Harry awoke later to a beam of light shining on his face. He squinted. A streetlight. Hmmm, that's strange, he thought. Did I sleep all that time? He moved out of the way to find himself shrouded in darkness. He swore, and heaved himself off the bed. He stumbled to the wall, running his fingers along it to find the light switch, to no avail. He swore again. Packets of melted chocolate under the pillowcase, a ridiculously cheery letter lying on the table, instructions on how to make instant coffee (Harry pulled a face) but no bloody sign saying where the light switch was.
He gave up and staggered to the bathroom, where he knew the switch was just inside the door. He flicked on the switch and threw his hands up in front of his face as the harsh light attacked his sleepy eyes.
He squinted at his reflection. He needed a shower. Badly.
o
o
o
Harry eyed his reflection nervously, his teeth tugged at his bottom lip, and he ran his hand through his already tousled hair. It had seemed like such a good idea, when he was planning it out, safe and sound in his Hogwarts bed. But now?
It had always confused his friends, that he didn't know. How can you not know? they'd ask. He'd shrug, and give an apologetic smile. He'd never really had time for a love life, after Cho. In fact, after Cho, girls didn't seem all that interesting anymore. And as he got older, some of the guys around him did seem rather intriguing. But he'd never been with a guy, so he didn't know if that was what he preferred...oh, it was all too confusing.
He'd thought that all he needed to do was to cruise along down to a gay bar, and see if anything tickled his fancy. If he really did float in that boat, he'd certainly have enough to choose from. And if he didn't, it would hit him in the face pretty damn fast.
But now he was a bit worried. "Swinging down" to a gay bar? He'd never done this kind of thing before. There was always some Dark wizard who was after his blood, or a reporter with more or less the same intentions, and he'd never had time to "party".
It was a relatively sophisticated bar, he had been told, but a bar none the less. He hoped his reasonably tight but suitably low-key black clothing would suffice.
He downed the last sip of Firewhisky in his last bottle. He knew he probably shouldn't be drinking before he reached the bar, but he needed something to loosen him up.
He strolled out of the hotel, mentally reminding himself to look for an apartment in the morning. He didn't think he could cope with another night of peach and darkness. He walked along, kicking the thick, golden leaves piling up in the gutter.
He looked around, and noticed the lack of people on the street. He smiled to himself, and cast an "Unnoticeable" charm on himself. He loved it; it was much better than an invisibility potion or cloak. When you became invisible, and picked up a drink, all people could see was a floating glass, and they'd go into hysterics. But with this tricky little charm, they saw you, watched you bring the glass to your lips, and then instantly forgot about you. And the glass. Harry had become quite a pro at this little charm. He'd used it many a time when he just wanted to be left alone.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating as hard as he could. He most certainly did not want to splinch himself, which was more of a risk because of the alcohol. It had only happened to him once, but it had been such an awful experience he did not want to experience it again. He'd had to wait hours and hours with his body parts all over the place, while Lupin (who had been taking him out for lessons) and a few fellow classmates searched frantically for his leftover organs.
He felt the tingling feeling settling over his body, and concentrating hard on where he wanted to go he gave a flick of his wand. Many wizards didn't use their wand in apparating, but as Harry still found it a completely alien thing to be doing, he liked to use his wand for a little guidance. He knew he'd have to take the trainer wheels off one day.
He felt the world lurch, and he felt like he was spinning in a million different directions...and then all was still. He opened his eyes, and gazed around. He gave himself a reassuring clench of the fist, and walked forward.
Harry slipped in the door, and took a deep breath, glad to notice the distinct lack of smell of stale piss, bits of vomit and cheap alcohol that so many bars sported.
There were quite a few people there, Harry noticed, all talking avidly with one another. Loud voices with clipped tones. Harry felt rather uncultured, for a moment.
He slunk over to the bar and sat down on an empty stool, gazing round the room. The décor seemed very...Harry had no word to describe it, as it seemed to shimmer and change before his eyes. Every time he tried to fix his eyes on a specific feature, it slipped away. Harry smiled. Looked like a wizard had been in here at least once, and decided a complex charm ought to do the trick. It was a wonder the Ministry hadn't intervened, though.
Harry suddenly felt very lonely. Everyone seemed to know each other, chatting boisterously with one another. Harry looked over in the corner, where many, er, couples seemed to be, er, dancing. Big groups of gorgeous men rubbing up against each other seemed a more fitting description to Harry.
But who could he have asked to accompany him? Ron? Harry snorted. He could imagine the look of absolute terror on Ron's face if he were with him. Ron's boggart would sport a man-bag and a camp voice in no time.
'What can I get you?' said a silky voice, and Harry turned to see a suave barman eyeing Harry with obvious interest. Harry blushed, and suddenly realised he had no idea what to ask for. Whenever he was out with friends, it was either a Butterbeer or a Firewhisky if he was feeling adventurous. Did muggles have Firewhiskies?
'Errr...I'm not sure.' Harry said, feeling stupider by the second.
'Need the help of someone with experience?' said the barman smoothly, putting extra stress on the last word.
'Um...' said Harry, but he was interrupted as a voice behind him said,
'He'll have tequila with lime. And so will I.' they said smoothly, and seated themselves beside Harry. Harry turned in his chair to give a bashful smile, but stopped short when he saw the man's face. His breath caught in his throat and he felt like his whole body had frozen. The young man smiled, appearing not to have recognised Harry.
'Do you have a name? Besides "that cute one sitting at the bar".' the blond said, giving a cheeky smile. He must have taken Harry's stunned silence for disbelief. Which it was, partly, but not just at the man's statement.
'Oh yes,' he continued, 'You've attracted quite a lot of interest. I must say I've never seen you here before. Out of towner, are you?'
Harry choked, and then manage to force out, 'Malfoy?!'
The young man froze, and the colour drained out of his cheeks.
'What did you just call me?' he tried to say, evenly. But Harry didn't reply, he just sat there, staring at the pale-skinned blond.
'Who are you?' hissed Malfoy. Amidst Harry's complete shock, he felt a tingle of amusement, and gave a small chuckle.
'You don't recognise me?' Harry said. Malfoy opened his mouth matter of factly, but then closed it abruptly, his eyes opening wide.
'No.' he whispered, and completely incredulous look on his face.
Harry grinned. 'Potter. Harry Potter.'
Malfoy's eyes widened even more, and his mouth gaped wide. 'Well, fuck me.' he said finally.
Harry choked on his drink. 'Excuse me?'
'Not literally, Potter.' Malfoy said swiftly, downing his shot. Harry continued to stare. 'Have I got something in my teeth, Potter? Or are you just indescribably drawn to my face?'
Harry clenched his teeth. 'Where the hell have you been all this time?'
Malfoy merely gave Harry a sneering smile. Harry found this extremely provoking. He felt his initial shock turning into anger.
'The whole bloody Ministry was looking for you! Everyone was terrified, they didn't know if their friend was really you, under a polyjuice potion! They didn't know if you were sneaking around, setting up everything for Voldemort!'
'And people tell me the world doesn't revolve around me.' Malfoy said with a smirk. He glanced around the room, taking in the baffled looks of people who'd managed to overhear their conversation. 'And I'd keep my voice down, if I were you, Potter.'
'And all this time, you were just sleazing around muggle gay bars? What-' Harry suddenly stopped mid-rant, and a small smile tugged at his lips. 'You're gay?'
'It would appear so, yes.' Malfoy said. 'And it would also appear that you are, too.'
Harry snorted.
'Oh, dear, we're not still in the denial stage, are we? Oh, how tedious.' Malfoy sneered.
'Tell me,' Harry began, adopting a similar expression, 'What did Death Eater Daddy say when he found out his son was a little faggot? Or was he too busy listening to the voices in his head he'd adopted from his stay in Azkaban?'
'I don't know, I don't talk to my father.' Malfoy said, with an expression on his face Harry couldn't place. Regret? Remorse? Jealousy? Contentment? Anger? 'But from what I hear, neither do you.' he spat.
'Two peas in a pod, huh?' Harry said, sarcastically.
'You're barely in the same garden as me, Potter.'
'Wouldn't want to be. All full of worms.'
'At least it's not full of red-headed flowers. My soils fertilized.'
Harry sighed. 'Can we stop all this metaphoric talk? It's hurting my head.'
'Sorry, I forgot your brain stopped advancing from age seven.'
'Says the person who got two less NEWTS than I did.'
'Only because you've been coddled and petted and had every single bias on your side since you were born. And because Professor Trelawney and that oaf Hagrid are hardly worth wasting a class on.'
'ME coddled? I doubt even a thread of your expensive clothes touches your "fertilized soil".'
'So you finally acknowledge I'm not one of the worms!'
'I didn't say that, did I?' Harry retorted.
'Excuse me, Potter, but I have been doing nothing but wiping the shit from all the arses you moron Gryffindors have managed to explode.'
'Not your best metaphor, Malfoy.'
'Not always a metaphor, Potter.'
'Oh yeah? And what did YOU do in the fight? Where were YOU in the final battle? Sitting behind a tree on the dark side, handing revival Potions to the Death Eaters? Or perhaps casting a binding spell on an innocent muggle boy as you raped his face off?'
Malfoy stared at Harry. 'That was low, Potter. Really low.'
Harry shifted in his seat a little at Malfoy's intense gaze, but glared back at him.
'For your bloody information, Potter, I was on your side.'
'And what did you do for my side?'
'Background jobs that seemed insignificant and far too difficult for what they produced at the time but in the end helped a great bloody deal more than anyone else's help did.'
'Oh yeah? Like what?'
'Feeding the Death Eaters wrong information, making sure there was no way they could link the treachery back to me. Giving them ruined Potions, making sure someone else's throat was slit. Poison in drinks that couldn't be traced. Whispers in the ear resulting in passionate deaths. Basically, I messed with the enemies' minds, Potter. If I was on their side, these muggles would all be dead or hung up for torture.'
'You're that confident in yourself, huh?' said Harry, downing another glass and placing it next to the rather large pile he had created.
'It's the little things, Potter. They always bring you down.' Malfoy said morosely.
Harry nodded slowly. Then he gave a barely concealed chuckle.
'What?' shot Malfoy.
'Isn't that a song?' Harry asked quietly.
Against his will, Malfoy felt the corners of his mouth tugging up. 'Yeah. Yeah I think it is.'
