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Chapter 6: This Song and Dance
"What have I done to you?
That you make everything I fear and everything I dread come true?"
- Joni Mitchell, The Sire of Sorrow (Job's Sad Song)
It happened during Transfiguration, which the Slytherins took with the Hufflepuffs, on a Monday two weeks after Harry and Draco's encounter over the Givers; it was now approaching the end of November and there had been three evening in which Draco had gone on what Harry had now dubbed 'missions'.
Draco was hunched down in his seat, his long legs reaching far out in front of him and tapping his parchment with his quill. Professor McGonagall was droning on in her scratchy, high pitched voice. Draco generally quite liked being in class - it was an opportunity to relax, to learn, to be left alone, to escape a role in which he had to constantly berate and bagger people (and while he was mostly indifferent to the suffering he caused in others, it was a role he would have preferred to assume defensively, not offensively). It was a relief to be passive for once and to just absorb the knowledge that came at him; given his obvious absorption in his classes, it was of little surprise to anyone that Draco was the top of all his classes, save those he had with Granger. He was a little bitter that she always managed to best him, but not too much so, for ultimately he learned for himself, not for his grades.
So he actually ignored the first hex that came his way. A small flick of his wand and a few quietly muttered words stopped his shoes from tying themselves together. But the second hex couldn't be ignored, for it stood his precious hair straight up and caught the attention of both Crabbe and Goyle; furthermore, it was accompanied by the quite audible hiss of "death eater, scum!".
Lightening reflexes forced him to take up the role in which he lived most of his life and he shot up from his desk, whipping around to face his tormentor as he did so. His wand was out almost instantly, and pointed at the hate filled face of one of his Hufflepuff classmates. "Canineus Grossae!"
The Hufflepuff, a brief look of shock flickering across his face, promptly crumpled and slipped from his chair. His back arched and his body shuddered, shrinking and sprouting fur until only the fattest dog anyone had ever seen lay sprawled on the floor, struggling within human clothes and Hufflepuff robes. Crabbe and Goyle were guffawing hysterically and a number of the other Slytherins were cheering and laughing. Several of the Hufflepuff were starting to their feet, looking furious.
"MISTER MALFOY!," Professor McGonagall thundered, for voice freezing the Hufflepuffs in their seats and silencing the Sytheirns. Malfoy turned slowly to face her, running his hand through his hair once to slick it back down. "Just what do you think you are doing?"
"That Hufflepuff cur hexed my hair," Draco sneered. One of the Slytherins snickered.
"That is no excuse, Mister Malfoy! And worse, you know better! Fifty points from Slytherin. And a week of detentions with. . . No! I have a better idea. Instead of detentions, your punishment will be to perform in the talent show on Friday. And it better be good, Mister Malfoy, and at least ten minutes long!"
Draco looked slightly ruffled, in a way that detentions wouldn't have been able to ruffle him, and Professor McGonagall looked distinctly smug.
*
The Hufflepuff was, of course, quickly returned to human form, though probably having failed to learn not to mess with Malfoy. Times were tense, these days, and people were scared. The state of the wizarding community was not general knowledge, but the fear and suspicion so prevalent on the outside could not help but permeate Hogwarts too. The incident in Transfiguration was not the first to occur. A few others, and not all Slytherins, had been harassed for being suspected death eaters - Draco's retaliation had only been the most drastic. Rumors flew around the school faster than one could even think possible.
"You wouldn't believe what happened today in the other Transfiguration class!," Seamus loudly announced.
"What?," Ron asked disinterestedly between the mouths full of food he was shovelling into his mouth.
"Malfoy turned that chunky Hufflepuff, McCleod, into a fat pug dog!"
Ron laughed so hard, food flew out of his mouth and splattered all over the boy sitting across from him, causing Hermione to roll her eyes. "Ron!," Harry fumed, picking the food blobs off of his robes. "It wasn't that funny!"
"Wait! It gets better!," Seamus continued. "Malfoy's punishment. . . is to perform in the talent show on Friday!"
This time, both Harry and Hermione joined Ron in heaving, breathless laughter, as did a number of other Gryffindors sitting nearby. The talent show had been the brainchild of the teachers and the Prefects (though, as Head Boy, Draco had objected even at the idea's inception), as a way to get the students' minds off the bleakness outside. And right now, the idea was certainly succeeding.
Harry looked over to the Slytherin table, where Draco was scowling and looking quite annoyed as Crabbe and Goyle recounted their version of the story (he could tell because they were practically yelling and attempting to act it out). Pansy appeared to be trying to comfort him, whispering in his ear, clinging to him arm, and generally behaving in a manner that displeased Harry, though he couldn't really imagine why he should care. Pansy was suddenly just so. . . irritating.
Draco was keeping a tight reign on his temper. What he really wanted to do, however, was vaporize that stupid fat Hufflepuff for being an interfering bastard. Then he would pulverize his two stupid fat henchmen for being loud and obnoxious death eaters. It was definitely not a good day to be stupid and fat (though when is it ever?).
Pansy, however, was both clever and thin - well, as thin as one can be when one is endowed with the most incredible set of breasts Draco had ever had the pleasure to encounter; and not to mention a voluptuous ass to match. In fact, Draco quite liked Pansy, and not just because she was hot. She reminded him of himself: she was scathing and sharp on the outside, but she was vulnerable on the inside, and, somewhere in the deepest recesses of her soul, where her parents' poison could never reach, she was even a good person. He had been able to touch her there, years ago, as she had been able to touch him. It had been a pretty much platonic relationship, but they had managed to love in each other, amidst the trustless sea of Slytherins. But in the end, it had hurt them both too much to be together, for Draco had too many secrets and Pansy was too weak, and these were barriers that both proved too afraid (or maybe just too young) to break down.
Still, a special relationship existed between them, though they spent little actual time together anymore, and both knew that they had had their chance and that there could not be another. On Draco's part, their relationship involved helping Pansy with potions and DADA, coupled with a number of attempts to demolish any and all of Pansy's love interests. And surprisingly, the latter was something that Pansy actually appreciated (after getting over the anger), for it was proof that he still cared and she knew that whatever was left between her and Draco was still worth more than her passing infatuations with, say, a particular Hufflepuff. She herself would also have been jealous of any of Draco's love interests, had he ever appeared to have any (which he never had).
So, despite his irritation, Draco was grateful that Pansy was there next to him, wrapped around his arm and whispering scathing, but very amusing insults (directed primarily at Crabbe and Goyle) in his ear. Soon enough, he fowl mood eased and his mind began to stew on more practical matter. He suddenly turned to Pansy. "Pansy, I have a proposition for you. If your finished here, would you come up to my room with me?"
"Why, certainly. Anything for you, Draco." Incidentally, Pansy was pretty much the only other person at Hogwarts that called Draco by his first name.
Of course there were loud catcalls and whistles from the nearby Slytherins, drawing the attention of most of the hall, but neither cared and, besides, both were made less suspicious by the appearance of engaging in the occasional romp with one another. From the Gryffindor table, Harry watched them go from amidst a few disgusted comments from his housemates.
*
Several days passed until it was Friday, the day of both the talent show and another one of Draco's late night rendezvous with Voldemort and Harry. It was looking to be another action packed evening/night.
Harry was dying of curiosity (though he was certainly not the only one). In potions, the last class on Fridays, he could no longer restrain himself. "Hey, Malfoy! Going to make a fool of yourself this evening? That ought to be right entertaining."
"If I do, could I join the ranks of you and the Weasel?"
"Hey!," Ron started, but clamped up as Snape and his great billowing cloak strode into the room. Harry gave Draco a big grin before they both turned in their seats to face the front of the room.
That evening brought almost the entire school to the Great Hall. The tables had been removed and the chairs arranged to face the teachers' table, only the teachers' table had been transformed into a large stage with curtains, spotlights (enchanted to follow the performers), and everything. The set up was quite grand, giving the students a sense of wonder to add to their scorn. Maybe they weren't just gathered to watch people make idiots of themselves, maybe there was actually something to see. Even Dumbledore had taken time out of his busy schedule to come watch.
The program began with the two teachers that had agreed to perform - Professor Sprout and Professor McGonagall, the former who claimed to be able to sing (though there was little evidence of this) and the latter who proved to have a fantastic set of lungs, when used on the bagpipe. The two teachers were followed by the students, starting with the youngest years and moving up from there. It was generally agreed that the performances of few first and second year students were atrocious, but talent began to become apparent with the third years. There was singing, dancing, acting, musical instruments, and all sorts of tricks and magic performance, some of which was quite impressive. Ginny Weasley revealed an unexpected calling for comedy, performing a skit with Seamus that had most of the Hall in tears of laughter - though there was some evidence (mainly in the form of suspicious side effects) that Ginny's friends had cast a short lived laughing spell on the entire Hall. Finally, Dean belted out an excellent version of Eminem's "Lose Yourself".
Then Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson were announced, to be performing two pieces. There was some surprise, as no one had suspected that Malfoy would not be performing alone; even the Slytherins had suspected that their recent evenings together had been spent engaged in wild sex.
The lights dimmed, then the spotlights trained themselves on two figures that emerged from behind the back curtains. There were a few scandalized gasps as the two strutted to center stage. Pansy was wearing the bare minimum of clothing - a tiny white miniskirt and a matching tiny tube top that left almost nothing to the imagination (though she certainly had the body to pull it off). Draco was wearing a full length black leather pants, as well as a full length black shirt, and both articles of clothing clung to his body so tightly that they gave everyone a pretty good idea of what they were missing. Anyone who had thought Draco all skin and bones would now have been proven sorely wrong - he was slender, and thin boned, but there was a definite and obvious layer of muscle padding his body. . . as well as a healthy bulge at the junction of his long legs. There was not a soul in that room (save perhaps the teachers) that didn't feel some pangs of lust; and a rush of silent anticipation filled the room.
A soft, sultry beat started up, and the stunning pair began to sway to the music (though 'sway' in no way does justice to the fluidity and eroticism of their movements). After several moments, Draco stilled, then began to sing, in a strong, clear voice:
"You told me once, long ago. . .
That there were things I didn't know."
Completing a breathtaking and straight legged bend to touch the ground, Pansy sung the next line, leaving Draco free to imitate her movement.
"I said then that I loved you anyway,
But that was then and this is today."
Pansy's incredible, very high voice ended, and once again Draco took over:
"Yes, that was then and this now.
I want to love you, but I don't know how."
Pansy had slunk up to Draco and was rubbing herself against him, using him as the pole for her pole dance as he continued with the chorus.
"Tell me your secrets,
Tell me your secrets."
Pansy stilled and finished the chorus as Draco, his head thrown back, proceeded to drag his body down Pansy's.
"Tell me your secrets.
Together we'll face whatever comes next."
Harry was stunned, so stunned that he was frozen to his seat and he could barely think. He was rock hard (though he was not, by far, the only one) and horrified to realize that he didn't know which one of the dancers he wanted to fuck and which one he was jealous of. Maybe both. All he knew was that he was mindlessly horny and furiously jealous, that he wanted to be in a Draco-Pansy sandwich; and that he was staring at Draco's perfect lips as he sung:
"It's years later and you're still haunted.
You're always running,
Never throwing down the gauntlet."
Pansy had been whipping her hair around and practically riding Draco's leg. When her couplet came, Draco hands began to roam her body to the rhythm. (A sudden jerk beside him alerted Harry to the fact that Ron was on the verge of having a conniption. Hermione was just staring with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth.)
"But I can't love no caged animal,
'cause you can't love,
With your back up against the wall."
Draco began singing, leaving Pansy free to ripple her body along Draco's, her ass fitting perfectly into his crotch area. (Harry bit his lip against the ache in his own groin.)
"Tell me, and I won't laugh,
But if you don't,
Then our love won't last."
They sung the chorus together this time, briefly shimmying against each other before ending the song by tenderly holding each other.
"Tell me your secrets,
Tell me your secrets.
Tell me your secrets.
Together we'll face whatever comes next."
There was a slightly traumatized silence, then most of the Great Hall burst in a pandemonium of catcalls, whistles, clapping, and shouts of both appreciation and outrage. When the noise died down somewhat, Draco stepped forwards to announce their next piece (for his detention had stipulated that his performance be no shorter than ten minutes).
"MISTER MALFOY!," McGonagall shouted, looking quite irate and not just a little embarrassed. "That is quite enough! Get off the stage NOW! . . . May decency be spared another such affront."
Draco bowed in acknowledgement, then both he and Pansy bowed deeply to their audience, who had once again started cheering. With that, they left the stage and the Great Hall entirely, abandoning an exceedingly turned on crowd of teenagers to the boring the torture that was supposed to be the seventh year performances. Even Dumbledore's spectacular light and smoke show that concluded the night had nothing on the two Slytherins - they were that hard of an act to follow.
*
Draco met up with Harry at twenty 'til midnight, in the secret Hogsmeade passage. Harry had, in fact, been waiting for Draco, brooding and being generally disturbed by the evening's events.
"Harry. Like the show?," Draco immediately asked upon arrival, pleased with himself and a big evil smirk plastered to his face - a big evil smirk that pissed off Harry to no end.
"I liked Pansy. You just looked like a slut," Harry lied, lashing out, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he felt like kicking himself. He knew Draco well enough at this point to know that this was not a retort to which he would take kindly. And he was right. Draco felt his blood run cold and he felt nausea rise up from his stomach; and he hated himself that he cared what Harry thought of him; that Harry could make him feel that what Harry thought was all that mattered; that a few words for Harry could take his rare self satisfaction and contort it into familiar self disgust.
"If you were anyone else, I would have fucking killed you for that," he replied, his voice soft and dangerous.
Harry immediately recanted. "I'm sorry, Draco. That was uncalled for. You guys were good actually."
Draco nodded, though the apology could not nearly heal the wound of the insult. He sat against the wall, waiting for midnight, when he could apparate away. He had been looking forward to talking and bantering with Harry, but had been quickly cured of that appetite. After a prolonged silence, Harry forced himself to try to make it up to Draco.
"So, is Pansy a death eater?," he asked contritely and curiously.
After a moment, Draco shook his head, then finally looked up at Harry with a small smile on his face. "Pansy is. . . one of the victims of this war. She plays the role she has been given and tries to keep a low profile; but her father and older sister are death eaters, so it's not easy. Pansy is just. . . Pansy. She's sharp and sexy and alive. I don't know how to explain it. She's human, the only one I know. Except maybe you."
"Why aren't you still going out with her then?," Harry asked, finding himself inexplicably and bizarrely pleased that Draco considered him human.
Draco was slightly taken aback by Harry's bluntness, but he answered anyway. "She deserves someone who won't keep secrets from her. And someone who can dedicate their time to her, not suck her into this sick game that is my life. And I suppose I needed someone strong enough to play this sick game with me. But not against me. . . does that make any sense?"
Surprisingly, it did. Harry had never really been in love, but somehow he empathized, for he hoped, deep inside, to find such a kindred spirit. "I get what you're saying."
Draco nodded, then stood, brushing himself off. "Ugh, I really don't want to go tonight. I imagine my father will be rather displeased about tonight's performance. And, of course, one of those fucking snoops will have told him."
Harry frowned, and worry slipped into his voice. "Are you going to be okay?"
Draco looked at him and smirked. "Harry, haven't you learned anything about me? I'm a fucking cockroach. I'm always okay." And with that, he was gone.
*
Draco reapparated later than usual, collapsing to the ground upon appearing. After a short moment of waiting yielded no movement, Harry kneeled next to the crumpled and gently touched his arm. "Draco. . . Draco?"
But there was no response.
XXXXX
Readers: I suppose I owe an apology. Most of this chapter (the talent show and its lead in) is not particularly necessary to the overall plot. It's just that it was part of the story's original inception, so I felt obliged to keep it, out of loyalty. I found the whole talent show scene particularly hard to write, so please be forgiving. I promise 'good' things are coming in the next chapter! (As always, more reviews would be greatly appreciated!)
Reviewers: Thank you, thank you, thank you. I've finally gotten some feedback!
Chapter 6: This Song and Dance
"What have I done to you?
That you make everything I fear and everything I dread come true?"
- Joni Mitchell, The Sire of Sorrow (Job's Sad Song)
It happened during Transfiguration, which the Slytherins took with the Hufflepuffs, on a Monday two weeks after Harry and Draco's encounter over the Givers; it was now approaching the end of November and there had been three evening in which Draco had gone on what Harry had now dubbed 'missions'.
Draco was hunched down in his seat, his long legs reaching far out in front of him and tapping his parchment with his quill. Professor McGonagall was droning on in her scratchy, high pitched voice. Draco generally quite liked being in class - it was an opportunity to relax, to learn, to be left alone, to escape a role in which he had to constantly berate and bagger people (and while he was mostly indifferent to the suffering he caused in others, it was a role he would have preferred to assume defensively, not offensively). It was a relief to be passive for once and to just absorb the knowledge that came at him; given his obvious absorption in his classes, it was of little surprise to anyone that Draco was the top of all his classes, save those he had with Granger. He was a little bitter that she always managed to best him, but not too much so, for ultimately he learned for himself, not for his grades.
So he actually ignored the first hex that came his way. A small flick of his wand and a few quietly muttered words stopped his shoes from tying themselves together. But the second hex couldn't be ignored, for it stood his precious hair straight up and caught the attention of both Crabbe and Goyle; furthermore, it was accompanied by the quite audible hiss of "death eater, scum!".
Lightening reflexes forced him to take up the role in which he lived most of his life and he shot up from his desk, whipping around to face his tormentor as he did so. His wand was out almost instantly, and pointed at the hate filled face of one of his Hufflepuff classmates. "Canineus Grossae!"
The Hufflepuff, a brief look of shock flickering across his face, promptly crumpled and slipped from his chair. His back arched and his body shuddered, shrinking and sprouting fur until only the fattest dog anyone had ever seen lay sprawled on the floor, struggling within human clothes and Hufflepuff robes. Crabbe and Goyle were guffawing hysterically and a number of the other Slytherins were cheering and laughing. Several of the Hufflepuff were starting to their feet, looking furious.
"MISTER MALFOY!," Professor McGonagall thundered, for voice freezing the Hufflepuffs in their seats and silencing the Sytheirns. Malfoy turned slowly to face her, running his hand through his hair once to slick it back down. "Just what do you think you are doing?"
"That Hufflepuff cur hexed my hair," Draco sneered. One of the Slytherins snickered.
"That is no excuse, Mister Malfoy! And worse, you know better! Fifty points from Slytherin. And a week of detentions with. . . No! I have a better idea. Instead of detentions, your punishment will be to perform in the talent show on Friday. And it better be good, Mister Malfoy, and at least ten minutes long!"
Draco looked slightly ruffled, in a way that detentions wouldn't have been able to ruffle him, and Professor McGonagall looked distinctly smug.
*
The Hufflepuff was, of course, quickly returned to human form, though probably having failed to learn not to mess with Malfoy. Times were tense, these days, and people were scared. The state of the wizarding community was not general knowledge, but the fear and suspicion so prevalent on the outside could not help but permeate Hogwarts too. The incident in Transfiguration was not the first to occur. A few others, and not all Slytherins, had been harassed for being suspected death eaters - Draco's retaliation had only been the most drastic. Rumors flew around the school faster than one could even think possible.
"You wouldn't believe what happened today in the other Transfiguration class!," Seamus loudly announced.
"What?," Ron asked disinterestedly between the mouths full of food he was shovelling into his mouth.
"Malfoy turned that chunky Hufflepuff, McCleod, into a fat pug dog!"
Ron laughed so hard, food flew out of his mouth and splattered all over the boy sitting across from him, causing Hermione to roll her eyes. "Ron!," Harry fumed, picking the food blobs off of his robes. "It wasn't that funny!"
"Wait! It gets better!," Seamus continued. "Malfoy's punishment. . . is to perform in the talent show on Friday!"
This time, both Harry and Hermione joined Ron in heaving, breathless laughter, as did a number of other Gryffindors sitting nearby. The talent show had been the brainchild of the teachers and the Prefects (though, as Head Boy, Draco had objected even at the idea's inception), as a way to get the students' minds off the bleakness outside. And right now, the idea was certainly succeeding.
Harry looked over to the Slytherin table, where Draco was scowling and looking quite annoyed as Crabbe and Goyle recounted their version of the story (he could tell because they were practically yelling and attempting to act it out). Pansy appeared to be trying to comfort him, whispering in his ear, clinging to him arm, and generally behaving in a manner that displeased Harry, though he couldn't really imagine why he should care. Pansy was suddenly just so. . . irritating.
Draco was keeping a tight reign on his temper. What he really wanted to do, however, was vaporize that stupid fat Hufflepuff for being an interfering bastard. Then he would pulverize his two stupid fat henchmen for being loud and obnoxious death eaters. It was definitely not a good day to be stupid and fat (though when is it ever?).
Pansy, however, was both clever and thin - well, as thin as one can be when one is endowed with the most incredible set of breasts Draco had ever had the pleasure to encounter; and not to mention a voluptuous ass to match. In fact, Draco quite liked Pansy, and not just because she was hot. She reminded him of himself: she was scathing and sharp on the outside, but she was vulnerable on the inside, and, somewhere in the deepest recesses of her soul, where her parents' poison could never reach, she was even a good person. He had been able to touch her there, years ago, as she had been able to touch him. It had been a pretty much platonic relationship, but they had managed to love in each other, amidst the trustless sea of Slytherins. But in the end, it had hurt them both too much to be together, for Draco had too many secrets and Pansy was too weak, and these were barriers that both proved too afraid (or maybe just too young) to break down.
Still, a special relationship existed between them, though they spent little actual time together anymore, and both knew that they had had their chance and that there could not be another. On Draco's part, their relationship involved helping Pansy with potions and DADA, coupled with a number of attempts to demolish any and all of Pansy's love interests. And surprisingly, the latter was something that Pansy actually appreciated (after getting over the anger), for it was proof that he still cared and she knew that whatever was left between her and Draco was still worth more than her passing infatuations with, say, a particular Hufflepuff. She herself would also have been jealous of any of Draco's love interests, had he ever appeared to have any (which he never had).
So, despite his irritation, Draco was grateful that Pansy was there next to him, wrapped around his arm and whispering scathing, but very amusing insults (directed primarily at Crabbe and Goyle) in his ear. Soon enough, he fowl mood eased and his mind began to stew on more practical matter. He suddenly turned to Pansy. "Pansy, I have a proposition for you. If your finished here, would you come up to my room with me?"
"Why, certainly. Anything for you, Draco." Incidentally, Pansy was pretty much the only other person at Hogwarts that called Draco by his first name.
Of course there were loud catcalls and whistles from the nearby Slytherins, drawing the attention of most of the hall, but neither cared and, besides, both were made less suspicious by the appearance of engaging in the occasional romp with one another. From the Gryffindor table, Harry watched them go from amidst a few disgusted comments from his housemates.
*
Several days passed until it was Friday, the day of both the talent show and another one of Draco's late night rendezvous with Voldemort and Harry. It was looking to be another action packed evening/night.
Harry was dying of curiosity (though he was certainly not the only one). In potions, the last class on Fridays, he could no longer restrain himself. "Hey, Malfoy! Going to make a fool of yourself this evening? That ought to be right entertaining."
"If I do, could I join the ranks of you and the Weasel?"
"Hey!," Ron started, but clamped up as Snape and his great billowing cloak strode into the room. Harry gave Draco a big grin before they both turned in their seats to face the front of the room.
That evening brought almost the entire school to the Great Hall. The tables had been removed and the chairs arranged to face the teachers' table, only the teachers' table had been transformed into a large stage with curtains, spotlights (enchanted to follow the performers), and everything. The set up was quite grand, giving the students a sense of wonder to add to their scorn. Maybe they weren't just gathered to watch people make idiots of themselves, maybe there was actually something to see. Even Dumbledore had taken time out of his busy schedule to come watch.
The program began with the two teachers that had agreed to perform - Professor Sprout and Professor McGonagall, the former who claimed to be able to sing (though there was little evidence of this) and the latter who proved to have a fantastic set of lungs, when used on the bagpipe. The two teachers were followed by the students, starting with the youngest years and moving up from there. It was generally agreed that the performances of few first and second year students were atrocious, but talent began to become apparent with the third years. There was singing, dancing, acting, musical instruments, and all sorts of tricks and magic performance, some of which was quite impressive. Ginny Weasley revealed an unexpected calling for comedy, performing a skit with Seamus that had most of the Hall in tears of laughter - though there was some evidence (mainly in the form of suspicious side effects) that Ginny's friends had cast a short lived laughing spell on the entire Hall. Finally, Dean belted out an excellent version of Eminem's "Lose Yourself".
Then Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson were announced, to be performing two pieces. There was some surprise, as no one had suspected that Malfoy would not be performing alone; even the Slytherins had suspected that their recent evenings together had been spent engaged in wild sex.
The lights dimmed, then the spotlights trained themselves on two figures that emerged from behind the back curtains. There were a few scandalized gasps as the two strutted to center stage. Pansy was wearing the bare minimum of clothing - a tiny white miniskirt and a matching tiny tube top that left almost nothing to the imagination (though she certainly had the body to pull it off). Draco was wearing a full length black leather pants, as well as a full length black shirt, and both articles of clothing clung to his body so tightly that they gave everyone a pretty good idea of what they were missing. Anyone who had thought Draco all skin and bones would now have been proven sorely wrong - he was slender, and thin boned, but there was a definite and obvious layer of muscle padding his body. . . as well as a healthy bulge at the junction of his long legs. There was not a soul in that room (save perhaps the teachers) that didn't feel some pangs of lust; and a rush of silent anticipation filled the room.
A soft, sultry beat started up, and the stunning pair began to sway to the music (though 'sway' in no way does justice to the fluidity and eroticism of their movements). After several moments, Draco stilled, then began to sing, in a strong, clear voice:
"You told me once, long ago. . .
That there were things I didn't know."
Completing a breathtaking and straight legged bend to touch the ground, Pansy sung the next line, leaving Draco free to imitate her movement.
"I said then that I loved you anyway,
But that was then and this is today."
Pansy's incredible, very high voice ended, and once again Draco took over:
"Yes, that was then and this now.
I want to love you, but I don't know how."
Pansy had slunk up to Draco and was rubbing herself against him, using him as the pole for her pole dance as he continued with the chorus.
"Tell me your secrets,
Tell me your secrets."
Pansy stilled and finished the chorus as Draco, his head thrown back, proceeded to drag his body down Pansy's.
"Tell me your secrets.
Together we'll face whatever comes next."
Harry was stunned, so stunned that he was frozen to his seat and he could barely think. He was rock hard (though he was not, by far, the only one) and horrified to realize that he didn't know which one of the dancers he wanted to fuck and which one he was jealous of. Maybe both. All he knew was that he was mindlessly horny and furiously jealous, that he wanted to be in a Draco-Pansy sandwich; and that he was staring at Draco's perfect lips as he sung:
"It's years later and you're still haunted.
You're always running,
Never throwing down the gauntlet."
Pansy had been whipping her hair around and practically riding Draco's leg. When her couplet came, Draco hands began to roam her body to the rhythm. (A sudden jerk beside him alerted Harry to the fact that Ron was on the verge of having a conniption. Hermione was just staring with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth.)
"But I can't love no caged animal,
'cause you can't love,
With your back up against the wall."
Draco began singing, leaving Pansy free to ripple her body along Draco's, her ass fitting perfectly into his crotch area. (Harry bit his lip against the ache in his own groin.)
"Tell me, and I won't laugh,
But if you don't,
Then our love won't last."
They sung the chorus together this time, briefly shimmying against each other before ending the song by tenderly holding each other.
"Tell me your secrets,
Tell me your secrets.
Tell me your secrets.
Together we'll face whatever comes next."
There was a slightly traumatized silence, then most of the Great Hall burst in a pandemonium of catcalls, whistles, clapping, and shouts of both appreciation and outrage. When the noise died down somewhat, Draco stepped forwards to announce their next piece (for his detention had stipulated that his performance be no shorter than ten minutes).
"MISTER MALFOY!," McGonagall shouted, looking quite irate and not just a little embarrassed. "That is quite enough! Get off the stage NOW! . . . May decency be spared another such affront."
Draco bowed in acknowledgement, then both he and Pansy bowed deeply to their audience, who had once again started cheering. With that, they left the stage and the Great Hall entirely, abandoning an exceedingly turned on crowd of teenagers to the boring the torture that was supposed to be the seventh year performances. Even Dumbledore's spectacular light and smoke show that concluded the night had nothing on the two Slytherins - they were that hard of an act to follow.
*
Draco met up with Harry at twenty 'til midnight, in the secret Hogsmeade passage. Harry had, in fact, been waiting for Draco, brooding and being generally disturbed by the evening's events.
"Harry. Like the show?," Draco immediately asked upon arrival, pleased with himself and a big evil smirk plastered to his face - a big evil smirk that pissed off Harry to no end.
"I liked Pansy. You just looked like a slut," Harry lied, lashing out, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he felt like kicking himself. He knew Draco well enough at this point to know that this was not a retort to which he would take kindly. And he was right. Draco felt his blood run cold and he felt nausea rise up from his stomach; and he hated himself that he cared what Harry thought of him; that Harry could make him feel that what Harry thought was all that mattered; that a few words for Harry could take his rare self satisfaction and contort it into familiar self disgust.
"If you were anyone else, I would have fucking killed you for that," he replied, his voice soft and dangerous.
Harry immediately recanted. "I'm sorry, Draco. That was uncalled for. You guys were good actually."
Draco nodded, though the apology could not nearly heal the wound of the insult. He sat against the wall, waiting for midnight, when he could apparate away. He had been looking forward to talking and bantering with Harry, but had been quickly cured of that appetite. After a prolonged silence, Harry forced himself to try to make it up to Draco.
"So, is Pansy a death eater?," he asked contritely and curiously.
After a moment, Draco shook his head, then finally looked up at Harry with a small smile on his face. "Pansy is. . . one of the victims of this war. She plays the role she has been given and tries to keep a low profile; but her father and older sister are death eaters, so it's not easy. Pansy is just. . . Pansy. She's sharp and sexy and alive. I don't know how to explain it. She's human, the only one I know. Except maybe you."
"Why aren't you still going out with her then?," Harry asked, finding himself inexplicably and bizarrely pleased that Draco considered him human.
Draco was slightly taken aback by Harry's bluntness, but he answered anyway. "She deserves someone who won't keep secrets from her. And someone who can dedicate their time to her, not suck her into this sick game that is my life. And I suppose I needed someone strong enough to play this sick game with me. But not against me. . . does that make any sense?"
Surprisingly, it did. Harry had never really been in love, but somehow he empathized, for he hoped, deep inside, to find such a kindred spirit. "I get what you're saying."
Draco nodded, then stood, brushing himself off. "Ugh, I really don't want to go tonight. I imagine my father will be rather displeased about tonight's performance. And, of course, one of those fucking snoops will have told him."
Harry frowned, and worry slipped into his voice. "Are you going to be okay?"
Draco looked at him and smirked. "Harry, haven't you learned anything about me? I'm a fucking cockroach. I'm always okay." And with that, he was gone.
*
Draco reapparated later than usual, collapsing to the ground upon appearing. After a short moment of waiting yielded no movement, Harry kneeled next to the crumpled and gently touched his arm. "Draco. . . Draco?"
But there was no response.
XXXXX
Readers: I suppose I owe an apology. Most of this chapter (the talent show and its lead in) is not particularly necessary to the overall plot. It's just that it was part of the story's original inception, so I felt obliged to keep it, out of loyalty. I found the whole talent show scene particularly hard to write, so please be forgiving. I promise 'good' things are coming in the next chapter! (As always, more reviews would be greatly appreciated!)