Title: The Art and Practice of Absolute Pitch

Author: Gold-Snitcher

Chapter Six: E is for Ecstasyi

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She stared with wide-eyes at the small, dark green box that sat so innocently on her coffee table, the lid raised to reveal the contents that sat on a bed of velvet. She felt somewhat silly to admit that the sight of the delicately cut platinum ring sitting in the box made her chest ache, and her eyes water. "How long?" she managed to ask, covering her emotions by taking a sip of her tea.

"Gawd," Draco sighed, picking up the box, looking at it fondly for a moment before closing it and tucking it into a pocket. "Going on four months," he admitted.

"And you haven't found the right moment?" Pansy asked with a hint of mirth.

"There were plenty of opportunities – which were abruptly cut-short by someone, or several someones, seeking either my help or his. Sometimes both of us."

"That seems a bit like an excuse. You could easily make the time, Draco," Pansy said.

"When? He's got to re-tape, so I can't exactly arrange for us to get out of London long enough for me to ask him. That severely limits the opportunities."

"Take him out to dinner," she suggested.

"Which I did just before I left to come here," Draco said. "And it was going fine, until I turned to conversation towards relationships, and how everyone else's relationship seemed to be falling apart."

"Why on earth would you discuss that over a dinner when you intended to propose to him?" Pansy asked, baffled.

"I just thought I could say something like: 'Well, we seem to be going strong amidst all this chaos, want to make it official?'"

"Men," she huffed, looking at him fondly. "Clearly it didn't go as planned, or that would be on his finger. What could have ruined such a romantic evening?"

"He laughed when I mentioned how everyone was having relationship troubles, and pointed out that we weren't. He told me to knock on wood," Draco sighed. "So I did."

"That's cowardice," Pansy pointed out. "Though proposing before you left would have been bad form."

"I'm not doubting us," Draco defended. "I've never doubted us. But he collapsed from exhaustion this week!" Draco snapped. "And I have no idea how he would react to me asking to marry him. He could be happy. He could be scared. I don't know. And the point is, if he reacts in any way other than to be completely ecstatic, at this moment, he doesn't have anyone to turn to who he can talk with about it. To sort it out in his head. Sometimes he needs to do that, you know? But with what everyone is going through, no one would be available for that! Hermione and Ron are just getting back together. Blaise is being a total prat, and I don't want him giving relationship advice to my lover. Ginny's in the middle of rehearsals for the opera. Dean and Seamus are involved in their work as well. Neville never offers any clear advice other than to 'follow you heart'. And Sirius is in the middle of setting things up for the upcoming school year. My own mother, even, who I imagine Harry might turn to if he had no one else, is on her 'second honeymoon' with Severus."

"That's amazingly sweet, that you're taking all of this into consideration," Pansy said. "But also really stupid."

"What do you mean?"

"All you can do is ask, Draco. The decision is Harry's, and you've got to trust that he can make it on his own. You and I both know he's more opinionated than any of us, even if he is quiet. You're doing him a disservice, not being upfront. And if you're waiting for a perfectly romantic moment, then stop it. You know Harry better than that. You know that just you asking him for forever will be enough to make kneeling in a pile of mud in the middle of a hail storm surrounded by grazing cattle romantic."

"That is romantic, sort of," Draco said. "If I were in a very expensive suit."

"You're sort of right," Pansy said as she thought on it. "Showing him that you love him enough to brave the elements, to sacrifice even your wealth and appearance, since regardless of his answer, you'd be walking home covered in mud – and god knows what else, since your in a field of grazing cattle."

"Well, at this rate, that's going to be the only way I can get him alone long enough to ask!" Draco huffed, returning to the conversation.

"You're just being overdramatic," Pansy counseled.

"It doesn't feel that way," Draco pouted.

"It never does," she said with a long-suffering shake of her head, and then shrieked as Draco tossed a pillow at her.

……………………..

Sirius, as promised, knocked on the door at precisely seven o'clock in the evening, which was a good thing because if he'd come any earlier, Harry would not have opened the door. Sirius had fussed over him terribly over his exhaustion, and it had only gotten worse when Draco had left, because he was not only the only one in the apartment to fuss, but also because Draco had been the one to distract Sirius and garner a few hours of peace for them. Harry had no such luck convincing his uncle that he would not expire if Sirius went out to a pub, or took Remus somewhere, or just left him in peace.

Harry had been very good, and very patient and incredibly tolerant of his uncle's behavior. He understood that a part of it was because Sirius and Harry did not actually spend much time together anymore like they had done, and his uncle missed him. Another part was that, for Sirius, Harry was all that remained of family, and Sirius was the only real family that Harry had, and they clung to each other like survivors of a shipwreck. Harry could remember a time, when he was just fourteen that he had fussed in a similar fashion over his uncle, when Sirius had come down with a rather fierce bout of bronchitis.

This time, however, there really wasn't anything to be worried about. Harry had more than enough rest under Sirius' watchful eye, and he absolutely refused to stay another unneeded day in bed. It had, rather to Harry's frustration, taken his revolt against his uncle's rule of his apartment, and subsequent tossing of Sirius out of said apartment on his ear that had, in the end, convinced Sirius that his nephew was in fact just fine. So, three days after Draco's departure, Harry had their home to himself again.

"You're all set, then?" Harry asked as he settled into the chair opposite Sirius.

"Just stopping by for the traditional check-in," Sirius replied, and they grinned. Since Harry had moved out of Black Manor house, Sirius had taken to dropping by for a visit before returning to Hogwarts. Sometimes, with Harry's touring schedule at the beginning, Sirius had been required to hop a flight to see Harry, but he always did it. When Harry had become more established and able to adjust his schedule as he pleased, he always made sure to be in London at the time Sirius would be heading back.

"Have you settled things with Remus? Is he going to visit?" Harry asked.

"Of course we're still going to see each other," Sirius answered with such an affronted look on his face that Harry grinned broadly. "Why are you giving me that impish grin?" Sirius asked cautiously.

"Do you know how happy it makes me to finally see you happy and in love? I was about to take-up matchmaking on your behalf. I mean, you go out, but you never meet the right sort to settle down with," Harry answered.

"I'm not that bad. You remember John," Sirius replied.

"It was precisely because I remembered John that I was going to set you up myself. Honestly, the man looked and acted, as if you'd scraped him out of the corner of a seedy pub, and need I remind you of that rather pungent odor that followed him everywhere?" and Harry wrinkled his nose at the memory.

"Oh yes," Sirius replied with a laugh. "It was his socks, he believed that they were his lucky socks and refused to wash them lest the 'luck' in them wash out. Unfortunately, whenever I was around, he always seemed to have his fingers crossed, I think I just got used to it after a while. And it was when I realized I was used to the smell that I left him," Sirius joked. It had actually been more complicated, and John hadn't been all that smelly, but he definitely had not been right for Harry's uncle. "On to a nicer topic," Sirius said, his voice serious. "Have you got your tour schedule yet?"

"Yeah, Finn and I settled it just today," Harry said.

"You sound disappointed."

"Still no time for a concert in Venice," Harry sighed. "I've always wanted to go. I used to imagine Draco and I might go together, but I guess I didn't foresee our busy schedules back in my high school daydreams," he said and laughed. "So I've been trying for ages to wrangle Finn to set-up a tour that stops in Venice, but with the size of my following in other places, well, it didn't make sense. Not that many people in Venice as in New York, who buy my cd's and tickets to my concerts."

"You'll get there, Guppy," Sirius said with a fond smile.

"I have a secret weapon," Harry said as he nodded in agreement to his uncle's statement. "I'm playing around with a few of Vivaldi's pieces. If I do an album like that, then it would only make sense for the tour to take us through Venice. Either that, or I'm going to run away there. The last, I'm afraid, seems more likely."

"I'll make sure to look there if ever your disappear for a suspicious length of time," Sirius said dryly.

……………………….

It was passed eleven o'clock at night, and Harry paced the apartment once more. He felt vaguely lost, pacing his home with no real purpose. All he knew was that he could not sleep – the bed felt too large with only himself in it. The absolute quiet of the apartment was making him restless, and he'd forgotten that neither Draco nor Sirius would be joining him for dinner, and had to wrap up the extra food he'd cooked before he'd remembered.

All in all, it was the usual pattern he fell into when Draco went on tour.

With a sigh, he crossed by the coffee table where Komm Susser Tod lay in her case, enshrouded by crushed blue velvet that had been pulled back. He traced her dark wood idly as he passed, plucked a string and when the bright sound echoed through the apartment, he paced back to her side. Once more he reached out and plucked a string, sighing as she sang-out once more.

He picked her up delicately and unsnapped his bow from where it rested in the case. Settling her into position, Harry suddenly felt grounded once more. He raised his bow and immediately a song came to mind, and he began it, embellishing segments and losing himself in the wonderful echo Susser made as the notes drifted out to fill the silence.

He began pianissimo, the beginning of a thought – of a feeling.ii A tender yearning for something. Like a brush of fingertips against warm flesh – it left him feeling full and heady, but aching at the same time. It broke him apart as it healed him, drowned him in blissful heat as it crashed him against cool rocks – it made him soar.

As Harry played, his body leaning into the music, lost in the flood of thought. Suddenly he was a child, back in his mother's arms as she rocked him to sleep, smiling that way she always did when she held him – as if he made her so very happy when all he was doing was drifting to sleep in her embrace.

He was seven, and his father picked him up from the couch where he was dozing, and carried him up the stairs and tucked him into bed.

He was ten, and his mother smiled widely even as she cried, after he had completed his solo performance of the song she had played so often with him.

He was sixteen, and Sirius brushed the hair from his brow, looking so very proud of him even if he was a wreck after having spent the entire night crying.

He was seventeen, and Draco touched his cheek gently, chuffed softly, and pulled Harry to his chest, laughing quietly at Harry's ranting.

He was twenty-four, and he ached; full to capacity with such a sense of awe and happiness, of miserable joy because everything, even that pain, had been so perfect, simply because it brought him to this moment. This exact moment when he knew that he was loved in so many ways by so many people. It was an overwhelming sensation, but wonderful to experience.

He let the song draw to its conclusion and heaved a heady sigh, feeling suddenly very calm. This empty apartment wasn't anything he hadn't endured before. He stretched his neck out for a moment before resettling Susser into position and let his mind wander as he created new songs as the notes came to him. Each song transforming seamlessly into a new one as it came to him, and he played until, finally, sleep didn't seem so impossible.

…………………..

The low murmur of voices echoed through the dimly lit theatre and Harry squeezed his hand once, tightly, around Blaise's wrist to offer support. It was the opening night of Blaise's play, 'The Carnival', and even if the man was being a bit of an ass to Pansy, Harry wouldn't leave his friend alone on such a huge night. Together with Dean and Seamus, they occupied one of the boxes to the right of the stage.

"Don't do that during the performance," Blaise said to Harry, trying to sound calm and aloof, but Harry knew his friend was just shy of screaming his excitement to the hall and bouncing in his seat like a little child while clapping his hands together.

"I have to become the physical embodiment of your excitement or else you'll spontaneously combust," Harry explained plainly, and Blaise grinned once, broadly, and then squeezed Harry's wrist.

"God, it's a good thing Angela isn't here," Blaise murmured quietly. "She'd probably wonder if I were gay."

"Nothing wrong with that," Seamus interrupted. "Right Harry?"

"I'm quite enjoying it," Harry said with a smirk, and Blaise simply shook his head and ruffled his friend's hair.

"Quiet you idiots, it's starting," Dean hissed as the lights dimmed.

"Psst," Seamus murmured five minutes into the production. "Are you understanding any of this?"

"Shut up," Blaise whispered back.

"It's just beginning, we're not supposed to have it all figured out," Dean answered in a whisper.

"Psst," Seamus said twenty minutes later. "Shall we go to the pub after the show, to celebrate?"

"I'm never inviting you to one of my plays again, you lush," Blaise answered, keeping his voice low.

"Of course we're going out after this," Harry replied. "Now hush."

"Psst," Seamus said, five minutes before intermission, and Blaise hopped his chair back and brought it down on Seamus' shoe which prompted the Irish man to utter a strangled moan and he didn't make another sound until the curtain closed on the final scene; not even during the intermission.

……………….

Draco dropped his luggage by the couch and looked around the apartment for any sign of where Harry might be. Seeing the note pinned to the refrigerator by one of the amusing magnets Harry had grown attached to, Draco made his way to the kitchen and reviewed the note. A glance at his watch revealed that he was in time to meet Harry and the others as they celebrated Blaise's opening night.

Leaving the bags where he had deposited them, Draco entered the bedroom in search of suitable attire. He settled on black pants and a soft blue button down shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbow. A bit of gel and he'd managed to tousle his hair in that way that Harry particularly liked, and then Draco was grabbing his keys and heading back out of the apartment, intent on tracking down his errant lover and their friends.

……………….

The music was loud and the lighting dim. Every few minutes, Harry's face was lit-up orange, then purple, then blue – the strobes and spots scanning the crowds and highlighting every throbbing, moving, twisting body in the mass of bodies that filled the club. Harry had been dancing for half an hour when he rejoined Blaise at the bar. He was pleasantly buzzed and hummed along with the song that was playing.

"We've lost people," Harry noticed after a moment.

"No we haven't," Blaise assured. "Seamus has succumbed to the allure of a young blonde by the name of Rosie, and Dean went out dancing not long after you disappeared."

"You should be dancing, too," Harry said. "You have to celebrate!"

Blaise was about to open his mouth and admit that he really didn't at all feel like celebrating when Harry was distracted by a long around curling about his upper body. For a fleeting moment, Harry thought that Draco had finally arrived at the club. He'd left a note for his lover, not sure when Draco's plane would get in but unable to stay and wait for him because he couldn't miss opening night. It didn't take more than a split second for Harry to realize that the thick, muscled arm that was in the middle of pulling him backwards against a broad and muscled chest did not belong to Draco at all.

"Come dance with me, Precious," the stranger purred in Harry's ear.

'Allure', which was the club they were at, was not a gay club but it was pretty open-minded and they had found that Harry and Draco could dance together comfortably without having to worry about fights breaking out. It was part of the reason they frequented it, the patrons cared as much about who was with whom as they themselves did – which was not at all.

"No thanks," Harry said, and took a sip of the martini the bartender had just set before him.

"You know you want to. I saw you dancing with that guy," the man insisted. Which was true. Harry had been dancing with Dean earlier, but after Dean had retreated to the bar for a break, Harry had been dancing with another man who had asked him. He was always fairly cautious of his dance partners as Harry was still shy around strangers, especially when dancing – throwback from his experience with his roommate when he had still been in school. Still, over the years of being with Draco and going out with his friends, Harry had felt more comfortable with dancing in public, and with strangers. He didn't dance the same way with the strangers as he did with Draco, but it was always more fun to dance with another person than by yourself, and Harry never turned down an offer so long as the person offering didn't seem threatening – like the man who had an arm wrapped about him.

"He's not interested," Blaise interrupted, noticing his friend's discomfort.

"What's it to you?" the man snapped.

"He's with me," Blaise shot back, not pausing a moment.

"Yeah, fucking, right," the man retorted.

Before Harry could blink, Blaise had grabbed him by the front of the shirt and jerked him forward. Harry had enough time to hold his drink out to the side before he slammed against Blaise's chest, and before he could say a word, Blaise's lips crashed down on his own.

Harry was completely dazed. He'd really only ever really kissed Draco before, and their kisses weren't anything like this. It was also even more bizarre because, not only was Blaise straight (though he was quite comfortable with his sexuality, and sometimes Harry wondered if he wasn't a little bit bi), he was also like an older brother to Harry. Right now, he was just the slightest bit uncomfortable, though he knew what his friend was doing and appreciated it greatly.

When they broke apart, Harry was flushed and felt disconcerted and Blaise was trying to hide his amusement, though it shined in his eyes, and the stranger was smirking at Harry and simply shrugged and walked off – turning around once to flash Harry a wink which sent shivers down his spine.

"Not bad," Blaise teased. "But I think I prefer the ladies."

"That was just weird," Harry confirmed. Blaise laughed and ruffled the gelled black locks. They had all changed to go out, and Harry had styled his hair with a bit of gel, spiking it up slightly. Blaise noticed Harry shiver and frowned.

"Are you okay?" Blaise asked.

"Just a flashback," Harry admitted, trying to sound casual. He reached out and tossed back the rest of his martini in one gulp before hailing for another.

"Take it easy," Blaise said, and rubbed the other man's back. "Should we go out for a bit?"

"No," Harry insisted as he accepted the new martini glass from the bartender and took a long sip. "It's fine. But you're coming dancing with me," Harry insisted, changing the topic. Blaise rolled his eyes but stuck close to Harry's side. Every so often, something happened that would bring back memories of Tom Riddle, and Blaise had been friends with Harry long enough to know that, no matter how much he tried, Harry wasn't as fine as he was trying to pretend. Blaise had no intention of leaving his friend's side.

It was because of this silent pact with himself that Blaise followed when Harry grabbed his wrist and yanked him out onto the dance floor. They found Seamus surrounded by several women and joined them, both Harry and Blaise picking a partner and settling into the beat.

Three songs later, Blaise frowned as he watched Harry lose track of the beat and raise a hand to his head. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Harry laughed shortly and tossed his back-and-forth, like a dog shaking off water. "Nothing," he said. "Just a bit dizzy." When Blaise continued to look at him closely, Harry wrapped his arms around his dance partner, who nearly swooned and tilted her head into the dark-haired man's neck. "I'm fine," Harry insisted.

…………………..

explicit content begins

…………………..

Stepping into 'Allure' was like stepping into another world. Draco paused on the top step and scanned the mass of gyrating bodies looking for any sign of his friend. He caught sight of Blaise and Dean by the bar and immediately headed over. "Gentlemen!" Draco greeted as he came upon them.

"Draco!" Dean said, with more than a little relief, and Blaise turned his head away.

Struck by their reactions, Draco looked around. "What's wrong?" And then, with more than a trace of worry, "Where's Harry?"

"Draco …" Blaise said, and then sighed and shook his head. "I'm keeping an eye on him," he said instead. "Really."

"Where is he?" Draco said again, worry rising him at the confirmation of his fear. Blaise jerked his head to the right and Draco, following the gesture, caught sight of a crowd that had congregated around the bar. Near a pole that connected the bar to the ceiling, Draco saw pale hands reaching heavenward, just a brief glimpse of slender fingers above the heads of the people.

Wondering what was happening, Draco pushed his way through the crowd until he stood near the bar, staring open-mouthed at the vision that was moving on the bar top. It was perhaps more than fitting that the song blasting over the speakers in the club was Air's 'Sexy Boy' because that was exactly what Harry was.

Clad in tight, hip-hugging red pants and a white sleeveless-T with a red painted slash across the chest, hair gelled to stick-up, glasses off, and thick bracelet around his right wrist, Harry was the embodiment of sex. He stood on the bar and was dancing to the music. The dance, reminiscent of the one Draco had stumbled upon when he had come home just recently, was slow and very hot.

Harry's back was pressed against the pole; his hips were pumping and his arms were moving, skimming his body lightly. His head was thrown back, lips parted, eyes closed, and his long pale neck was exposed. Slowly, Harry's head lolled towards the crowd and his eyes slit open, meeting Draco's directly, and that was when Draco knew what was wrong; knew what had loosed his shy lover to the point where he was dancing as he was, in front of the crowd. Harry was on drugs – his pupils made that more than cleariii.

It took a moment for Draco to regain control of the snarl of emotions that rose in him. Harry had never done drugs, and he could think of no reason why his lover might try now. Added to his concern was anger at his friends who were supposed to be looking after their friend. Right now, what was important was coaxing Harry out of the club, into the car, and getting him home, or if he needed, to the hospital.

Taking a step forward, Draco watched as Harry turned to face the pole, gripped it with one hand and slowly bent backward so that his legs which were on either side of the pole, and his right hand which gripped it, were the only thing holding him up. From this new position, Harry's face was quite close to Draco's, though upside down, and when the green eyes blinked open once more, Draco was relieved when Harry spotted him and grinned broadly. "Draco," he greeted excitedly; and then Harry pulled himself up, and spun around to face Draco. He stepped onto a stool by the bar, and then onto the ground, and then Draco's own body became the pole Harry had been dancing with before. It was quite difficult, Draco found, to be rational when one's lover was thrusting against you, purring hot breath into your ear, with long fingers rubbing against your chest. Try as Draco might, there were a few moments when he completely forgot what was wrong with the entire situation.

"Shh," Draco soothed, when Harry's thrusts picked up and he whimpered in Draco's ear. "We should head home."

"Mm'kay," Harry answered, and licked a path from the open throat of Draco's shirt up to his chin, then to the corner of Draco's lips where he finally brought their mouths together. "I want fuck youiv," Harry whispered, and grinned quite broadly. Fighting the shiver that raced through him as well as the impulse to drag Harry to the bathroom and fuck right there, Draco was brought out of his thoughts when, quite suddenly, Harry dipped himself backward, relying entirely on Draco's hands which were wrapped about his waist to support him.

"I feel incredible," Harry informed him when Draco had managed to right his lover.

"We're going home," Draco said, and proceeded to manoeuvre Harry towards the entrance of the club. He had no intention of waiting for the others, or informing them of his intentions of taking his lover home, but before he reached the door, Blaise, Seamus and Dean had joined him and began to help him.

Dean drove Draco's car so that Draco could sit in the back with Blaise and keep an eye on Harry. The drive to the apartment was quiet and tense, interrupted only by Harry who was busy looking at a world he had apparently never seen before – fascinated by everything and anything, including the streetlights that flashed by them. Everyone else sat in tense silence, concerned for their friend, guilty that they hadn't kept better track of him, and worried about the inevitable lecture Draco would give them.

It took the four of them to wrangle Harry into the elevator, and by then, they had decided to just stay at the apartment in case they were needed during the night. Blaise, especially, was feeling responsible for what had happened to Harry. He was kicking himself mentally for not keeping a closer eye on his friend, especially during that encounter with the man who had tried to get Harry to dance. Running over the evening in his mind, the only possible time when Harry could have ingested drugs was if the man had put them in Harry's drink when Blaise had kissed him.

"I'll get him some water," Dean said, noticing the look Draco was flashing Blaise. "Come on, Harry," Dean called, tugging on Harry's arm. Harry complied and the two, along with Seamus, disappeared into the kitchen.

"How did this happen?" Draco asked, his tone tight but soft.

"Someone must have slipped it in his drink," Blaise said. "Someone did slip it in his drink."

"Harry always watches his drink. It never leaves his sight," Draco said. "He knows better than this."

"Well – there was this guy who was bothering him. He wouldn't leave him alone," Blaise explained. "I had to tell him Harry was with me." When Draco showed no anger at this, Blaise continued. "He still wouldn't leave, so I kissed Harry. It wasn't anything serious, Draco."

"And Harry had a drink in his hand?" Draco asked, filling in the gap. "And he moved it out of the way while you … kissed. – That would certainly explain how the drugs got in."

"Draco –"

"I don't care that you kissed him. Fuck, Blaise, I'm not idiot enough to think that either you or Harry would do something like that, either to me or to each other. But you were supposed to be –"

"Draco?" Harry called softly, and as Draco turned he saw Harry standing by the open doorway to their bedroom. Shelving the conversation with Blaise, Draco walked over to his lover, stopping when they were a few steps apart. "Draco," Harry said again, a soft hiss.

And just like that, a spell came down on them and caught Draco in its web. Harry reached out and caught the corner of Draco's sleeve, smiling faintly and tugging Draco closer to his body. Draco could feel the heat rising from Harry's body; it washed over him as he pressed close, and Draco forgot everything. Forgot that Harry was drunk and high, forgot that three of their friends were in the same room, forgot his fear, his anger, his concern, forgot everything as his lips came down on Harry's.

They kissed long enough for the world to fade around them -- long enough for Draco to forget that anything but Harry existed -- and then Harry stepped back, a quirk to his lips, and slowly pulled the shirt up his body, tugging it over his head and tossing it to the floor. He stepped forward again, reaching for Draco's hand and bringing his lover's fingers to his lips. Sensation was heightened somehow, and the simple feel of the suction around his finger was driving Draco mad. Until Harry removed the finger and lowered Draco's hand until it pressed against his heart. Harry kept his hand around Draco's wrist and began stepping backward, their eyes locked on each other as Draco followed.

--section omitted due to explicit content—

END PART A

(If you would like to read the full chapter as it was intended to be viewed, please visit my website, the address of which is available by checking my profile at this site. Hope you enjoyed)

i Warning: minor drug use occurs in this chapter. Also, I would like to make it clear that, as someone who has never done drugs, I have no idea what the effects of being high or whatever are like, nor whether it is plausible for certain drugs to be mixed into certain drinks. Yeah, I'm an idiot, so sue me, but don't flame me because I'm trying, I really am, but I'm not going to go out and get high or whatever just so I can write a plausible scene – sorry to disappoint. -

ii I imagine Harry playing Rachmaninov's 'Vocalise' in this section.

iii Yeah, yeah, lighting in the club would make reading Harry's pupils difficult/impossible – go with it.

iv Though I don't write it into the fic, it is my belief that Harry is not always bottoming for Draco, I just write him that way because I like bottomHarry – he's hot that way, but that's a personal pref. But you can read into it as you like – I purposely wrote the fic to accommodate that so go right ahead. Just a reminder that I in no way am presenting every little aspect of their lives, in any regard. Just like the prequel, I would remind you that sometimes I'm not going to tie all the loose ends-up, I think a little ambiguity is good for the imagination! And hey, that's just life.