This is a songfic, inspired by Alice Cooper's "The Man behind the Mask." This is a plot bunny that came to me and followed me throughout the day, demanding to be written. This is a Draco/Harry Slash. PWP. Do not flame the author. If you don't like slash, hit the back button. I write based on reviews, so please review! And for all those waiting for me to update "The Words you Spoke" the update should be up either tonight or tomorrow! Enjoy! I do not own Harry Potter nor Alice Cooper, I'm only a writer being led by brave plot bunnies.
I walked calmly into the darkened building, making sure that my give-away blonde hair was under the hat I wore. I was spying, checking to see if the rumours were true about the former Golden Boy of Hogwarts. Since the defeat of Voldemort and Graduation, people had lost track of Harry Potter and only vague rumours were left to circulate. If Granger and Weasley knew, they kept their mouths shut when the press hounded them. Out of sheer curiosity to see what my former nemesis (and secret desire) was up to, I began following the rumours (I'm filthy rich, therefore allowed to be eccentric), hoping one would pan out. The more outlandish it seemed, the more disgusted I got. Didn't these people know Harry Potter at all? Honestly! I mean how many people out there think that Harry James Potter, defeater of Voldemort, former Quidditch champion would be a drag queen on the street? I had one lead that told me he was a mime on the corner of Fourth and Main in Manhattan. Needless to say that when I returned to the office, I grabbed the first wooden thing my hands came into contact with and chased Finnegan around the hallway until my boss told me to knock it off.
Are you curious about what I do yet? I'm not an Unspeakable or an Auror like many people thought I would be. I'm not even the Potions Master at Hogwarts…yet. Severus told me that the only way I would get that lofty station (for he'd sure as hell entrust it to no other) would be over his cold, dead, mutilated and decapitated body. I don't work for the Police, they just get in the way, and I'm not one of the Men in Black as Neville Longbottom's son once asked me. I know. Longbottom married and procreated. I'm scared too.
Finnegan and his girlfriend the Weaslette, Thomas, Zabini, Bones, Finch-Fletchley, Granger and myself instead formed an investigative company. After the war there were so many people missing, so much work to be done to begin to rebuild both the Muggle world and the Magical one. We spoke with the Ministry so that they could devote themselves to smoothing over Wizard-Muggle relations and casting Memory Charms where needed, and we would search for the people. Our job was not easy, nor was it safe. Frequently people had been abducted by Death Eaters in denial and we often got ourselves neck deep in hot water until we could blast a stunning charm on the kidnapper. Then we'd contact the Aurors who'd come and arrest the Death Eater, we'd take the person back to their family to be reunited, get paid a bundle and watch the tear soaked reunion. Honestly if I wasn't so cynical, I'd cry.
Needless to say when Ron Weasley mentioned that Harry Potter himself needed finding, I had to fight Granger (and everyone else) for the right to get this assignment. It's now been three months and despite hundreds of rumours and so-called sightings, I'm no closer to finding the Golden Boy than I was when this wild goose chase began.
I take a seat near the stage in this bar. What a dump! And Harry Potter is supposed to work here as a bartender? I wouldn't let my House Elf piss in this place. Evidently this is one of the seedier strip joints in the area, where people come to indulge their private fantasies. Charming. If word got out that I, Draco Malfoy, blue blooded Prince of the Wizarding world sat here swilling some kind of ale that not only resembled horse piss but tasted like it…I'd never live down the humiliation. My father would be rolling in his grave…if he hadn't been blasted into a million pieces…if I hadn't cast them somewhere into the water…you get the idea. I ignore the fat, toothless, beer bellied men who are surrounding me and focus on the stage. One lap dance by some nameless, faceless whore and then I can cross this place off the list. I beckon one of the waitresses nearer. "Excuse me Miss." I say politely.
"One hundred pounds down payment before I do a thing." She instantly replied.
I stare at her in awe. "I don't want to have sex with you." I tell her coolly, glad my surprise isn't on my face. "I just want some information."
"It'll cost you."
"It usually does." I grumble as I slap twenty pounds into her hand. "Have you ever heard of Harry Potter?"
"By reputation only." She replied, giggling.
"Does he work here?"
Her eyebrows threatened to lift off her forehead. "What are you insane? The great Harry Potter work in this shithole? How much of that swill have you…swugged?"
Swugged? "I heard a rumour he might work here as a bartender."
"Nope, only bartender we's got is Ol' Salub there. No one else." She pointed to a particularly unappealing thin man picking his nose. Have I mentioned how charming and classy this place is? I must remember to tell Weasley about it next time we speak. Five stars indeed. I bet the cockroaches hold your head when you vomit and the toilets MUST be holes in the floor. This place is a boil on the buttocks of humanity.
"Thanks for your time."
"If you're not into my kind," she whispered in my ear. I could smell her sour breath and fought not to wrinkle my nose. "our next dancer is our most popular one. I tell you he's a fine piece of arse that I wouldn't mind taking home. Pity he's flaming."
"I'll keep it in mind." I mutter, turning back to the stage and ignoring her. WHY did I volunteer to find Potter again?
The lights dim. "Ladies and Gentlemen," I hear scoffs at the ladies part. "The Gyrating Ferret is proud to present…" Wonderful name this place has. Class oozing off it in buckets. "Onyx."
Cheers go up for Onyx and I sit back and sigh. I deserve a break, I've been traipsing through dumps for days now. The lights dim and a strobe light begins, wonderful, I was wondering when I could have a seizure. Now my day is complete. A dark beat fills the building as people begin to inch towards the stage, some already drooling.
You're
with your baby
And you're parked alone
On a summer night
You're deep in love
But you're deeper in the woods
You think you're doin' alright
The curtains part as Onyx walks out and I blink and stare at my glass. This stuff must be stronger than I thought. He's dressed head to toe in leather, with a leather jacket zipped to the chin. His black hair was shot through with blonde streaks and his emerald eyes seemed to glow in the darkness. As the music turned into words, he smiled as he moved his hips. He raised his arms over his head, lifting the jacket to reveal the slightest bit of flesh from his midsection. People begin screaming but he ignores them.
Did you
hear that voice
Did you see that face
Or was it just a dream
This can't be real
That only happens, babe
On the movie screen
His hands move to the zipper of the leather jacket and I find myself leaning forward as he slowly moves the zipper down. Damn it all to hell, this is Harry Potter! I pinch myself to make sure I'm awake and not in one of my…more graphic wet dreams. He slowly slides the jacket off his muscular arms, and underneath he's wearing only a leather snap up vest and leather tie up pants that showed his pelvic girdle. How the HELL did those things stay up? Were they painted on? His boots allowed him to slide over the stage. He licks one finger and runs it down the bicep of one arms, tracing the contour of it. He turns his back to the crowd and drops to his knees, making the leather tighten and make his arse look rock hard. Oh. My. God.
Oh, but he's back
His hands grabbed the vest and ripped it open, revealing his smooth and muscular chest. My own chest is tight. Breathe. Right. I need to breathe.
He's the man behind the mask
Harry Potter kept one hell of a mask up, both over his body and his personality to make him capable of this. Who knew? How the hell could we have possibly known? If I had…I would have had to beat the rest of the school off for him.
And he's out of control
He certainly is. My fantasy seems to have come to life and it's dancing on a stage right in front of me, surrounded by screaming and swooning men and women. By far I am the best looking one here…next to him.
He's back
The man behind the mask
And he crawled out of his hole
He definitely came out of that hole he hid in three years ago at Hogwarts, when he mumbled, and scuffed his toe in the dirt and looked down and was gangly and lean like a broomstick. Holy farquing shite.
You're
swimmin' with your girl
Out on lovers' lake
And the wind blows cold
It chills your bones
But you're still on the make
That's a bad mistake
Moving in time with the music, Harry bobs up and down as he glides his fingers down his chest and over to his nipples, circling them, tracing them and wetting his fingers as he pinched and alternated, pleasuring himself on the stage. His mouth opens with the sensations he's giving himself. My jaw is hanging open at this point and I could no sooner close it than I could stop breathing…which I did again. His fingers moved down to the lacing that was around his waist holding those glorious leather pants on his frame. I leaned closer with rest of the crowd, envying those pants, being jealous of them. Oh damn that I could be on that body.
But the
moon was full
And you had a chance
To be all alone
But you're not alone
This is your last dance
And your last romance
He slowly unlaces one…two… "Take it all off!" someone screams and I second her wholeheartedly, but silently. Placing his arms behind his head, he thrusts his hips forward and gyrates so that people can see a peek that he is wearing something black and leather under those pants, but what? Swinging his hips from side to side, the pants loosen a bit more and one side of them drops off those lean hipbones. Can I just climb on the stage and tear them off him? But there is an audience and what I have in mind is not for these people to see. Am I recording this? This is the stuff dreams are made of. If I wasn't filthy rich, I would be if I sold this. What the HELL inspired him to strip in a place like this? Why the farq am I thinking about it when I have a sweaty and semi naked Harry Potter in front of me?
Yeah,
cause he's back
He's the man behind the mask
And he's out of control
He's back
The man behind the mask
And he's after your soul
He turns to face me and makes eye contact. His eyebrows go up in surprise as his mouth quirks in a semi-smile. Oh shite, I'm in trouble now as he doesn't break eye contact with me and acts like he's dancing for me. He leans down near me so I can see clearly down those exquisite pants. "Is your soul for sale Malfoy?" he murmurs in a husky voice as he hooks his thumbs under the waist of those pants that I would mount on the wall if I had them and begins to pull them down, gyrating some more. He actually performs a Michael Jackson move and grabs his crotch and thrusts forward. I think some people surrounding me have fainted. Lord knows I'm light headed at this moment. Oh wait, I'm forgetting to breathe again. I think a bird could take up residence in my mouth, I haven't been able to close it since he came out on that stage. The strobe only adds to the unrealness of this moment.
Oh, if
you see him comin'
Get away if you can
Why on God's green earth would I want to get away from…THAT?
Just keep on runnin'
Run as fast as you can
He's a dangerous, dangerous man
How very true, he is dangerous. The most powerful wizard in the world, one who shames Dumbledore. One who is the heir of Gryffindor, one who has Slytherin blood in him. This is a side of Harry I never suspected, but it goes with other rumours I have collected, that Harry has a darkness in him, one that almost got him placed in Slytherin. This is the Slytherin Harry I see in front of me, and DAMN do I like it! Evidently he learned to let his darkness out, and this is the result, but what a way to let it out!
Under those pants that he has drawn to his ankles, he's wearing a black leather thong that only adds to the size of him. Look at that wand! Again, I never knew that he was hiding so much under those enormous robes and clothes he wore. He's stroking himself through the leather. I let out a moan I can't hold inside with everyone else there as he drops to his knees and throws his head back, glorious eyes closed as one hand strokes his growing erection and the other one caresses a nipple. He has a hollow in his neck I want to taste…I think I'm drooling.
And
he's out tonight
And he's watchin' you
His eyes are focused on me again as he reaches inside that underwear to grasp himself. I gasp with the rest of the crowd.
And he knows your house
No, don't turn out the lights
For all that he's playing with the crowd, he never pulls that long piece of flesh out that myself and everyone else wants to see. I'm in trouble, lots of it as he seems to speed up his stroking and licks his lips as he looks at me, never once forgetting to move and undulate in time to the music. I'm hard as a rock myself and I close my eyes only to see him behind my eyelids.
Yeah, cause he's back
He's the man behind the mask
And he's out of control
He's back
The man behind the mask
And he's after your soul
"Take my soul Harry." I whisper, knowing he can't hear me over the music. I start in shock as I see him throw a wink at me, having read my lips. On his knees, he fixes me in the glare of his green eyes, like two beams of desire that tear into me and rip away my defences. He leans forward to me and licks the tip of my nose as the rest of the crowd groans with desire and moans with disappointment. I get hundreds of dirty looks shot my way. I don't care I can only focus on this mythical creature in front of me.
He's
back
He's the man behind the mask
And he's out of control
I lean forward to taste those lips he has licked and bitten while on stage as he takes my hand and leads it inside his thong. I'm not sure who moans louder, him, myself or the crowd. Things go black as I forget that I am being watched by hundreds of people, as I forget that I am in the seediest bar ever to grace the earth, I think only that a sweaty, dancing and shaking Harry Potter in leather has taken my hand and placed it on his firmness. He thrusts into my caress as he closes his eyes. I can't take him here, I can't. "Draco." He moans and I think I'm going to lose it.
He's back
The man behind the mask
And he's after your soul
His hand joins mine to speed up and squeeze him tighter as his other hand goes back to his chest. As the chorus begins to repeat he comes in a giant climax that brings me and the rest of the room along for the ride. The music fades as he opens his eyes, gives me a chaste kiss on the lips, takes a bow and heads off the stage.
People are fanning themselves and ordering drinks by the gallon. I beckon to another waitress. "I need to talk to Onyx." I say desperately.
"You and everyone else." She mutters. "Onyx isn't for sale. He's not that kind of guy."
"I have to talk to him."
"I'll see if he wants to talk to you." She gestures for me to follow her. "Who's calling?"
"Malfoy." I say tersely.
She walks in a door and I hear inaudible conversation that resulted in her coming out and winking at me. "You are a lucky boy Malfoy. He never sees anyone."
I'm torn between ripping the door off the hinges and running inside, Malfoy dignity be damned, or coolly and casually sauntering in. I settle for a mixture of the two…actually I go for option number one. "Hello Malfoy." He says calmly, waiting for me in nothing but that hides-nothing thong.
My mind is shutting down, I think I'm blind, I think I've died and gone to Harry-heaven, I think I'm hallucinating, I think…to hell with thinking. I move towards him. He's smirking at me in a way I'm not sure I like. Suddenly I feel like a rabbit caught in the sights of a hungry hawk, and he's chosen me for dinner. This is the Golden Boy of Gryffindor? This is Dumbledore's pride and joy?
"I was wondering how long it would take you to find me." He continues. He gestures behind him. "Close the door."
I close it, heart thumping painfully, not sure what will happen next, praying beyond hope that…his lips are hot on my throat as I groan, feeling his arousal grinding into my buttocks. "Want a repeat performance?" he asks in a husky voice.
He did it. The crazy son a bitch did it. He listened to my dare and vanished, only to reappear as a professional stripper – and wasn't Hogwarts going crazy trying to figure out where their DADA teacher went. I had a hell of a time keeping a straight face when Weasley said he was missing, fighting to see this spectacle that he prepared just for me. "Only in private." I murmur, embracing him in my arms and delving into his mouth. Has it really been three months since I held him?
He smirks at me one last time before surrendering to the kiss. "Happy Anniversary Draco."