A/N: Hello, all! I believe last chapter featured a rather confused Draco. In this chapter we'll get to see what Harry thinks of Draco's odd behavior. Keep in mind that this chapter is more about Harry's thoughts than his actions. You're about to see a mildly darker side to Harry in this chapter. Now here's chapter thirteen (thank you very much reviewers. You have no idea how insecure I was about chapter twelve and what reactions I'd get...)!

Disclaimer: The lyrics I used in this chapter are from "Learning To Fly," by Pink Floyd, and "Coma White," by Marilyn Manson (good songs! I demand you listen to them! In fact, you should find a way to listen to every single song I've mentioned so far, and every song I mention in the future!).

0000

Chapter Thirteen

"Don't overkill this painless thrill

It's bitter still, your pretty pill

You wait until you've had your fill

I know you will"

"Shallow Bay," Breaking Benjamin

Harry was staring at the canopy of his bed, hoping it would give him some kind of clue as to what the hell had happened between him and... Malfoy. He wasn't about to call Malfoy anything other than Malfoy until he found out whether or not Malfoy wanted him to. And that didn't even make sense. Maybe his mind was muddled because it was late. Maybe he needed more sleep. Maybe he was going insane. Maybe he was going insane because he'd left his damned cigarettes in his damned sweatshirt, whichMalfoy had grabbed during his hasty retreat. Not that he himself hadn't run away plenty of times. But this wasthe first time for Malfoy, and it scared him. If Malfoy broke down, then the deal was definitely over. It was obvious that Malfoy accepted, even expected, Harry's frequent insecurities and moral attacks. But if Malfoy was fucked up enough in the head to run away... then the deal was as good as gone. And Harry felt miserable. And he was not going to go out with any of the girls Lavender continued to throw at him. Sex just wasn't worth that kind of torture.

"What's going on, Harry?" Ron called sleepily from his bed.

"Huh?"

"You were groaning. It woke me up."

"Oh, sorry."

"It's okay. But what's wrong?" Ron persisted.

Harry could hear him sit up in bed. "Nothing. Bad dream. Just woke up."

"Dreams?" Ron asked.

Harry could sense the slight twinge of fear and concern in his best friend's tone. "Nothing You Know Who related, Ron," Harry sighed. "Just go back to sleep, okay?"

"...Okay. But, seriously, if something's bothering you, Harry..."

"I know. I'll talk to you, okay?" And he knew Ron was nodding and slowly lying back down. He rolled over onto his side and held back another groan. Because he'd never be able to talk about what was really bothering him. He couldn't talk to anybody except the one person that actually was the problem. The person that had actually said... his name... and had run away like hell was after him, his eyes almost as wide as Dobby's.

Harry closed his eyes, slowly drifting off to sleep. There were three different possible scenarios that could occur the following morning, as far as he knew. Either Malfoy would recover the same way he had several times before and pretend nothing had happened, the deal would be over, or things would... change...

0000

Harry waited until Malfoy exited Professor Binns' classroom, then yanked him aside into a darkened corner that was sheltered by a gigantic potted plant. He studied Malfoy for a second, then opened his mouth to speak...

But Malfoy beat him to it. "Not one word about last night, Potter," Malfoy growled quietly, "or I'll hex you into next week."

Harry's eyebrows raised. "I actually wasn't going to say anything about last night. Except for now, since I just inadvertently mentioned it. And now I'm sort of talking around the subject, so..."

Malfoy covered Harry's mouth with his hand. "What part of shut up don't you understand?" he hissed.

Harry mumbled something into Malfoy's hand.

"What?" Malfoy asked, taking his hand away.

"You didn't exactly tell me to shut up. You just told me not to mention... you know what." Harry shrugged.

Malfoy's eyebrows raised. "What's gotten into you?"

"Well, I am a bit tipsy, aren't I?" Harry asked. "I sort of stumbled across Seamus' supply of alcohol. And by stumbled I mean I opened his trunk, dug to the bottom of his mountain of clothes, and pulled out a bottle of Bicardi and a bottle of Coke." He giggled. "I just wanted to ask you something."

"Yes," Malfoy replied grimly, "right." He grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him into Professor Binns' classroom; Binns didn't have a class to teach this period, and when Binns didn't have a class, he went... wherever it was that ghosts went when they weren't around people. Malfoy shut the door behind them and pushed Harry into a chair.

Harry flopped into the chair awkwardly. "I came to ask you something," he said. "Did I already say that?"

Malfoy shrugged, studying Harry, an odd expression on his face. Or maybe Harry just thought he looked odd because he'd consumed the entire bottle of Bicardi. And the Coke was something to be reckoned with as well; caffeine did things to him. Harry let a loud burst of laughter escape his lips. "You took my sweatshirt last night. The one with my cigarettes." Harry squinted at Malfoy, leaning forward. "You're wearing it, aren't you?" he asked.

"No," Malfoy said, crossing his arms slowly.

Harry lunged clumsily out of the chair and more or less fell against Malfoy, tugging down on his robes until the sleeve of his most prized sweatshirt was exposed. "Yes you are," he commented, as if Malfoy might have actually not known this bit of information.

Malfoy looked down at the warm, bulky fabric. "So I am," he said.

"Are my cigarettes still in the pocket?" Harry asked.

"Cigarettes..." Malfoy said slowly, reaching into the pocket. He felt around for the carton, then pulled it out slowly and handed it to Harry.

Harry fumbled with the carton for a few seconds, trying to open it in his drunken state, then clumsily took out a cigarette and put it between his lips. He looked up at Malfoy. "You wouldn't mind lighting this for me, would you?" he asked.

"What, no wand?" Malfoy asked, not sounding in the least bit surprised. He took his wand out of his robes and aimed it at the tip of Harry's cigarette. "Incendio," he said, lighting it.

Harry nodded his thanks and took a long drag, greedily sucking the obscenely large amount of chemicals a single cigarette contained into his lungs. He exhaled slowly, holding the cigarette loosely between his index and middle finger, and closed his eyes. "Damn, I needed one of these."

"They'll kill you, you know," Malfoy said tonelessly, putting his wand back into his pocket.

"What, and alcohol won't?" Harry retorted. "Killing your liver is just as effective as killing your lungs." He brought the cigarette back to his lips and inhaled long and deep.

"Yes, and you seem intent on killing both," Malfoy commented, pulling out the travel-size bottle of vodka that Harry had shoved into the pocket of his Korn sweatshirt the day before. "Really, Potter, travel-size?"

"It's rather hard for me to get alcohol, what with my being so recognizable and all," Harry replied calmly, his words still slightly slurred. "So if you'd give me the pathetic amount I was, in fact, able to get a hold of..."

"Well, you appear rather drunk now," Malfoy observed, tossing Harry the vodka.

"Seamus doesn't have a problem with getting alcohol. In fact, the people at the bar he goes to really love him. They call him The Irishman." Harry laughed. "They like to get Seamus drunk on his ass and dare him to do things that are pretty much impossible. Seamus makes them rich when he visits the bar."

"And what about you?"

"The regulars keep quiet. I just wear an oversized hat and clothes like this," Harry indicated his rather nondescript ensemble; he definitely wouldn't have been given a second glance in a crowd, "and nobody notices me."

"Hm. Have you ever been to the Phoenix's Tear?" Malfoy asked.

"That's the bar where Seamus, Dean, and I are considered regulars," Harry laughed. "The Phoenix Tear. 'We may not be able to cure what plagues you...'"

"'...but we can sure as hell help you forget about it," Malfoy finished the bar's slogan, the corners of his lips tugging upward almost imperceptibly. "I never would have thought of you as a regular at a place like that."

"You and nearly everybody else in the wizarding world," Harry replied, waving his hand dismissively. "They don't know I smoke, they don't know I drink, they don't know I'm not a virgin... or that I prefer to fuck boys, for that matter... and they definitely do not know where I go on Friday and Saturday nights... when I'm not with you." Harry grinned devilishly and finished off his cigarette.

"And where might that be?" Malfoy asked, studying his fingernails.

"Well, besides the Phoenix Tear, Seamus, Dean, and I sneak out and go to Deity," Harry replied, closing his eyes and smiling as if remembering something pleasant.

"Deity?" Malfoy looked up sharply.

"It's a wizarding dance club in Knockturn Alley," Harry explained.

"I know. What do you go there for?"

"Well, besides dancing... which is obvious, considering it's a dance club... we drink the ungodly concoction they call 'Ambrosia' until closing time. Or until we get thrown out. Whichever comes first." Harry frowned, then smiled again.

Malfoy shook his head. "I definitely did not know this about you."

"Of course you didn't. It's not like I want people to know this about me." Harry let his cigarette fall to the floor and he smashed it with the heel of his skater shoes. "I'm going to assume you go there often as well...?"

"A few times a month," Malfoy replied. "I've never actually tried their Ambrosia. I was advised against it."

"Huh, you have to have a strong stomach." Harry paused, then added, "Actually, you have to have a strong everything."

"And you do?" Malfoy inquired.

"Now I do," Harry replied honestly. "The first time we went to Deity, we stayed away from the brew like you did because we were advised against it. By the fifth or sixth time we went, Seamus was itching to find out what the hell the big deal was, and he convinced me to try it with him." Harry smirked. "By morning we were puking outeverythingin our stomachs and then some in adjacent stalls. After cursing Seamus for three days straight, we went back to Deity and drank more."

"Idiot," Malfoy chuckled.

"Yeah. But, you see, it's addictive. We got Dean to try the stuff and now he's hooked, too. It's not the bending over the toilet all morning while experiencing the worst hangover you've ever had. It's the sensation you get before all of that." Harry looked up at Malfoy. "Have you ever tried Ecstasy?"

"Yes," Malfoy admitted. "They sell like hot cakes at Deity."

"I know. That's because drug dealers are trying to keep up with the club's Ambrosia. And for those that have actually tried the drink, the dealers are failing miserably."

"That good, huh?"

"Take every sensation you experience while under the influence of Ecstasy and multiply it by... Merlin, I can't even describe it. It's one of those things you can only truly understand if you experience it yourself."

"Maybe I'll have to chance the wretching in the bathroom all night."

"There's no chance of it. You will."

Malfoy grimaced. "I'll have to wait until the usual crowd is too drugged up to notice, then." He studied Harry for a second. "Now I know why you didn't come to classes today. You're obviously drunk."

"And I didn't do a damned thing as far as homework is concerned last night," Harry added. "I've found that just skipping classes is easier than not turning in homework." He drained the meager contents of the vodka bottle, then settled more comfortably into the chair. "I just come up with some excuse about being sick or something like that."

"And they buy it?" Malfoy snorted. "Who's Slipknot, anyway?" he asked, gesturing toward Harry's T-shirt.

"A band," Harry replied.

"Of course, smart ass," Malfoy drawled. "Are they any good?"

"Would I be wearing a T-shirt with their logo on it if they weren't?"

"No."

"Well, there you go then. I'd have thought you'd know, what with Deity playing their music all the time."

Malfoy shrugged. "I don't bother with finding out the names of songs or bands. I just listen to the music there, that's all."

"Dean goes to Deity specifically for the music. He convinces the DJs to make special mixes for him."

"Convinces?" Malfoy asked, raising his eyebrow suggestively.

"If you knew Dean, you'd know he doesn't need to persuade them that way. If he goes out for a Muggle profession when he's out of school, he's definitely going to be a lawyer or something like that." Harry grinned. "Now, Seamus is the one that goes there for that kind ofaction. And the alcohol."

"And what do you go to Deity for?" Malfoy asked, leaning against the wall.

Harry shrugged. "A combination of all three, actually. But mainly dancing. I dance from opening hour until closing time."

"And you don't get tired?"

"Not a chance in hell. Especially if I've got Ambrosia running through my system. Oh, and if you ever decide to try Ambrosia, do not mix it with Ecstasy unless you're attempting suicide."

"Personal experience?"

"Not me directly. One of the regulars that Dean, Seamus, and I hang out with there tried it. He made it to St. Mungo's just in time. He can't even drink Coke now without shaking, and he can't dance for more than one song. If that long."

"Do not take Ambrosia with Ecstasy unless I have a death wish. Got it."

"But if you want to lessen the effects of the Ambrosia, drink a shot... and no more than a shot... of Jack Daniel's."

"And what happens if I drink more than a shot?" Malfoy inquired.

"Your system gets so fucked up you won't be able to sleep for at least a week," Harry replied calmly.

"I'm not all too sure how I feel about getting instructions on what drugs work the best from the Golden Boy," Malfoy said wryly.

"I'm not all too sure how I feel about having to give them to a Slytherin," Harry retorted, standing up. "I'm going to go upstairs and sleep before the alcohol wears off."

"Wait," Malfoy said, placing his hand on Harry's arm. Harry merely raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "When do you plan on going to Deity again?" Malfoy asked casually.

Harry grinned. "Why do you think I started getting drunk now?" he asked. "I'm trying to get my stomach ready for tonight's round of Ambrosia."

"Maybe I'll see you there, then." Malfoy removed his hand from Harry's arm.

Harry nodded. "Maybe. Perhaps I'll even dance with you." And with that, he exited the room. An odd, warm, tingling sensation seemed to shoot through his veins and straight to his groin. Dancing with Malfoy was a rather appealing thought.

0000

"Did you hear Ron snoring?" Seamus asked, giggling.

"Are you kidding?" Dean said incredulously. "Who didn't hear him? He made the windows rattle."

"And he was blowing bubbles, too," Seamus said.

"Shut up," Harry said. "This cloak makes you invisible, not soundless."

"Sorry," Seamus whispered loudly, taking a swig from a flask of R & R.

"Dean, take that away from him," Harry commanded half-heartedly.

Seamus only tried to yank the bottle away, making the cloak jerk off of them partially.

"Seamus!" Dean and Harry hissed simultaneously.

"Sorry again." Seamus' apology was broken by a hiccup.

"Anymore of this and I'll tell the bartender to refuse to give you any Ambrosia," Dean threatened, readjusting the cloak so it covered them again. Seamus instantly shut up and put the bottle of whiskey away.

Harry chuckled. "Good one, Dean."

"Yes, I thought so."

The three of them made their way to Hogwarts' exit slowly, stopping every once and awhile to make sure the corridors were really empty; you just never knew sometimes. When they finally left the castle, they made their way to a large boulder situated to their left and pushed it aside, which was an easy task since the boulder only looked heavy due to a magical illusion. An entrance to an underground tunnel was revealed, and they each jumped into the tunnel with Dean entering last, rolling the boulder back over the entrance to cover it up. After muttering "lumos" to light the way, Harry led the way through the tunnel that would take them a block away from Deity.

"You know, Harry, you really do look great," Seamus purred, stumbling along the tunnel behind him.

Harry turned around so he was walking backward and looked at Dean over Seamus' head. They both rolled their eyes at each other, then winked; Seamus thought anything looked good when he was drunk. Harry turned back around just in time to climb up the rickety ladder that brought him up to the exit of the tunnel, which was covered with a wooden circle that was magicked to look like a patch of grass. He pulled himself out onto the miniature "garden" that had been added to make the neighborhood look more people friendly, but only served to remind everyone of how dingy and shady it really was. Sure enough, some stupid kid had pulled a juvenile stunt by adding detergent to the water fountain yet again. Harry stepped out of the rising mass of soap and helped Seamus up to his feet. Dean leaped out of the hole behind them and quickly sealed it off. "Let's get going," he said, looking around nervously. He wasn't afraid of the "gangsters," he was afraid of the prostitutes. They were scary bitches who had you pantsless on the floor and coming before you even knew you'd actually seen them. And then they took your wallet.

"They won't come after you if you blend in, remember?" Harry reminded Dean. They'd discovered that if you looked like you were actually a part of the neighborhood, nobody bothered you. So they'd taken to dressing up like they belonged there. So Dean was decked out in a Metallica T-shirt with ripped up jeans... and high-heeled shoes, a head band with a pink bow at the top, and a gold heart locket. And Seamus had spiked up his hair with strong-holding gel so his head looked like a pincushion. He was wearinga tight, black muscle shirt, a sequined, iridescent black skirt, and black combat boots with the laces undone. Harry, who felt alive and anonymous when he came to Deity, had donned the obvious baggy black T-shirt sporting the logo of one of his favorite bands... Alice In Chains... with baggy black jeans that were weighed down with an unseemly amount of chains... one of which attached his wallet securely to one of his pockets... and the typical skater shoes. And he had decided to accessorize with identical red and black striped socks that he had cut up to cover his arms from his elbows to the beginnings of his fingers, a silver chain necklace and a black stud collar, and a single silver hoop earring accompanied by a fake diamond stud in his right earlobe. And all three of them wore make-up; black lipstick, black eyeshadow, black eyeliner, black mascara, black nail polish, and lots and lots of glitter. If you didn't wear glitter, then you were not a regular.

"How do I look?" Seamus asked.

"Like everybody else," Dean replied. "Scary."

"You mean gay?" Seamus asked.

"Not everybody looks gay."

"The regulars do."

"Yeah," Dean conceded, "they do." He shrugged, sighing. The funny thing about Dean's attraction to Deity was that he really did come for the music, and the music alone; Deity was a flamingly gay, freakishly Goth dance club, but Dean was, without a doubt, not gay or Goth. Which was hard to believe when you took in his high-heeled pumps, pink head band, and heart locket. He adjusted his head band, then merged into the long line of people that were waiting to get into the club. Harry and Seamus entered the line next to him. After what seemed like forever, but was probably really only a little under five minutes, one of the bouncers noticed them and waved them up to the front of the line. They shoved their way through the crowd, ignoring the angry glares they got from other people waiting to get in. When they reached the bouncer, he nodded. "Haven't seen you in awhile," he said.

"You miss us?" Seamus asked, winking flirtatiously.

The bouncer ignored this comment and turned to a guy standing next to him, who was obviously newly recruited to the security team. "These three guys are cool," the bouncer said to him, gesturing toward Harry, Dean, and Seamus. "If you see them in line, wave 'em up." The recruit nodded, studying the three seventh years intently. The bouncer punched Dean in the arm. "Nice ensemb, Tomas," he said. Dean nodded, and the three of them edged past the bouncers and into the club. When they had come to Deity for the first time, they had decided it would be a good idea to come up with aliases, just in case. So Dean went by Tomas, Seamus went by Dana, and Harry was known as Ash. That way they could do whatever crazy, outlandish things they wanted.

Entering the club, no matter how familiar you were with the setting, was disorienting for a few seconds. The lighting was designed to distort images; lasers moving at alternating speeds, black lights, white lights that flashed so fast it made the people dancing around you look like they were in an old black and white film, disco balls, dry ice, mirrors, and, occasionally, soap suds that poured down from the ceiling. Harry paused at the top of the rickety, black iron stairs for a moment to get his bearings, then descended into the world where he wasn't known as The Boy Who Lived or the Golden Boy. He was simply Ash, the boy who would make out with... and possibly fuck... any guy he found attractive, sing his lungs out to Pink Floyd or Tool on karaoke night, follow through with any dare you gave him, always won any fights anybody provoked him into, and drank you under the table. When Harry was in Deity, he was cool; a respected, bad-ass individual that nobody messed with. And those that didn't know him learned about him pretty quick; either through personal experience, or through a warning from somebody else. Harry came for a good time, and he definitely got it and then some at Deity.

"Drinks!" Seamus yelled loudly over the grinding industrial techno music.

"Yeah, this is definitely a drinking song," Dean agreed. They had managed to categorize the music that was played at Deity into different genres. All of the music was rock-based, but some of it was what they dubbed "have to dance to no matter what you're doing" music, "can dance and socialize to at the same time" music, "can drink and socialize to" music, and "you can go to the bathroom now" music. Usually the drinkworthy music was closely followed by a got to dance song, so the three boys hurried to the bar and ordered the usual round of Ambrosia to start them off.

The man who was tending bar for the night was wiping off glasses with a towel, not really looking at them. "Are you sure? It's pretty powerful shi... oh, hey, guys," he said, laughing. "Never mind, then. First round's on the house." He winked and poured out the trademark club drink. "I've got to warn you about the heroin that's going around, though. If you want to hit any of that tonight..."

Harry... or Ash... shook his head. "Ambrosia's just fine, Patrick," he said.

Patrick nodded. "Here you go." He put the drinks up on the table. Seamus practically snatched one of the glasses out of his hands and tossed it back. He stood absolutely motionless for a few minutes, then blinked and smiled; Ambrosia's effect did not take long. He leaped out onto the dance floor and was swallowed up by the crowd instantly.

Dean consumed his more slowly, taking the time to thank the bartender before he went to dance as well.

Harry wrapped his hands around his glass and slid it toward himself slowly, sitting down on one of the barstools.

"What's up?" Patrick asked, already serving other customers.

"I'm wondering if someone I know is here," Harry replied, sipping at his drink. He liked to feel the liquor trickle down his throat like liquid fire, burning a trail through his veins.

"Well, maybe I can help you out," Patrick said, wiping down the counter space that had been occupied by someone who had just left the bar.

"That's what I was hoping," Harry replied.

"So, what's he look like?" Patrick paused and looked at Ash, going into photographic-memory mode; the beauty about Patrick was that he never forgot a face.

"Blonde hair that comes down to just above the jaw line, pale skin, a few inches taller than me, gray eyes..." He gestured weakly, feeling the Ambrosia going to work.

"If he's here, he hasn't come to the bar yet," Patrick said, shrugging in apology. "I'll let you know if I see him, though."

"Thanks." Harry stood up and made his way over to the dance floor. He was immediately sucked into the crowd, and he used his slight weight to his advantage in order to more or less crowd surf over to the raised dais that was situated in the middle of the huge room and leaped up onto it, immediately moving in time with the fast-paced rhythm of the techno song that was drawing to an end. And Harry was immediately sandwiched between two other guys, who were in turn pressed up next to other people on the platform. And they moved together as one body. And Harry loved it; loved being a part of a crowd. And then the song ended. Butthat was okay, because the next song was by Nine Inch Nails. One of Harry's favorite songs, in fact. He started moving in timeto the slow, grinding, industrial music, relishing in the feel of the percussion and the bass pumping through his veins, pounding in his gut. It was like energy shooting up through his feet to the tips of his hair. And then he felt someone's arms encircle his waist, thumbs rubbing the area just above the waistline of his jeans. He instantly leaned back against the chest of whoever it was, knowing it wasn't Malfoy. Then he turned around to face his dancing partner. He was definitely good-looking; brunette, hazel eyes, much taller than Harry. And he obviously worked out, if the fact that his shirt was off and he was showing offa serious six-pack was any indication. He was probably about Fred and George's age. He grinned up at the stranger, then pressed up against him and resumed dancing, grindinginto him slowly.

Harry wrapped his arms around the guy's neck, pulling down so they moved lower and lower to the dance floor, bending their knees and pumping in time to the music. The closer they came to the floor, the more tightly they pressed together. And then they were kissing, and the stranger was squatting on the floor, his arms spread out behind him to keep his balance, and Harry was more or less straddling his lap, invading his mouth with his tongue. He could taste scotch on his tongue and he soaked it in, still pressing against him in time with the music. The stranger was becoming more and more excited, bucking his hips up against Harry and kissing him enthusiastically. Harry wanted to smirk; you would have thought that he was older.

And then the song ended, and Harry stood up abruptly, reaching out and shaking the hand of the stranger. "Good dance," he said, sounding businesslike. He nodded briefly, then moved further into the crowd on the dais before the stranger... who was now dazed and sprawled out on the floor with an erection that made it seem like he had a small dog in his pants... could protest. A long line of songs that Harry liked... "Man in a Box," by Alice in Chains, "Vermillion," by Slipknot, "Somebody, Someone," by Korn, "Digital Bath," by Deftones, and "Heart-shaped Box," by Nirvana... before a slower song filled the room. He pressed up against a guy who was already dancing with someone else and swayed along with them to the beat of the music. It took a moment for Harry to realize that the notes came together to make up A Perfect Circle's "Weak And Powerless." Harry wrapped his arms more tightly around the waist in front of him and rested his cheek against the guy's shoulder, closing his eyes. After the first verse had passed through, he was compelled to open his eyes. And then he almost stopped dancing, because he saw who the stranger he was pressed up against was dancing with; Malfoy. And Malfoy was looking right back at him.

Harry took in Malfoy's appearance, managing to study him quickly withoutappearing to stare. Malfoy had streaked his white-blonde hair with purple dye, and he was wearing a tight, sheer, silver spandex muscle shirt with a bright orange, long-sleeved, midriff jersey over it. He wore tight, black leather pants that accented his ass in such a way that Harry almost forgot he wasn't supposed to stare, and dragonhide boots. And, instead of the black make-up that Harry had chosen to apply, Malfoy had done his face upin white and purple, and he had applied silvery lip gloss that made his lips iridescent and... as far as Harry was concerned... achingingly kissable. To Harry, Malfoy looked like some kind of shimmering faerie that, while appearing beautiful and angelic, would take you straight to the world of demons as soon as you let your guard down. That was Malfoy in a nutshell. He wasn't dressed up tonight; he was simply himself.

And then Harry was brought out of his trance by another man pressing up against him from behind and wrapping his arms around his chest. "I haven't seen you around for awhile, Ash," he cooed, breathing into his ear seductively. Harry hadn't taken his eyes off of Malfoy. And now Malfoy was looking at Harry, surprise playing at his features. So Malfoy had heard about Ash. Had heard about him. And then Harry wondered what Malfoy had heard about his alternate persona.

"I've got some heroin, baby," the man continued, still speaking into his ear loudly. "You want to goto the back room and shoot some?"

Harry turned his head to look at the man scornfully. "Heroin? You think I'm going to resort to shit like heroin when there's Ambrosia here?" he asked. Sure, he knew he was being an asshole, but the guy was annoying him for some reason. Besides, the last time Harry had been with the creep, he had tried to label him as his boyfriend and told everyone they'd been seeing each other for quite some time. That was the downside to his alter ego; Ash was well-known in the undergroundworld in the way Harry was popular in the mainstream crowds. Whether it was Lavender or the guy that was trying to get him to fuck him again, some people were constantly trying to get some sort of credibility through his celebrity. And he thought that was pathetic. He shrugged off the guy. "Go sell your crap to the whores out on the corner," he snapped. The guy backed off instantly; you didn't piss off Ash. Harry sighed, watching him retreat.

"Jackass," Malfoy shouted.

Harry turned around in surprise.

Malfoy motioned toward the guy. "Him," he mouthed.

Harry nodded. "Who's your friend?" he asked, looking over the shoulder of the guy standing in front of him so he could see his face.

Malfoy shrugged. "Don't know. I think he's too fucked up to know who he is himself." He snapped his fingers in front of the guy's face andreceived no reaction whatsoever.

Harry smirked. "The music must be hypnotic or something," he commented, noticing how the guy situated betweenhim and Malfoywas still dancing in time to the music. He had to repeat his insight to Malfoy because the music was so loud.

"This place is crazy," Malfoy said, as if that explained everything. And it did.

Harry laughed. "Exactly," he replied. He pointed in the general direction of the bar, then mimed tossing back a shot.

Malfoy nodded. "I'll join you," he shouted. They walked off the dance floor together and sat down at the bar. Harry ordered another Ambrosia, and Malfoy stared at him for a few seconds before turning to Patrick and saying, "I'll have the same."

"And he'll have it mixed with a shot of Jack," Harry added. He looked at Malfoy. "It's the best way to dilute the Ambrosia without killing yourself," he explained.

Malfoy nodded. "Right. I think you said something about that earlier."

Harry nodded. "Just remember not to take Ecstasy," he warned.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Don't worry. I don't feel like dying tonight."

Patrick set their drinks on the table. "One Ambrosia and Jack Daniel's, and one straight Ambrosia. Second one, Ash. Am I going to have to throw you out tonight?" he joked, winking.

"You wouldn't throw me out," Harry said, gulping down his drink. "The bouncers would."

"Nah, they wouldn't throw you out either," Patrick said, shaking his head and smiling ruefully. "They like you too much."

"That's because he helps keep the peace," Dean said, appearing behind them suddenly. "Another Ambrosia and Jack, please," he said to Patrick before turning his attention to Harry and Malfoy. "So who's the hot... Malfoy?"

"The hot Malfoy would be Draco, Tomas," Harry said wryly.

"Um..." Dean stuttered. "Hey." As soon as Patrick put his drink on the table, Dean snatched it up and more or less ran away from the bar.

"Well, he's got something to tell everybody now," Malfoy growled.

Harry shook his head. "Nope. What happens here stays here. That's the rule."

"Yeah, and you and how many people go by this rule?" Malfoy asked, sipping tentatively at his drink. He grimaced. "This is what everyone raves about?"

"It's not the taste, it's the feeling it brings. And Seamus and Dean are the onlyother people that come here with me."

"Finnegan?"

"Don't worry. He may not be able to keep a secret to save his life at school, but when it comes to this place, he keeps his mouth shut." He downed the rest of the contents in his glass and set it down on the table. "Thanks, Patrick." He rose to his feet.

"Are you going back out on the dance floor?" Malfoy asked, finishing his drink as well.

"Of course."

"Our Ash likes to dance all night, isn't that right?" Patrick asked, wiping Harry's glass.

"You know it," Harry replied. "Are you coming?" he asked Malfoy.

"Sure," Malfoy said after a moment. "Why not?" He followed Harry back up to the dais. Harry leapt up onto the raised platform and held out a hand to help Malfoy up as well. If he was feeling lightheaded, then Malfoy was, too. The edges of his vision were just starting to be caressed by thin, hazy rainbows, and everything was sharper and blurrier at the same time. They started moving to the rhythm of Lacuna Coil's "Swamped," and Harry twirled and dipped until he was dizzy, reveling in the feeling of freedom he experienced every time he was on the dance floor. And Malfoy danced with him, restrained and hesitant at first, but eventually jumping and twisting with the same reckless abandon. To Harry, this was his way of expressing life.

0000

"I think I'm... rather knackered," Malfoy stated, wobbling on his feet slightly. "Have you ever noticed how... bright the room is?" he asked.

And Harry had; it was like millions of shimmering pieces of glass shattering over and over again, tingling and ringing in his ears while not making any sound at all. And every person was made up of swirls of color that blended and broke apart, forming intricate patterns that changed every second. And everything was beautiful. And everything was wonderful. And everything was perfect. And he could hear every sound in the room distinctly, separate. But all the sounds blended together, too, like a hive of angry bees.

And then Malfoy was leaning into him,bendingso his forehead was resting on the curve between Harry's neck and his shoulder. "So, you're Ash," he said into Harry's ear. Harry shivered, relishing in the thousands of waves that made up Malfoy's voice. They all broke up and scattered so that Malfoy's words only made partial sense. "I've heard many things about you."

"Really?" Harry asked, his voice husky. "What do people say?"

"Lots of things. Some people hate you. Others think you're a god." Malfoy chuckled. "I wonder what they'd think if they knew I was fuckinga god?"

Harry laughed. "They'd probably think it's even more possible to get into my pants than before."

Malfoy's hand moved to caress Harry's cock through his jeans. "How many people know they can get into your pants?"

Harry sighed and pressed his cheek against Malfoy's hair. "I'm not really sure. Sometimes I'm too fucked up to notice what's going on. You can usually tell by the way people look at me, though."

"Really?" Malfoy asked, straightening up so he was looking down at Harry again. "How so?"

Harry looked around at faces in the crowd. "Like there," he said, pointing at one particular person. "Do you see how he's staring at me?"

"Looks like he thinks you're forbidden or something," Malfoy laughed.

"That means we've never had sex before, and he really wants to.They're the ones I stay away from." Harry looked for another example. "You see him?"

"He looks like he doesn't care."

"Right. Look again in a couple of seconds, but don't make it obvious that you're looking."

"He's staring at you out of the corners of his eyes."

"He's waiting for me to get messed up enoughso he can more or less fuck me right here on the floor without my even noticing, let alone stopping him." He pointed at another guy. "And then there areguys like him."

Malfoy craned his neck to look at him. "Let me guess. He's had sex with you before."

"How'd you guess?" Harry asked, not really surprised.

"He's smirking at you and strutting around so much it's pathetic."

"Yeah. That means I made a mistake and picked the wrong kind of guy."

"What sort of guys do you pick here?"

"People like that guy over there," Harry said, gesturing to someone who wasn't looking in their direction at all. "He doesn't know who I am. Either people like that or people who get just as trashed as I do. That way neither of us remembers who we had sex with when we wake up."

"What category do I fall under?" Malfoy asked.

"I didn't meet you here so you're a completely different story."

Malfoy nodded. "Let's go get another round." He led Harry over to the bar, both of them tripping occasionally over nothing.

"Is this your third?" Patrick asked when they reached the bar.

"Yeah," Malfoy replied, nearly missing the stool when he sat down.

Harry didn't even bother to try; he just leaned against the bar. "If I can still count, then I'm too sober."

"Well, you've got all night," Patrick said, handing Harry another drink. Harry gulped it down and sighed. "God, I love that feeling," he remarked, feeling the hot liquid shoot straight to his gut and lace outward through his veins. "Let's go," he said to Malfoy, grabbing his hand and leading him out onto the dance floor. They crawled up onto the dais, taking their time so as not to hurt themselves, then resumed dancing wildly to a loud, heavy-metal rendition of some old eighties pop song.

When that song faded away, it was replaced with Marilyn Manson's "Coma White." Harry laughed and spun around once, twice, his hands arms stretched out over his head. "I love this song."

Malfoy encircled Harry's waist with his arms. "I've heard it before. I like it, too."

Harry groaned. "So shut up and dance to it." He wrapped his arms around Malfoy's neck and they moved slowly, rhythmically, to the music. Harry started singing along, his voice low and even.

"A pill to make you numb, a pill to make you dumb, a pill to make you anybody else

All the drugs in this world won't save her from herself"

"You sing nice," Malfoy commented, nuzzling Harry's hair. "I didn't expect that." He laughed. "Then again, you've been surprising me a lot lately."

Harry smiled. "You should come here on karaoke night sometime," he said. "Then you'll really hear me sing."

And then "Coma White" was over, and another song blasted out of the speakers. Harry instantly knew what the song was, the percussionsending thrills straight up through his body from his toes and giving him goosebumps. "Mm, I love this song."

"You love every song," Malfoy retorted.

"Yeah, but I love this song especially," Harry shot back. "Now just shut up and dance."

The two of them started moving in time to the beat, getting into the music. "What's this song?" Malfoy asked.

"It's Pink Floyd's 'Learning To Fly,'" Harry replied. "Now, shut up." He pressed his head against Malfoy's chest, and Malfoy rested his cheek on the top of Harry's head. He placed one hand between Harry's shoulder blades, and the other on the small of his back. Harry wrapped his arms around Malfoy and closed his eyes, listening to the words of the song.

"Into the distance, a ribbon of black s

Stretched to the point of no turning back

A flight of fancy on a windswept field

Standing alone, my senses reel

A fatal attraction holding me fast

How can I escape this irresistible grasp?"

He pressed closer against Malfoy, feeling the other boy twirl them around in slow circles, still moving up and down in time with the beat.

"Ice is forming on the tips of my wings

Unheeded warnings; I thought I'd thought of everything

No navigator to find my way home

Unladen, empty, and turned to stone"

And then he noticed Malfoy was humming along, just like he was. And it was like they were alone on the dais, even though that was ridiculous, because they could barely move due to its being so crowded. But they were dancing together, moving back and forth, twirling, spinning together in a rhythm they matched perfectly. Nobody else could find that rhythm. They just blended together.

"Above the planet on a wing and a prayer

My grubby halo a vapor trail in the empty air

Across the clouds I see my shadow fly

Out of the corner of my watering eye

A dream unthreatened by the morning light

Could blow this soul right through the roof of the night"

And Harry didn't want this night with Malfoy to end because they were together in public and nobody cared; nobody could tell, because nobody knew. And he knew that, standing in the circle of Malfoy's arms, Malfoy didn't want the night to end either.

"There's no sensation to compare with this

Suspended animation, a state of bliss

Can't keep my mind from the circling skies

Tongue-tied and twisted, just an earthbound misfit"

And they continued to dance to that rhythm, even though a different song had started playing, even though the dancers around them were moving to some fast-paced, acid-metal tune. And they didn't care, because they were still flying. And it was beautiful. And it was perfect. And when the morning came, it would be over. And it would never be the same again.

0000

Ooh, wasn't that a bad ending? I cut it off like that because the next chapter is in Harry's perspective again, so I felt I didn't have to completely close off this one. How'd you like it? If excuses must be made, I did type up this chapter rather late at night, and I wanted to illustrate a more "human" side to Harry. You know, like his desire to be part of something and not have to worry about being important? Anyway, review and let me know what you think, because there's really not much you can do to let me know what your opinion is otherwise.