A very long, juicy chapter to sink your teeth into. I worked my butt off (unfortunately, not literally), to get this out quickly, and I think you'll like it, but tell me what you think, okay? I've absolutely loved the reviews so far – thanks so much. Enjoy!
Something was different, Harry decided, as he ate his breakfast, occasionally casting looks at his blond companion. It was quieter then usual, not that they ever talked much in the morning, and there was something about the way Draco was still staring at him. Like he was hungry, which didn't make sense since Harry knew Draco had already eaten his breakfast. Also, Draco was fidgety when he was never fidgety, and it looked as though he didn't know what to do with his hands. Yes, something was very different this morning, but it would have to wait until Harry had finished his third or fourth cup of coffee before he could begin to decipher the cause.
Having been suddenly confronted (more like blind-sided), with the ability to feel attraction, Draco was rapidly coming to terms with his emotions. Somebody should have warned him what he was getting into, but then again, it hadn't really been a conscious choice to fall for Harry Potter. And he hadn't exactly fallen; no, it was more like he had tripped. But he was definitely gathering momentum, and it might turn out to be that he really was falling in… Draco frowned; it was too soon to be thinking such thoughts. Especially when you considered he was still feeling confused, angry, and hurt, in combination with the positive feelings. All these conflicting thoughts: it was disconcerting to say the least.
How was he to act around Harry now? How to suppress the singularly odd compulsion he had to slide across the table, and taste for himself whether that mouth was as delectable as it appeared? How to let Harry know that he wanted something of a romantic nature between them? And how to be sure that a relationship was something they both wanted anyway?
Draco had never flirted before; had never put himself out there in the hopes of garnering some affection. All those ridiculous things others did on a regular basis, that he, in his untouchable state, had sneered at, were now skills he wished he possessed. Of course, he was good at coercion and manipulation – or at least he had been. Was getting someone else to fall for you, that much different? How to make himself irresistible to a person who had definitely seen him at his worst, was a very tricky problem, one that Draco's brain refused to let drop.
Draco brushed his hand through his hair, knowing his cool façade had long since deserted him. He was hyper-aware of his body at the moment, having to concentrate just to remember to blink. Did he look okay? His cursory glance in the mirror that morning had assured him everything was in place, but anything could have happened in the few minutes since then. A hair might have become tangled, he might have splattered something on his clothes while cooking, or, God forbid, he might have stumbled into some bad lighting. Was he too pale? Not pale enough? Harry had wolfed down his breakfast in customary fashion, but supposing the toast had been a little on the burnt side, the eggs too runny? Draco smoothed down his borrowed T-shirt again, and tucked it in savagely to the loose waistband of his jeans. Too pretentious for the morning? Draco pulled the shirt back out in a panic. He ran shaking fingers through his hair again. Wait! Had he upset the natural part in his hair? A glance at his reflection in the metallic-sided toaster, reassured him somewhat. Though he worried about the width of his forehead, was that normal? Well, nothing he could do about bone-structure now. But his hands he could control: he put them 'casually' into his pockets, took them back out; hooked his thumbs into his belt loops, got them tangled, and struggled to free them; he clasped his hands behind his back; and just as he was beginning to wonder if twiddling his thumbs would look either sweet and charming, or neurotic and contrived, Harry interrupted his increasingly obsessive actions.
" Is something wrong?"
" Wrong? No. Why, does something look wrong?" Draco winced at the sound of his own voice. He'd already gone through puberty, thank you very much, was it necessary for his voice to start squeaking all of a sudden?
" You just seem kind-of jumpy. I'd lay off the caffeine if I were you," Harry said with a shrug. Breathing a sigh of relief that Harry was just as unaware of those around him as usual, Draco pulled out the kitchen chair across from Harry and sank into it gratefully. The table at least blocked him from the waist down – he could put his hands beneath it.
" I'm fine. Really," Draco said, smiling at Harry's unconvinced expression. " Just got a few things on my mind is all."
" Oh, I meant to say something about that. I mean, I know we don't really want to go into what happened last night again, but I just thought I should make it clear that nothing has changed."
" Nothing?" Draco intoned. How could Harry say it was nothing, when they'd revealed some of their deepest, darkest, secrets and fears? Did it mean nothing that they had fought each other, held each other, kissed, and ended up in the same bed? Albeit, the bed part wasn't nearly as interesting as it sounded, and the kiss had been quite punishing, completely one-sided, and certainly not in the much vaunted storybook style, but to say it meant nothing was a bit much. So far, it was the most intimate thing they had ever shared, and Harry had the sheer audacity to claim it meant nothing? Nothing? Well, he would just have to kiss Harry again and prove to him it certainly wasn't nothing…
" Draco? Are you even listening to me?" Harry asked. Draco had his arms crossed over his chest, and he was scowling, a determined glint in his eye. At Harry's query, Draco looked up guiltily, flushed red, and asked Harry to repeat himself. " I said, that nothing has changed; you can still stay here as long as you need to. I don't want to add to any of the stuff you're going through, and I just thought I'd tell you directly that finding a safe place to stay, isn't something you need to worry about right now."
" Oh. That," Draco replied sheepishly. Of course, Harry was being practical, not obsessing over near-kisses, and sudden infatuations. Draco mentally slapped himself.
" What did you think I meant?"
" Uhh, nothing," Draco stammered. If Harry wasn't going to bring up their relationship, if you could even call it that, then Draco wasn't going to either. Better to let time sort them out. To change the topic, Draco suggested, " I don't know how I'm going to repay you, Harry. I mean, I only have the money I came with and it's not much. It's yours, though. You know, for rent and food and stuff."
Harry shrugged. " Keep it, I've got enough money. What are your plans now, though? Do you think you want to get a job or something?"
Harry felt a sudden stab of… something. Almost like fear, but not so sharp. The thought of Draco getting a job, and his own place, moving out… Harry realized he really didn't care about the cost of supporting someone else, and in fact, he liked spending his inheritance on something worthwhile. He enjoyed having someone to come home to.
" I'm sort-of scared to go outside," Draco admitted softly.
" But you went out before," Harry responded.
" That was with you," Draco explained. " I know it's silly, that I'll have to get over it, but I can't help thinking that outside is this dark, scary place."
" So, it's not so much that you fear getting caught, but rather that you just feel vulnerable out there."
" Yeah. Stupid, but I think I'm going to get lost, and not find my way back. Maybe it's because I spent so long on my own, in a small room, not talking to people or interacting with them, but I get nervous being around crowds, around strangers, even just being in really big places. And I don't really understand how this muggle world works, and it makes me so sure I'm about to make a huge mistake. Can you understand that?"
" Sort-of. I can't imagine what it was like to be isolated for so long, but I think it makes sense that you would want to be alone more often. Do I bother you?"
" No. Quite the contrary. Sometimes I wake-up and I think I'm still there and it terrifies me, but then I realize I'm here and it's fine again. And it's people in general that frighten me, not individuals that I know. Like you, or even Mrs. Cooper. Crowds are just something I need to get used to again," Draco said.
" Well, then I'll have to take you out more often, and soon you'll be as arrogantly confident as ever," Harry said, grinning. It made Harry smile that Draco felt safe with him. At least for a little while, Draco was going to be dependent on him, and it was reassuring to Harry, knowing Draco couldn't run out on him. " In fact, we've been invited out for next Saturday night, with some friends of mine from school. Feel up to it?"
" I suppose. What will we do exactly?"
" Go clubbing, most likely," Harry said.
" Excuse me?"
" You know, we'll meet up somewhere, probably here, for a few drinks, and then head to a pub for a few more drinks. Then a club, for still more drinks, until we're drunk enough to believe we can dance, and possibly even drunk enough to sing, and then we'll come home smelling of alcohol and smoke, too tired to do more then crash, and then we'll wake-up, with killer headaches, and swear we'll never, ever, drink again. And we'll wonder why it is we ever thought we could sing, when it's so clearly obvious in our sober states that we can't."
" Sounds fun," Draco said sardonically. " Kind-of like the house-parties we had at Hogwart's then?"
" Precisely. Only louder and with more alcohol."
" Understood. But if we do go, you need some new clothes for sure. I can only imagine what you've been going out in before I arrived," Draco said, a slight smug smile on his face.
" You just want me to get new clothes, so you can keep the ones you're borrowing," Harry teased.
" Please. I'm only wearing these out of necessity," Draco replied immediately.
" Then, you'll have to come shopping and get some new clothes too," Harry rejoined. Draco growled as he realized he had fallen quite easily into Harry's trap.
" Fine," Draco said through gritted teeth. " We'll both go shopping. But I don't have to like it."
Harry had classes that week, and work, so he was gone a good portion of the time. Draco was more or less content to stay in; he spent his time evenly divided between cooking, reading, and going insane.
It was entirely Harry's fault that he was going insane. Oh, Harry wasn't doing it on purpose, at least, Draco didn't think so, but Harry was managing to do it just the same. A little touch here, a small grin there - anything and everything sending Draco's pulse racing, and jangling his already sensitive nerves. Draco wondered if Harry was aware of even half of what he was doing. Did Harry know, that every morning, he would search out the clothes Draco had worn the day before and wear them? Didn't Harry ever wonder why his clothes were slightly wrinkled and smelling of Draco? Unless, that was what he wanted… But how could a person do that without being aware of it?
The touches were worse though. The way Harry's hand would slide across Draco's own, seemingly by accident, warm palm ghosting across tingling skin, the sensation so light and teasing it made Draco want to scream. There was the way Harry would shift on the couch when they were watching television, his body never actually touching Draco's, but near enough that Harry's warmth leeched into Draco's suddenly cold body. And there was that time that Harry had brushed Draco's hair out of his eyes, pushing it behind Draco's ear, so gently, that it made Draco want to close his eyes and live forever in that one moment. But the touches were all so fleeting, and so casual that they could be accidental. Draco fervently hoped they weren't.
This morning had been the worst of all, however, and was the reason for Draco's current twitchy and irritated behaviour. He had been preparing breakfast as usual, leaning over a pan containing several chocolate chip pancakes (a rather plebeian recipe, Draco thought, but Harry seemed to like anything that contained chocolate), when a dozy looking Harry had yawned his way into the kitchen. Having figured out Harry's daily routine without too much difficulty (Harry really was too predictable), he knew the dark-haired man would head directly to the coffee pot. There wasn't a lot of room in the small kitchen, and Harry had to move past him to reach the machine. Still, there had been no real need for Harry to put his hands on Draco's hips as he slid past. For a split second, Harry's entire body had brushed up against his back, the heat of Harry's hands burning into Draco's hips, the infinitesimal amount of breath against the back of his neck enough to scorch him. The spatula had fallen from suddenly nerveless fingers, along with the sound of a sharp intake of air, unbidden from Draco's mouth. And Harry had had the gall to ask if anything was the matter.
" Yes, Harry, something is the matter. You've been playing with my emotions all week, promising things and never once coming through on them. There ought to be more kissing, if you ask me. I may be new at all this, but I definitely feel that there has been a severe lack of kissing," Draco mused aloud to the emptiness. He laughed at himself, then scowled, then grinned madly, before returning to his earlier growling. Harry Potter was driving him insane, and there was nothing he could do to stop him.
It was the Friday afternoon before their planned evening out, when they finally had a chance to go out to the stores. Draco was waiting more or less patiently at the flat for Harry to get back from his morning class and collect him. He was dressed in a warm coat and his scruffy shoes, the red mittens once again adorning his hands. It wasn't very cold, but he couldn't seem to go without the mittens. Harry arrived, and Draco took a deep breath and stepped outside the flat door.
" You okay?"
" I'm fine," Draco spit out angrily. " Don't keep reminding me of it, okay? Let me deal with it."
Harry kept himself from responding defensively, and instead said neutrally, " We have to go to the bookshop first. Get my paycheque again."
They arrived at the bookshop, which was quiet, with only Mr and Mrs. Cooper in the store. Mr. Cooper was a short, slightly balding man with glasses, who had a smile almost as wide as his wife's.
" Harry, my boy. So good to see you out and about on this fine afternoon, and this must be Draco, your new 'friend', whom the missus keeps talking about. Nice to meet you, son. I'm Mr. Cooper, but everyone calls me Coop, you'll do the same, yes?"
" Nobody calls him Coop, he just thinks it would make a good nick-name," Mrs. Cooper said cheerily. Mr. Cooper tried to scowl at his wife, but he was too obviously smitten with his wife, for it to have any affect.
" I've your money right here, Harry. See? I can occasionally be organized," she said. " How are things with you Draco? Harry's been taking better care of you then last time, I hope?"
Draco smiled, " Oh yes. We're going out tomorrow night, actually, and I told Harry that he simply had to get some new clothes."
" Congratulations! I've been trying to drag my husband out to the shops, but he adamantly refuses."
" What's wrong with what I wear?" Mr. Cooper interjected.
" Men," Mrs. Cooper said, shaking her head. Draco cast her a sympathetic look, while Harry rolled his eyes.
" Would you like to come with us, Mrs. Cooper? Draco needs some clothes too, and since he obviously can't rely on my opinion…" Harry asked, relishing the fact that Draco was glaring at him. Harry knew that if Mrs. Cooper came along, Draco would have to keep up his persona the whole time, or he would spoil the joke.
" Oooh, I would love to! I'll get my coat, if that's okay with you sweetheart?"
" Go ahead. Heaven forbid I should stand between you and a shopping excursion," Mr. Cooper said. He turned to Harry and winked, " You will send her home in a few days time, once the expedition is over?"
" We'll try," said Draco. He walked up to Mrs. Cooper, and offered his arm to her charmingly. " But you never know with me. Once I start spending money, it's hard for me to stop," Draco narrowed his eyes at Harry, and Harry gulped. He knew what that look meant; it meant Harry was going to have to spend quite a bit of money to keep Draco quiet. Well, it was to be expected that Draco would find some way to work things to his advantage. Harry would have been more upset, except that Draco, for the first time since leaving the flat, actually looked relaxed. Harry decided to smile, and just go along with things.
Mrs. Cooper knew her way around the shops better then either of the men, so she took the lead, dragging Draco with her by the arm, with Harry following in their wake.
" Nope, don't like the look of that. The cut is all wrong," Draco said. He was seated in a stiff-backed chair just outside the men's dressing room. Mrs. Cooper sat in the chair next to him. They were surrounded by several shopping bags, most of them Draco's.
" I agree. I think he should try the black pants in a smaller size. I don't know why he keeps reaching for clothes that are obviously too big for him," Mrs. Cooper said. Harry had long since given-up trying to get them to listen to his opinion. They both ignored him anyway.
" Here they are," Draco said, finding the pants and handing them to Harry. Harry changed quickly and came out again, trying to remain unaffected by their combined scrutiny.
" Still not quite right. Perhaps we ought to try the next shop, I think I saw some items in there last week that would be perfect for him," Mrs. Cooper said eagerly. Draco nodded, and Harry sighed and went to change back into his regular clothes. As they walked towards what had to be their thousandth shop of the day (actually, it was probably about the twelfth store they had been to, but Harry thought the exaggeration was necessary), Harry took one last shot at ending the trip early. Somehow, he had gotten the responsibility of carrying all the bags; a most opportune cough from Draco had freed him from helping.
" Why do we have to keep looking? I've found some stuff, and Draco was really the one without anything to wear. And speaking of that, how come Draco found everything he needed so quickly?"
" Because, darling, some people have an immediate understanding of what will look good on them," Mrs. Cooper said, smiling. " When you have to let other people help, it takes a little longer, but don't worry. We haven't yet begun to fight… er, shop."
" So Draco was faster because he has good taste to begin with?" Harry asked dejectedly. There was no way he could make the trip go faster then, since he readily admitted to having little to no fashion sense.
" Well there's that," Draco said. " Plus there's the fact that I look good in everything."
Mrs. Cooper giggled, and Harry rolled his eyes skyward yet again. Harry supposed it was a good thing that his companions were having such a good time, and it had been awhile since Draco had had a panic attack. Still, they were so perky (due to Mrs. Cooper's regular personality, and Draco's role as the over-the-top boyfriend), that it was beginning to get on Harry's nerves.
The next store proved sympathetic to Harry's plight, for virtually everything he tried on not only fit well, but they met with the near impossible standards of his two critics. He could have done without the lascivious comments and blatant innuendoes from Draco, but Mrs. Cooper only encouraged him, laughing until she had tears in her eyes at some of the more explicit descriptions.
After purchasing the clothing, Mrs. Cooper suggested that both Harry and Draco get haircuts. She directed them to a specific salon, suggesting with exaggerated movements of her eyebrows that Harry keep an eye on his boyfriend. This proved to be because one of the stylists was very obviously gay, and very obviously partial to blonds.
Harry had his hair trimmed rather quickly, while Draco was subjected to a lengthy discussion on the 'amazing quality and texture' of his hair. Draco was more then a little discomfited by the not-so-subtle attentions of Alfredo, his stylist. When the silver scissors finally made their appearance, Draco shut his eyes and hoped for the best.
" Looks good, love," said Harry, loud and clear. Draco's eyes opened wide when he felt soft lips descend on his cheek.
" Thanks," Draco stuttered, wondering when he had fallen asleep and started dreaming. Looking up he caught sight of Alfredo in the mirror. Alfredo was pouting, Mrs. Cooper patting him on the shoulder, and Harry leaned in again and whispered into Draco's ear.
" Alfredo wasn't entirely convinced we were together. I'm assuming, of course, that you're not interested in a date with wonder boy?"
" Not hardly," Draco said grinning. " You know, having you as a boyfriend sure has its advantages."
Harry reddened slightly, and turned away, leaving Draco to sigh discontentedly. It seemed like whenever an opportunity arose for something to happen between them, Harry backed-off. It made no sense, since Draco was all but convinced that Harry wanted there to be a connection. So, what was Harry so afraid of? And how was Draco going to make him change his mind?
After the haircuts, Draco and Harry walked Mrs. Cooper back to the bookshop, and went back to the flat with their purchases. Draco was hanging up his clothes in the closet in the bedroom, when he came across the cloak he had been wearing when he had first arrived. It seemed like that had been ages ago. He shivered as unwanted memories came to mind, and he shoved the cloak to the darkest corner of the closet. He proceeded to hang up Harry's clothes, and when he was finished, he stood back to admire his handiwork. It pleased him to see the neat orderly row, with his things hanging alongside Harry's, like they were meant to be there.
Harry worked most of Saturday, but he was home in time for dinner. After eating, Harry took a short nap on the couch, while Draco finished his latest book from the comfort of the armchair. At least, the original plan had been to read, but of course, his traitorous mind was making him cast longing looks at the slumbering man across from him. Damn it if the man wasn't fascinating even while comatose. Harry was frowning slightly, a slight twitching in his limbs becoming apparent. Before it could worsen, Draco shook him awake.
" Thought you wanted to take a shower before your friends got here," Draco said. Harry rubbed at his eyes and stretched.
" Yeah, thanks I will," said Harry. Harry's outfit was laid out for him – Draco was not taking any chances with Harry's attire, despite the fact that all the clothes Mrs. Cooper and he had chosen couldn't possibly clash. Knowing Harry, the man would probably find a way. Harry took the change of clothes with him into the bathroom, and Draco decided he might as well change too, while he had the bedroom to himself.
Draco was standing before the mirror, fixing his already perfect hair. He had to say one thing for Alfredo – the man sure knew how to cut hair. He must have been gazing at his reflection longer then intended, because he was still standing there when Harry came in, ready to go. Draco could see Harry's reflection in the mirror, so he didn't need to turn around. Black cloth trousers skimmed over long slim legs; a green fitted t-shirt, so dark it was almost black, emphasized lightly muscled arms, a toned chest, and sweetly defined abs. Harry's softly curled, dark hair shadowed his pale face, making his green eyes even more startling for their luminosity. Unlike other times when Draco had seen Harry without his glasses, this time Harry's eyes were not clouded and hazily focused, but were sharp and piercing, and seemed to bore into Draco, even through the mirror.
Harry responded to Draco's unasked question, " I'm wearing contact lenses. I don't like to wear them much, they make me feel… exposed, or something. But I thought they'd work better for tonight."
Draco could understand Harry's motivation; with the contacts in, Harry's face was uncommonly open, vulnerable even. The green eyes flashed, despite the dull light, the raw emotionality of the emerald orbs easy to read. It was Harry's face, that when combined with the new clothes over the nicely developed body, made him, in this moment, look almost impossibly beautiful. Draco suppressed a groan, and instead muttered something under his breath.
" What was that?" Harry asked. He clearly was looking for some approval, so Draco summoned up his courage, and turned, facing the real person. Harry looked even better then his reflection.
" I said, you weren't supposed to look that good," Draco said, annoyed that he wasn't in better control of this situation.
" Well, sorry," Harry said sarcastically.
" You should be," Draco said, turning back to the safety of the mirror.
" And why exactly don't you want me to look good again?"
If Draco hadn't been so worried about ruining his hair, he would have beaten his head against the wall. He wanted to tell Harry that he was supposed to look his plain, ordinary self, because at least then Draco had some chance of keeping his pulse rate normal. He wanted to shake Harry until the other boy realized that if he went out looking the way he did, that heads all over the place were going to turn. He wanted to lunge at Harry, wrap his hands around Harry's neck, and strangle him, because Harry was once more taunting him, teasing him, and making him ache with want. How could Harry be so blind?
Harry was shifting his weight from foot to foot. Without his hair hanging in his eyes, without his glasses, and baggy clothes, he felt more then a little insecure. Being unable to decipher Draco's mood wasn't helping his confidence any either. Speaking of Draco, did he have to always look so calm and put together?
Draco was dressed in grey nylon pants, the drawstring waistband riding low on his slim hips – whether that was by design or because he was still a little on the thin side was anybody's guess, but Harry surmised that the blond knew exactly what he was doing. A long sleeved shirt, the colour of wet slate, and almost metallic in texture, was draped over his finely boned frame, the hint of collarbone at the shirt's neck surprisingly alluring. Like everything else about Draco, from his poised carriage, to the smooth curve of his neck, to the radiant quality of his unblemished skin, and to his shifting silver eyes, the affect was as subtle as it was devastating. Harry felt his mouth go dry.
Harry watched with rapt attention as Draco detached himself from the mirror, and approached, the graceful movement of his limbs enabling him to glide rather then walk. Harry was aware that he had stopped breathing at some point, but it didn't seem all that important at the moment. Draco reached out, his eyes focussed entirely on Harry, and Harry's eyes widened. Draco brushed a non-existent speck from Harry's shoulder.
" Lint," Draco breathed.
" Oh," Harry responded stupidly.
Just then the door buzzer sounded, startling them both. Harry leapt away from Draco, and hurried to the intercom. He pushed a button and told his friends they'd be right down. When he returned to the bedroom, Draco had already put his coat and shoes on, and was holding out Harry's jacket.
" Right, then, I guess we're ready?"
" Some more then others," Draco muttered.
Standing just outside the front doors of the flat were Harry's friends. Tim was leaning against the back of a rusting red car; a rather large man with blunt features and a solemn expression, he looked up with mild interest as Harry and Draco approached. Mike, in direct contrast to Tim, was small, lively, and sprinted up the few steps to all but tackle Harry.
" Harry! Tell me you like the hair. See, 'cause I spiked it, then Tim said it looked goofy, so I wet it down, and then I remembered that I never listen to that prat, so I spiked it again, and then even I thought it was overdone, so I went to take it out but Tim said we had to go or we'd be late…"
Harry interrupted. The only way to get a word in edgewise with Mike was simply to break in mid-spiel. " Well, let me get a closer look." Harry held a hand up to his chin, and circled around Mike looking very ponderous. Unable to bear the pout in Mike's brown eyes, he finished his mock examination. " Looks stunning, Tim doesn't know what he's talking about."
Mike turned triumphantly and called out to Tim, " See? I told you he'd like it."
" Bloody fantastic. Think you could introduce us now Harry?"
" Right, sorry," Harry said, as they moved towards the car. " This is Draco, and Draco, these are my friends, Tim and Mike."
" Nice to meet you," Draco said carefully, unconsciously moving closer to Harry.
" I'm guessing you're the reason Harry's looking so very delectable tonight," Mike said. This was exactly the reaction Draco had feared, and he felt very tempted to take hold of HaHarry's hand and show that he was spoken for. Unfortunately, Harry wasn't his – yet.
Tim rolled his eyes, " Great, now you're coming on to our friends too. Have you no shame?"
" None, apparently. I'm still dating you, aren't I?" Mike said cheekily.
" Hey, I made you lads swear to be on your best behaviour, so as not to scare Draco overly. Now, are we going or what? It's damn well freezing out here," Harry said.
" Ah, Harry. Ever the voice of reason. I do hope you're more interesting Draco," Mike said. Harry just shook his head in amusement.
They piled into the car, and most of the conversation was taken up with getting themselves to the club without getting lost on the dark, and twisting streets. Draco decided he didn't really like travelling in cars, screwing his eyes tightly shut after spinning around a corner at high speed, and was doubly glad to get out when they arrived at their destination.
" This is one of our favourite places," Mike supplied, as they waited outside the entrance for Tim to park the car. " Near enough to university to get a few students, lots of people, reasonable prices, loud and cheery music, and a 'friendly' atmosphere."
" Friendly?" Draco queried.
" He means he won't get beat-up for kissing his boyfriend here," Harry supplied.
Tim arrived, and they pushed through the throng into the darkened club. Swirling lights hung from the bare rafters, and a fog machine was pumping out smoke at regular intervals, to mingle with the already stifling air, and everywhere Draco looked, they're were more people. Panic filled him, as the muted and hazy objects in the gloom began to take-on sinister shapes. It was the people pressing against him, however, that really sent his confidence plummeting, and when he felt a hand close around his arm, he struggled against it, giving out a small cry that was thankfully swallowed up by the pounding music.
" I've got you, it's okay. Sorry, I didn't think," Harry said, worried and concerned. Draco just shook his head, dismissing the need for an apology.
" Just a lot of people and noise so quickly. I'll be alright," Draco said. Harry's hand pressed gently against the small of Draco's back as he guided the blond forward again, to the table that Tim had procured. Mike took their coats to the coat check, and Draco gratefully took the corner seat. Harry still looked worried, and Draco forced himself to smile. " Look, we're here to have a good time. Let's just get me very, very, drunk, deal?"
" If you're sure…"
" Harry, the man said he wants to get drunk. It's our job to see that he succeeds," Mike said, catching the tail end of their conversation, when he returned with drinks from the bar. " Drink-up, it's still happy hour for another fifteen minutes. Then it should begin to pick up in here."
Draco blanched at the prospect of still more people crowding the small space, but he was also determined to prove he could not be easily cowed. He latched onto his beer like it was the answer to all of life's problems, and, actually, for that night, it was.
Draco was giggling madly at another one of Mike's incredibly rude, incredibly tasteless, and therefore terribly funny jokes. Tim was tracing patterns on the tabletop between the numerous glasses and bottles that littered the surface, while he watched his boyfriend with a look that was part bemusement and part adoration. Harry was smiling gently, his eyes lidded softly; he was pleased with the way the night was going. His friends were getting along, Draco had reached the happy-drunk stage where inhibitions and insecurities were deemed unimportant, and the music was finally starting to get good. It also helped that he was more then a little inebriated himself.
" Draco dance now," Mike said, standing up suddenly and nearly knocking the table over. Harry broke out of his lethargy, to protest on Draco's behalf, but Draco beat him to it.
" No thanks, unless… Harry? Do you want to?"
To his surprise, all three men at the table burst out laughing. Mike was all but rolling on the floor, clutching his stomach. When he had sufficiently recovered, he blurted out,
" You want Harry to dance? Do you have masochist leanings or something?"
" Oh come on, I admit I'm not great, but I'm not that bad," Harry disputed. Mike started laughing again, and Tim raised an eyebrow. " Am I?"
" Yes, you are. And as you're friends we can't allow you to be so humiliated – well, at least not when we'd be associated with said humiliation," Tim said. It was the longest sentence Tim had made that night. Maybe because he was the only one still sober.
" Come on, Draco. Let's leave these two flatfeet here, where they can watch and be envious. Please?" Mike was really whining now, and to Harry's astonishment, Draco was capitulating. Clearly the blond was even drunker then Harry thought.
Draco was thinking that maybe if Harry drank just a little more, then it might be possible to manipulate him into dancing with him. And if he could get Harry to commit to such an action in public, it would be a big step for them in the right direction. It was the plan Draco had come up with sometime that evening, after he'd become a little more at ease in their environment. It was quite a crafty plan, which Draco was immensely pleased with, mostly because it involved being devious, clever, and deceitful. Imagine, they actually thought he was intoxicated. A smirk darted across his face.
" Fine, Mike. Only if Tim doesn't mind?"
" Go, have fun," Tim said, clearly relieved not to have to step out onto the dance floor himself. Harry stood up to allow Draco to move past him, and decided to get himself another drink. When he got back to the table, Tim was staring with rapt attention at the dancers, in particular at Mike and Draco. He wasn't the only one, and it wasn't simply because it was two men that the sight was so arresting.
" And that is why we do not let you dance," Tim muttered, and Harry silently agreed. Draco's movements would have made any feeble attempt by Harry look grotesque in comparison. The dance flowed so naturally, as though Draco was meant to be watched. Maybe he was, for Harry certainly couldn't seem to keep his eyes off him. It was all silver and shadow, seductive and sensuous. Harry wanted to close his eyes, the sensations to overwhelming, but his body betrayed him, unwilling to be deprived from its new source of energy, the revitalizing aphrodisiac of the soul.
A slow song commenced, and Mike and Draco returned to the table.
" Drunk enough yet to risk it Harry?" Draco asked. Harry was resisting, his mind supplying him with a thousand excuses. He was tempted to tell Draco that, no matter how good Draco and Mike had looked together, that men really shouldn't dance, and especially not together. And it was a slow song, and people were now interested in Draco, and if they went out together they'd both be watched, and they'd have to be quite close together…
" Okay," Harry said. The instant the words spilled out of his mouth he regretted them, but by then it was too late. Draco was pulling him forwards by the hand, in a manner reminiscent of how they had entered the club, though this time the roles were reversed. It was Draco who was guiding Harry; Draco who was making the people watching seem inconsequential.
Clearly, Draco was recalling the same moment, for when they were in position beneath the softly glowing multi-coloured lights, Draco echoed Harry's words from before: " It's okay, I've got you."
Harry stood, looking awkward, eyes alighting on the press of people around them, feeling very conspicuous.
" For crying out loud, Potter. This is not a death march. Look, you put your hands here, and let me do the rest," Draco said, exasperated, though charmed, by Harry's reluctance. Draco placed Harry's hands on his hips, and slid his own arms up Harry's shoulders. Harry was unbending, shuffling his feet, and still looking around anxiously. Draco sighed.
" Just relax, Harry. It's okay, everything's okay."
Draco brought Harry in closer, until they could feel the heat of each other's bodies.
" Close your eyes, Harry," Draco murmured, and Harry obeyed. Very slowly, Draco brought Harry's head down so it rested against his shoulder. The tension in Harry's body began to lessen, the corded muscle of his neck and shoulders seeming to melt beneath Draco's fingers. Draco continued to stroke Harry's back, feeling his way along his spine, and then up to the nape where he gently fingered soft strands of dark hair.
Draco felt it. That moment where Harry surrendered all control, all thought, and gave himself over entirely into Draco's protection. It stunned him for a moment: the tenderness of feeling when Harry turned his head and nuzzled gently under Draco's chin, and the way Harry's body became a heavy, warm weight, pressing against Draco in utter abandon. Draco's hold instinctively tightened. They were now closely enjoined, their legs intertwined, and somehow the music was unimportant, the crowd nonexistent. When Harry sighed, Draco felt it rush over his skin, and it made him gasp. He would have liked to shut his eyes, the way Harry's were, and savour every touch, but he felt responsible for Harry's condition. His grip grew fiercer with every look that someone threw at them, whether it was a look of appreciation, or unsettlement, because for once, he was the protector. Was this what Harry needed the most? Someone to take care of him for a change? Because, at this moment, Draco felt that he could do that; what was more, he wanted to be the person Harry leaned on. It was that strange paradox of giving strength, and becoming stronger for it.
" You know how we were saying that Draco was pretty arrogant to ignore our advice about dancing with Harry?" Tim asked Mike. Mike was all but falling asleep in his chair, leaning heavily against Tim who had wrapped a strong arm across the smaller man's shoulders.
" Yeah," Mike responded.
" Remember how we said that he was going to regret being on the dance floor with the Klutz-King?"
" Right," Mike said, yawning widely.
" I think we owe him an apology," Tim said, gesturing. Mike looked up and despite his sleepiness he sat up straight and gaped.
" Harry is dancing," Mike observed. " Well."
" You know what I'm thinking now Mike?"
" Illuminate me."
" I think Harry's finally met his match. Draco's gotten this far, he might just be able to go the whole way."
" Our little Harry actually looks happy," Mike said, snuggling back up to Tim, eyes shining brightly as he looked with fondness at the oblivious couple. " It's great, isn't it?"
" Let's hope Harry doesn't find a way of screwing it up."
The music stopped, then started again, but the couple in the middle of it all, ignored it. Harry adjusted his hold around Draco's waist, nudging his shirt up slightly by accident in the process. Harry's fingers rested tranquilly on the exposed skin, making Draco feel like he was being slowly burned from the outside in. His heart rate increased, and a flush stole over his cheeks. His own fingers found their way deeper into Harry's hair, revelling in the contrast between the cool strands of silk, and the warm curve of Harry's head. Draco thought he heard Harry whimper, and he began whispering and humming nonsense sounds in Harry's ear. When Harry shuddered he just squeezed him tighter. It was a dance like no other; one that had nothing to do with steps, but everything to do with anticipating what was needed. Right now, Draco needed someone to focus his attention on and Harry… Harry needed to know it was okay just to be held.
Next Chapter: Dudley, and punches, and kisses, oh my. Review? Feel free to threaten me - I need the motivation!
