor, but it wasn't like any of those glitter-drenched places that Draco was always dragging him to. However, the knowledge that Ron was off somewhere planning Harry 'sexy surprise', as he had called it earlier, was making him strangely excited.
So far, the craziest thing that had happened was Ron presenting Harry with a bride-to-be tiara. Harry had put it on with pride. "I think it suits me."
"It really does," Ginny told him. "You're a princess, Harry!"
For some reason, that reminded him of what Hagrid had told him back when he lived with the Dursleys. This was much more effeminate and teasing, but Harry was comfortable enough in his sexuality to simply not care. In heels or in a suit, he was a man's man. "Thank you, Duchess Ginevra," he said formally with a little bow on his bar stool.
The Quidditch-roughened woman laughed, and Harry was glad. "Any time," she told him. "Now, you best down that drink."
"How come?"
"Because my brother is about to come out of the back room with a little something for you," Ginny let slip, the alcohol having loosened her tongue. "Wouldn't want you to drop your glass while a guy bumps and grinds it all over you. You know what a mess that can make."
Harry shook his head, but found himself smiling nonetheless. It was a rite of passage, in all honesty. Draco had practically given him permission to go wild, so why not? The Ex-King of London Gay Nightlife probably had a man on his arm right now. The intoxicated logic made perfect sense at the time, and Harry gave Ginny his best game face. "Bring it on."
"Oh, Ron's been planning this for a long while," she warned him. "You hardly know what you're in for."
"It won't be that wild," Hermione said from her seat next to Ginny. At least Hermione hoped it wouldn't get that wild. "We're supposed to be celebrating the next step in Harry's life, not showering him in sex."
For Hermione to be using the phrase 'showering him in sex', Harry needed to be much, much more drunk. He finished off the firewhiskey bottle as Ginny had instructed, only to hear a crackle as the loudspeaker of the building came on.
"Now, I'm told," said the man's voice. "That we have a bachelor party in the house tonight!" The crowd from the dance floor and booths let out a wild shout as the rainbow lights came on, swishing around the room like search lights.
Finally, they had found their target, all landing on Harry at once. He reached up to cover his glasses from reflecting the light, which was his first mistake. The momentary blindness distracted him from what the man was saying over the loudspeaker. "Ladies and gentlemen, now ready to shake it for the groom-to-be, is our Thunder From Down Under here at Hunk-O-Mania, the one, the only, Loooong John!"
Harry really didn't need clarification where the name came from when the man stepped out into the crowd. Were you even supposed to have muscles in your shoulders? "Happy wedding!" Ron called from the back of the room, with Neville next to him laughing so hard that he could barely catch his breath.
Apparently, the one, the only, 'Long John' was coming Harry's way and there was nothing he could do to stop it. So, he figured, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Or at least, that was what he did when foxed.
"Yeah!" Harry called out, getting cat calls of approval from the onlookers. Even Ginny gave him a pat on the back as the Living Incarnation of Masculinity made his way towards Harry. Clad only in a mesh shirt and black leather boy shorts, his robust and tan muscles threatened to break the fabric. In a moment of true and unspeakable shock, Harry noted that the man was carrying handcuffs.
Telling Ron about his sex life had been a bad idea, he decided right then and there as Neville and Ron came up to drag Harry to a booth without a table to give him more room to be a mixture of mortified and curiously turned on.
Within moments, Harry had a lap-full of man flesh, and lots of it.
And then, in a moment that may have defined Harry Malfoy-Potter's life, the stripper looked him dead in the eyes, and said: "Boy Who Lived, hm? Looks like somebody needs to make a man out of you."
"Oh Merlin."
xxxxXXXXxxxx
His private room in the upper loft was about as suggestive as a room could be. Redundantly enough, there were even photos of naked men along the walls, in all sorts of compromising positions. The other wall of clear glass allowed the party inside to look down on the raging crowd of shirtless men dancing together.
The first thing Draco looked for upon entering was their open bar. He would need it to get through the night.
For some reason, nobody else was walking as fast as him. He beat them to the private bar, and immediately knew something was up. Two men stood in front of it, clad in… Black Auror cloaks? "What the—"
"That's him!" Theo called from behind Draco, motioning to his blonde friend.
As if those had been the magic words, the two men leaped into action. They ripped off their Auror robes to reveal the tiny G-strings underneath. Draco would have burst into laughter if he wasn't so busy drinking them in. "Well, hello, gentlemen."
"We're going to have to place you under arrest, Sir," the tall one said, his dark black hair eerily similar to Harry's.
"On what charges?" Draco asked, playing along.
"Being too damn sexy," the other man purred, his voice low and silky.
It was ridiculous, and cheesy, and nowhere near as hot as when Harry and he role-played arrests, but it was his damned bachelor party. Clichés were as guaranteed as his hangover the next morning would be. "I'd like to see you try," Draco challenged them, receiving whoops and claps from his crowd of friends.
In one swift motion, the two men pinned Draco to a glass wall. The club below him pulsed on, and Pansy's laughter was the only thing he could hear above the music. It was a heavy beat, and fast.
The tall man got to work shaking his hips while the other man grabbed a nearby pole. Somehow, a drink got to Draco's hand without him even needing to prompt his friends. A woman grabbed another pole to ensure that Blaise, Maggie, and Greg didn't die of boredom halfway through the night.
"To the groom!" Theo said, holding up what would be his first of many firewhiskeys.
"To the groom!" the room echoed, and even the strippers joined in.
xxxxXXXXxxxx
Well, at least Harry knew why they called him 'Long John' now. The striptease had Harry cuffed down for what felt like hours. He splashed some water from the sink on his face, and knew what Draco would have to say about the dangers of tap water.
When John had wrapped it up, Harry had been hard and out in the open. Luckily, nobody had noticed when he excused himself to the bathroom. Even in his intoxication, he really didn't need Hermione or Ginny accidentally catching sight of the bulge in his pants.
Finally, Harry looked up to himself in the dirty bar mirror. Much to his surprise, someone had come in behind him. "Ron!" Harry said, turning around. "I will get back at you, somehow. Some day."
"'M sure of it!" Ron slurred happily, stumbling up to hug Harry. They did their customary three pats on the back before separating. "Now, tell me you enjoyed yourself."
Oddly enough, he was right. "Yeah, yeah. He was hot."
"So hot!" yelled Ron amidst his laughter. "Y'know, mate, I love girls and all but sometimes I wonder if the grass is greener—"
"No," Harry said simply. "Just… No."
Ron pretended to be offended. "What, you're allowed to be gay and I'm not?!"
"'Course not," he retorted with an evil grin.
That got Ron laughing even harder, with Harry joining in. "Okay, fine. I guess I'll stick to my wife and kid and stuff."
"And stuff," Harry echoed in agreement.
Suddenly, Ron looked up at his best friend. "You're getting married tomorrow."
"Yeah, I am."
"Holy shit. Hermione's pregnant, I'm married, and you're getting married!" Ron was in a shock as if this was all brand new information.
"All of that is right, Ron. Should we give you another drink to celebrate your memory, hm?"
"Shut up," Ron said seriously. "You're getting married. To Draco bloody Malfoy."
Amused, Harry propped up Ron on a sink. "Yeah, mate; it's actually Malfoy-Potter now."
"That's fuckin' fantastic," he decided, summoning another firewhiskey after all. This time, Harry took it from his hand and drank. "You're gonna marry him. With vows and everything."
"Vows and everything," Harry said before a panic rose in his stomach and he nearly dropped the bottle like Ginny had said he would. "Fuck!"
"Hm?" Ron asked groggily.
"The vows!"
"Harry, if you're trying to tell me you didn't write those fucking vows—"
"That is what I'm trying to tell you!" Harry's hands flew right to his hair, tugging at it in frustration.
"Okay, you get a paper towel, and I'll find a pen. How hard can it be?"
xxxxXXXXxxxx
Once Draco's half-lap-dance-half-wall-dance was finished, his blood was running hot in his veins. The man wasn't his Harry, but he was damned good-looking. Allowing himself to drape across a bright red couch, Draco grabbed another drink off of the glass table in the center of the couches. This one at least had a little decorative umbrella in it.
Their party entertainment bounced along to the music on their poles, while Draco's brood gathered around him.
Out of his pocket, Theo fetched a joint and lit it with his wand. "Tell me," he said, puffing out the first few bursts of smoke. "How does it feel knowing in—" Theo checked his watch "—eighteen hours you will be getting married?"
Draco had to steal a puff himself to answer that properly. "Kind of horribly excited."
"Good on you," Greg said, beaming. "But you better get in all of your indiscretions tonight."
"Harry's just… So sexy, you know? I know that's never gonna be a problem."
From the opposite couch, Pansy let out a drunken laugh. "Your marriage sounds one of those… Those things senators use… Escort services! Yeah, that's right."
"Oh, but I get him for free," Draco pointed out to another round of laughs.
He passed the joint along to Greg, who seemed all-too-eager to get his hands on the Gillyweed. "Good on you, mate, good on you," he told Draco again before passing it along to Maggie.
The redhead was looking fiery as ever, and looked at the blunt with curiosity in her bright eyes. "Hm. Think Mungo's will be doing employee drug tests any time soon?" she asked Draco and Pansy.
"They had them last month," Pansy shrugged and nearly spilled her martini. "So I doubt it."
That seemed to satisfy Maggie for the moment. "Ah, fuck. Haven't had this in years," she murmured. "You're a bad influence, Princess."
"Duh," Pansy said, taking the rolled-up paper and taking in a deep suck. She ended it by blowing the smoke in Maggie's face and across her lips, only before opening her mouth and letting their tongues slide together in the ashy whirl. They would cover up the smell with charms in the morning.
Once it'd been passed around twice, Theo decided he was cutting them off. Draco couldn't still be stoned while he said 'I do'. "I think it's time for a little game," Pansy said; ready to take full advantage of her friends' relaxed states.
"Your favorite game?" asked Blaise, already knowing along with everyone else.
Pansy nodded eagerly, giggling a little as she did so. Draco tried to keep a focus, but her shape kept moving… Wait, there she was. All rosy cheeks and temptress's smiles lighting up that pug face of hers. "But this time, it's for our Draco."
'Our Draco'. What a weird phrase. His mother was always using it, and so were his friends… Woah. Was that really what his hands looked like? Who the hell came up with hands? And why five fingers? Why not six? That would make foreplay much more interesting.
Finally, Draco's head swam back to reality. "Hm?"
"I don't think he's quite ready for a dare," Maggie laughed, resting her now heel-less foot on the glass table. "So, truth."
"If Harry were here right now," Blaise asked, tongue darting out to wet his chapped lips. "What would you do?"
They all had Draco just where they wanted him, a complete open book. This would be an interesting game.
xxxxXXXXxxxx
"Say something about his eyes," Neville suggested, leaning over the paper towel with Ron.
"Or about how dedicated he is to his job," Hermione offered, the only sober one left in the entire establishment.
"Or just bugger the vows and consummate the marriage on the altar," Ron shrugged. "It'd at least give Lucius a stroke."
At this point, with half a pack of paper towels filled with crossed-out promises of love and devotion, Harry didn't think that was such a bad idea.
xxxxXXXXxxxx
"You're kidding."
"I'm not kidding at all," Draco informed them, leaning forward. "We went back to the dungeons, found an empty room, and went at it."
Blaise would have congratulated him if it was 1999. "How is it possible that you resolved past sexual tension in the present?" The question felt slightly spiritual to the Slytherin, but that was what Gillyweed tended to do to people.
"Oh, it's possible. Have I told you all about the time we pretended I captured him during the war? He could barely walk for two days straight afterwards…"
xxxxXXXXxxxx
Harry's guess had been that with each firewhiskey, he would be more and more inspired. It turned out that he was dead wrong. Moving on to another roll of paper towels, he began the process all over again.
This time, he screwed his eyes shut. As wobbly as he was, Harry saw Draco in his mind's eye, and could taste him on his tongue. "Vows. Vows. Think of vows, Potter." He had to correct himself. "Malfoy-Potter."
Setting the paper down on the bar with an air of finality, he went to work.
xxxxXXXXxxxx
Draco wasn't entirely aware of how both of the men in tear-away Auror costumes had gotten on his lap, but he certainly wasn't complaining. The music was loud, they were toned, and the liquor was strong.
For a second, he was king of the pleasure palace. Then, the tall one had to open his damn mouth.
"So, is it true that The Dark Lord told you to kill Albus Dumbledore?"
They were pushed off of him so fast that their heads spun. "We're dancing," Draco declared, making for the door and testing how well his legs worked. With another 'whoop' of noise, his friends followed behind him.
Draco blazed a trail down the glass staircase to the mob below, one moving unit of flesh and delicious sin. Someone handed him a shot. Without thinking, he took it and dove in.
There was a certain feeling Draco got when he was in the middle of a dance floor. It was like he was the center of the universe, and everyone else were meteors and planets that orbited around him. He danced his way to the middle easily, moving close enough to the DJ so that the thump of the bass rang in his ears.
The music took root, blurring the lights and faces of the men around him. Now Draco was back on his throne, with nobody to ask him about Dumbledore or Tom Riddle or anyone in the entire world. Nobody talked on the dance floor because nobody needed to. The beat was the heartbeat of their moves, the heartbeat of the night life around them. Clubs weren't supernatural places that brought out the animal in a person; they were just empty rooms without the people.
Each breath drawn in was pushed by once drawn out, a sweaty hot mix of skin teeming with life and air. At some point his friends caught up, surrounding him in the middle. Whichever way he turned, there was Pansy or Greg or Theo and what felt like miles upon miles of people.
They were in a sea, a never-ending sea of youth and glamour and recklessness. Nobody in here talked about kids.
It reminded him of that conversation he'd had with Theo again.
"Wendy?" he shouted to him, trying to see if Theo remembered.
With an enormous smile, Theo slung his arms around Draco's shoulders and danced with him. "Yes, Peter?"
"'You know that place between sleep and awake, the place where you can still remember dreaming?'" Maybe the real question here was why Draco could suddenly vividly remember J.M. Barrie quotes while under the influence, but Theo seemed impressed.
"'That's where I'll always love you'?" he finished for Draco.
Draco shook his head. "Nah. That's where I'll keep the lost boys."
Laughing, Theo gave him a spin.
xxxxXXXXxxxx
Never did the manufacturer of this paper towel understand the meaning it would have one day. In the factory lines, many people encountered it and never fully understood the significance it would one day hold.
The paper towel had never been born great; it had greatness thrust upon it.
"It's perfect," Harry said quietly, hushed.
"It's wildly romantic," Hermione nodded in approval, trying to hide her proud beaming. She fixed the minor grammar errors with the pen, but Harry had managed not to make a horrible mess of it, even while drunk.
Ron nodded sagely. "Best thing ever written, I think."
"You'll only be able to know in the morning," Luna said with a smile, placing a gentle hand on Ron's shoulder.
"The morning," Harry repeated. "I'm getting married in the morning."
"Oh, now he understands!" Ron complained, laying his head down on the dirty bar.
"Excited?" Neville asked. He certainly was.
Everyone was always asking Harry how fucking excited he was. He wasn't sure what to answer with anymore. "I'm getting married," he parroted, shell-shocked.
"And with your vows done just in time," Ginny said and snorted out a laugh.
Harry's heart hammered in his chest.
xxxxXXXXxxxx
Draco couldn't remember what time they had left the clubs behind them. All he knew now was that they were free to roam the streets as they pleased.
"Oh my god, Blaise," Greg laughed into his friend's shoulder. "Did you see that guy checking you out?"
"Yeah, I saw him when he whipped out his cock," Blaise returned, walking with his arm around Greg. "I mean, it wasn't even too bad. If I was gay, I would've gone for it."
"I'm so proud of your acceptance," Theo said airily.
Shop signs flashed in front of them as they made their way down a wizarding street. Late-night establishments thrived on Friday nights like this. Or, as the case happened to be, Saturday mornings like this.
"We need to do something," Pansy insisted. "One last thing before we drop Draco on my couch."
"What haven't we done?" Theo asked, raising an eyebrow. His point had merit. After all, they'd visited another bar, two more clubs, and another strip joint just to mess with their favorite groom-to-be.
Suddenly, Pansy was inspired. The kind of inspired one can be when they take several illicit materials at once, and consume them all within a span of a few short hours. "I have an idea!"
It wasn't the best idea, and it definitely wasn't the brightest idea, but she was committed. Grabbing Maggie with one hand and Draco with the other, she led them to a glowing storefront at a corner of the street.
The doors of 'Ink of Queens' opened with a little jingle of a charmed bell tied to the entrance.