Harry hesitated stepping over the threshold into the dark interior. Draco's hand was on the small of his back, and Harry could swear he gave a firm push that finally got him moving.
The private club was elegant and old, with dark wood panelling covering the walls and thick, deep red rugs on the floors. A long hallway was covered with paintings of the most famous Slytherins, all moving within their frames to look at Harry with great suspicion.
At the end of the hall, there was a large room with several fireplaces, the golden light they gave off dancing over the people gathered there. A couple dozen faces seemed to turn towards Draco, and he was greeted warmly.
His arm now firmly around Harry's lower back, Draco guided him to each person in turn, introducing him with perfect manners. Harry was surprised that almost everyone was a few years younger, with bright eager faces of those who were embarking on their new careers. None of them with the hardened eyes of those who had fought in the war.
Harry was welcomed, but it all felt a bit stuffy and formal. Were these really Draco's friends?
Draco had also introduced him to the few older men there, likely too old to have been that involved in the last wizarding war. He pushed Harry into a chair near a fireplace when he had to rush off to discuss an upcoming Stormcloud event with someone, apologizing and promising he wouldn't be long.
"Firewhiskey?" A senior sitting in an armchair nearby offered, waving a hand towards the crystal decanter and glasses on the table between them.
Even though he had been drinking a lot less lately, Harry felt the need for a drink now. He poured himself a couple fingers' worth and took a sip. The flavor was a subtle blend of smoke, peat, and a hint of dark chocolate. He let out an appreciative hum.
"Fifteen year old Blishen. Never touch that Ogden swill," the man said, lifting his own glass in salute. "So, you are Harry Potter. I hope you don't expect me to be impressed."
"I don't expect anything," Harry replied, finding it a bit refreshing to be around people who didn't immediately stare at the scar on his forehead in awe.
"I knew your grandfather, of course. Fleamont was a few years older than me, and quite gifted at potions. He was also fierce when dueling, which you could imagine he'd have to be with a name like that."
Information about his family always intrigued Harry, and he turned towards the man. "Do I look at all like him, Mr. Flint? People often say I take after my father's side of the family."
The old gentleman peered at Harry a little closer, and then shrugged. "It's hard to say. Fleamont and his wife died suddenly from dragon pox, so it's been ages since I've seen him. Plus, he always wore his hair slicked back with that damn hair potion. You should maybe use it on yourself." His eyes flicked up to Harry's tousled hairstyle.
"Oh right, that Sleekeazy stuff," Harry said, vaguely remembering someone mentioning that it contributed greatly to the gold in the Potter's vault. Fleamont Potter had invented it.
Mr. Flint took a long sip of his drink. "At least he wasn't alive to see his only son marry that mudblood."
Suddenly, Harry wasn't feeling as interested in talking with the old man. "So, you believe the Sacred Twenty-Eight should just keep on intermarrying? Your grandson Marcus has those horrible huge teeth, and had to repeat his final year. Are those really traits you want passed on?"
Mr. Flint slammed his glass down on the table, sitting up straighter to glare at Harry. "What do you know about anything? After your foolish parents got themselves killed, you were raised by muggles."
"I learned a lot living with muggles, actually. The muggle royal families were a lot like your 'sacred twenty-eight', all marrying cousins off to each other. And you know what happened? A lot of them ended up with a horrible blood disorder, haemophilia," Harry snapped back, and jumped out of the chair to find Draco.
The club was like a rabbit's warren of rooms, with gatherings of Slytherin no doubt hatching their newest plots and plans in each one. After walking through a few and not finding Draco, Harry plunked himself down on a big armchair near a fire in a quiet corner. Just taking a minute to settle down.
He really shouldn't judge all Slytherin's based on one bigoted old man. Clementine wasn't anything like that, and Draco had certainly changed his own views.
Looking to the side he saw a large glass terrarium, and leaning closer, noticed a large snake inside. There was nobody around, so Harry tried hard to remember an old skill. 'Hello,' Harry said finally, in Parseltongue.
The snake lifted it's diamond-shaped head at hearing that, flicking out it's forked tongue. 'Was that you?' it hissed back.
Just hearing the language seemed to awaken that underused part of Harry's brain. 'Yes. My name is Harry.'
'They call me 'Papa', likely because I'm a Papuan olive python. But I'm actually female.'
Harry chuckled, looking over her olive green skin, with a lighter grey-green belly. 'Do they take good care of you?' He could see why the Slytherin club would have a live green snake, but hoped she was treated well.
'Yes, but I get a bit bored and lonely.' She seemed to be looking at Harry with curiosity.
"There you are, Harry. I was looking everywhere for you, and here you are in a corner hissing at a snake." Draco stood beside Harry's chair, a bit of a smirk on his lips.
Harry stood up. "Sorry, needed to get away from Mr. Flint."
"Yes, he's awful," Draco said, and tugged at Harry's sleeve. "Come along. A few of my friends are here now and we are going to play poker."
"I don't know how," Harry sputtered.
Draco grinned. "They hardly do either. I used to play a lot, at that place I used to work." And Harry knew he meant at the brothel, even though he hadn't spelled it out.
Harry looked down at the snake, not wanting to leave her right after she had said she was lonely. "Would you mind if I bring her with us?"
"You really want to greet my friends with a snake draped around your neck?" Draco chuckled.
'I'm going to play cards. Would you like to come along?' Harry asked Papa, not caring if his hissing sounded odd to Draco.
Papa nodded immediately. 'Lower your arm and I'll climb up it.'
It was a little strange, feeling the medium-sized snake working up his body and settling along his shoulders, her slim tail circling along the base of his neck.
"Is this your way to keep me from pushing you against a wall again? Some type of chastity device?" Draco smirked, taking Harry's hand to pull him along.
They arrived in a cozy room with a large round table in the centre. The four people sitting there stood up when they entered.
"It took you long enough," Pansy Parkinson huffed, giving Harry an unimpressed look. She looked much the same as she had at Hogwarts, with shoulder-length dark hair and a hard face. The only difference was that she was wearing a dark green dress instead of school robes.
Draco gave her a stern look. "You promised to behave, Pans."
"Fine," she sighed, and walked over to Harry with her hand outstretched. He shook it out of surprise more than anything, reminded that the tradition was born out of greeting enemies, a way to prove you weren't holding a weapon. "Nice snake," she commented dryly.
"It's not mine," Harry rushed to say, probably sounding like an idiot.
"Hi, Harry. It's been a long time," Blaise Zambini said, his deep voice seeming unperturbed by Pansy's rudeness. He shook Harry's hand as well, scanning him over thoroughly.
Harry had seen pictures of Blaise out with Draco in the papers when he had first returned to London. He had studied those pictures closely, and Blaise looked much the same. A tall, handsome black man, dressed impeccably in a grey suit.
Draco introduced Harry to the other two men, both in their early twenties and attractive. Harry recognized them from other newspaper photos, as guys that had been going out to gay clubs with Draco, often touching him or standing a bit too close. Harry instantly hated them.
This was going to be a fun night.
Some servers brought in drinks and food, and they were soon settled around the table. Draco explained the rules, as Harry and Mathias hadn't played before. They all had thrown ten galleons into the pot, getting a stack of colourful wooden poker chips in return to play with.
Harry explained the game to Papa, and found she asked intelligent questions in return. She followed along with the game, sometimes giving suggestions. Their communications got a few funny looks, but Harry didn't really care.
Playing poker with Slytherins kept Harry on his toes, as they often tried to bluff. Papa was helpful there, telling him when she could sense someone getting nervous. She even helped Harry take a big pot from Pansy, with only a pair.
Draco seemed happy that Harry was playing hard, and he knew they would respect him more if he was a good competitor. Plus, Harry always liked winning.
Pretty soon, it was down to Blaise, Harry and Draco, the other players having lost all their chips. Blaise and Draco had obviously played the game a lot, betting aggressively when they had an advantage. Harry had pretty good cards and was debating whether he should meet Blaise's raise, or fold.
Draco was sitting on his right, and his free hand had moved to Harry's knee sometime in the last round. It had felt nice, so Harry hadn't moved it away. But now it was slowly moving upwards, making it a little hard to think straight. Was Draco actually going to move his hand all the way up? Would anyone else be able to tell? There was a tablecloth, but would Harry make a noise or give it away with a funny expression?
Suddenly, there was a tightening at his throat, making him gasp and sputter as his airway was cut off. Harry's hands went right to the snake's tail, pulling it away and finding he could breathe again. He took in great, big breaths, just trying to calm down. Everyone around the table was staring at him in shock.
"Are you OK?" Draco asked, his wand out and pointing Papa, his eyes shifting between Harry's face and the snake, watching for another attack.
Harry held out his hands in a calming gesture. "Wait. I'll see what's happening." He didn't particularly want anyone shooting at the snake and hitting him in error.
'What are you doing?!' he hissed, looking down at Papa.
She tilted her head and flicked her tongue. 'That man was trying to distract you. I could feel your reaction to him. I had to shake you out of it.'
'By choking me?' Harry hissed back.
'I'm a constrictor. It's what we do.'
Harry sighed. 'Thanks for the 'help', but next time just flick your tail against my chin or something. They almost hexed you into next week.'
'Yes, the man is very scared. He cares a lot about you. The others were mostly just amused.'
"She won't do that again," Harry told everyone, picking up his cards that had somehow landed facedown when he dropped them. He just wanted everyone to put down their wands and relax. Get back to the game. It was actually an excellent hand. "All in," Harry said, shoving all his poker chips into the centre pile.
"Woah, almost dying has made you more daring," Blaise said, chuckling as he pushed his chips forward.
Draco followed the motion. "Gryffindors. They are the risk takers, right?" He grinned at Blaise.
It was a tense moment when they laid down their cards. But as soon as he figured out he had the best hand, Harry was on his feet and laughing.
'You won! They are so mad!' Papa hissed in his ear.
Looking at the table, he could see five sets of eyes glaring at him, clearly not impressed at all. Even Draco seemed a little irked at Harry winning.
"Um, I'll just go put the snake back," Harry said, easing out of the room.
He settled Papa back in her terrarium. 'Thanks for helping me with the game. That was fun.'
'Perhaps we will do it again sometime,' she said, winding into an elegant coil. She seemed sleepy.
Harry stroked along her sleek back, and then returned to Draco. The chips and cards were all packed away. Draco handed him the galleons he had won.
"Well, it was nice playing cards with you all," Harry said awkwardly, glancing at the Slytherins.
"Same time, same place next week, Potter. I want a chance to win my gold back," Pansy hissed, her arms crossed tightly across her chest.
Harry glanced at Draco. "Um, sure, I guess we could play again."
The others were nodding in agreement. Draco took Harry's hand, leading him out of the club. Once outside, he tugged Harry close. "You were fantastic. You played them all, even me. Keeping us distracted by hissing at that snake the whole time. You've actually played poker before, right?"
"Um, no. Never," Harry fumbled to say, a bit distracted by Draco's words and his closeness. Fuck, he wanted to kiss him so much right now.
Draco leaned in, giving him a light kiss that was far too short. "So brilliant. They are going to be practicing all week, just so they can beat you next time." He seemed quite amused at that. "'Night, Harry."
And he was gone, apparated away, before Harry could hardly mumble goodbye.
...
"How many dates has it been now?" Ron asked, as he dealt out the cards.
Harry picked them up and grimaced. Nothing good. "Six! And I have no idea what to do next."
Hermione sighed. "Harry, you can't show your expressions so clearly when you look at your cards. Haven't you ever heard of a 'poker face'?"
"Poke Her Face?" Ron chuckled. "With what? A stick?"
"Poker face. It's a term I read about in 'The Theory of Poker'. Some players even wear sunglasses and baseball caps to hide their expressions," Hermione patiently explained, motioning for Ron to give her two new cards.
Ron matched her bet. "What did you do on the last couple dates?"
"I took him to the hospital to play with the kids, and to have coffee with Tatsuo. They got along well, but Draco was fantastic with the kids. Rolling around on the floor, building forts, and playing I Spy." Harry said as he raised another yellow chip.
"You call that a date?" Ron asked.
Hermione nodded. "It's not exactly romantic, Harry. What did you do the next date?"
Harry squirmed in his chair. "We went to one of his work events. A debate."
He knew as soon as he said it that it sounded bad. But it had been a great night. They had sat together in the crowd, getting into the energy of the well-argued debate. The event was sold out like always, and everyone there seemed to hold strong opinions on the topic. It was about the magic of non-human species. Some agreed that only humans should have wands, and should remain in power. Others argued on the value of having more diverse representation in government.
Harry had experiences with house elves like Dobby, centaurs like Firenze, and goblins like Griphook. They were all sentient beings who deserved respect. He definitely leaned towards that side of the debate.
But what had made the event so special was sharing it with Draco. They had held hands most of the time, pressed together along one side, and Harry loved having him close. Smelling his cologne, watching his expressions, hearing him laugh. Occasionally, Draco leaned in to whisper comments in Harry's ear, the sensation so distracting he almost couldn't pay attention to what Draco said.
Afterwards, Harry had been at Draco's side as he shook hands with everyone on the panel, and then went out for drinks with Michael Corner, dissecting the whole event together, figuring out what went well, and what could go better. Seeing the inner workings of his business.
Ron and Hermione shared glances, practically communicating telepathically by now. They had been a couple so long.
"Do you want to be his friend, or something more?" Hermione finally asked.
Being around Draco so much these past few weeks had shown Harry more about the man than two months with him that summer. "I want more. I can't stop thinking about him."
Perhaps that was why he was having problems planning the next dates. He was running out of time. Draco seemed to be enjoying the dates, and they had shared quick kisses most nights. There seemed to be more touching, like Harry's back, his shoulder. Their legs in contact when they were sitting. And he loved holding hands.
Harry was going half crazy at night, fantasizing about what he wanted to do to Draco once the dates completed. Maybe they should take some time off and spend it in bed. Getting reacquainted in every way.
"Harry!" Ron said loudly, jarring him back to the present. "This game is over. You are useless tonight."
"Sorry! Sorry!" Harry said. "Let's continue. I promise I'll concentrate."
They played on, throwing out date ideas as they went. By the end of the night, Hermione had all the chips. But Harry had some good ideas. He felt nervous but excited.
...
-A/N: This fic is taking me different places then I expected at times. I had intended the story to be 25 chapters or less, but it is turning out to be longer. There are only two more chapters, and I'll likely post the next one on Sunday. Thanks for reading!
-Fleamont Potter: According to Pottermore: "Fleamont was so called because it was the dying wish of Henry's mother that he perpetuate her maiden name, which would otherwise die out. He bore the burden remarkably well; indeed, he always attributed his dexterity at duelling to the number of times he had to fight people at Hogwarts after they had made fun of his name. It was Fleamont who took the family gold and quadrupled it, by creating magical Sleekeazy's Hair Potion ( 'two drops tames even the most bothersome barnet' )." He died of dragon pox when James was only 19 years old, the year before Harry was born.
-Marcus Flint: He attended Hogwarts from 1986-1994, sorted into Slytherin house. He was a Chaser in quidditch, becoming captain from 1991-1994, and letting Draco join the team in 1992 when his father bought them all Nimbus 2001 brooms. He had to repeat his last year, from failing his exams initially.
-European Royalty and Haemophilia: "Haemophilia figured prominently in the history of European royalty in the 19th and 20th centuries. Britain's Queen Victoria, through two of her five daughters, Princess Alice and Princess Beatrice, passed the mutation to various royal houses across the continent, including the royal families of Spain, Germany and Russia. Victoria's son Prince Leopold, Duke of Albany also suffered from the disease. For this reason, haemophilia was once popularly called "the royal disease". (Wikipedia)
-Haemophilia: "A mostly inherited genetic disorder that impairs the body's ability to make blood clots, a process needed to stop bleeding. This results in people bleeding longer after an injury, easy bruising, and an increased risk of bleeding inside joints or the brain. Those with a mild case of the disease may have symptoms only after an accident or during surgery. Bleeding into a joint can result in permanent damage while bleeding in the brain can result in long term headaches, seizures, or a decreased level of consciousness." (Wikipedia).
-Papuan olive python: This python is from New Guinea, and olive green in colour. Adults can grow to be 5 meters (17 feet) long, but are lighter-bodied than other pythons, rarely weighing more than 22 kg (50 lbs). They are not common in exotic pet trade, but are hardy enough to adapt well to captivity, being fed commercially available rats. Like all pythons, they are non-venomous, grasping prey with their teeth and wrapping a few coils around it, and death is caused by cardiac arrest, not from being crushed.
-Snake Tongue: "The tongue is flicked out of the mouth regularly to sample the chemical environment. This form of chemical sampling allows these animals to sense non-volatile chemicals, which cannot be detected by simply using the olfactory system. This increased ability to sense chemicals has allowed for heightened abilities to identify prey, recognize kin, choose mates, locate shelters, follow trails, and more." (Wikipedia). In this story, Papa's is using this sense to help Harry.