Step to the left. Step to the right. Twist. Turn.
Was it a jump next?
Fuck. This.
The incessantly annoying voice of their choreographer rang out over the stadium. Amplified 300 fold by the wand he held aloft to his throat, the whiny, nasal sound was ear splitting. Looking to his left, Draco Malfoy took in the strained, tired faces of his band mates: none of them dancers by nature. This last leg of their world tour was quickly becoming a nightmare.
100 shows.
100 venues.
Complete chaos.
The Heartbreaker's front man swept his platinum blonde hair away from his face, tousling it into his trademark mess. Effortlessly handsome and roguishly reckless, Draco had been the clear choice for the music moguls, a meal ticket for many with dollar signs in their eyes. Piercing silver eyes and a svelte body honed with dedicated hours in the gym, Draco's brand had swept the world, young and old alike fawning over him.
Although right now he felt like death incarnate.
Blaise would have to die.
24 hours ago
The young Malfoy heir had been safely aboard the tour bus, expressly forbidden by their manager to seek out any trouble during the short stop in California.
23 hours ago
Blaise had arrived. And with his signature way, had convinced not only Draco and his band mates, but the bus driver to head to Hollywood.
22 hours ago
Draco remembered being mobbed entering the club, the sight of Blaise and the Heartbreakers too much to handle for many an inebriated girl.
Swishing long red hair away from her face, the barmaid struggled to hear above the din in ViperLounge. Men ogling her body and women laughing over just how funny it was to fall off their stools was growing boring on a routine Saturday night. Pouring her thousandth tequila shot, Marie spied a commotion on the dance floor.
Finally. Excitement.
The club's security was swarming, men built like houses shouting into earpieces. Straining, she caught a glance of movement towards her bar, a group of partygoers more raucous than the rest. Writing it off as a collection of overexcited, 'just legal' celebrators, she returned to her stock take, unimpressed.
However, the noise was now audible over the DJ, a sign of trouble to come. Emerging from the throng were two men, Marie straightening as it became clear whom her next customers were. In his black Jordan's, dark ripped skinny jeans and oversized black and white basketball jersey, Blaise was undeniably gorgeous. To his left was a boy she saw daily, splashed over walls, TV's and magazines. Dressed similarly to his friend, Draco had put on an oversized black sweatshirt, the words 'Commes Des Fuck Down' clearly visible on the front. A blur of movement and Blaise's tanned arm was resting on the bar, his multiple tattoos shining under the club lights. Laughing at his friend, he was feeling immortal, an untouchable aura surrounding him. Marie reacting quickly to the high profile guests slunk over to them, moving her hips in a way to keep every eye trained on her.
"What can I get for you boys?" Her southern accent dripping sex, she held onto the last syllable, drawing attention to her pouted rosebud mouth.
Blaise took her in with an appreciative glance, finally resting on her face, a small smile playing on his lips. Drunk on life at 21, Blaise was richer than the gods, a product of his insanely successful rap career. A rare mix of Jamaican and Dutch, he had inherited smooth tanned skin, chiseled cheekbones and clear green eyes. Easily bedding more women than humanely necessary, when his star had begun to shine. Then, Ginny, his fire starter, had come along. A goddess amongst mortals, he had been instantly infatuated. However as any addict will tell you, old habits die-hard and the mischievous look in this barmaid's eyes was enticing to him, still riding too high after his latest album release. Fixing her with a playful look he motioned for her to come closer, speaking clearly and authoritatively into her waiting ear.
"Well, sweetheart what's on offer?"
Draco shaking his head looked away, not caring for Blaise's blatant toying with this girl, finding her thirst pathetic. Looking up he noticed their group of fans parting allowing a sandy coloured head to make their way through. Instantly recognizing the newcomer as Yuri Ivanoff, Draco smiled widely, hugely gratified at the sight of another one of his boys. Reaching them, Yuri threw his arm around Draco's neck and turned, shouting to the crowd,
"Shots, anyone?"
A huge cheer went up and the chant of 'Shots! Shots! Shots!' rang out over the dance floor. Standing at 6"2 Yuri was instantly identifiable, fresh off his most recent movie tour and global heartthrob. Typically found with a surfboard or practicing Yoga with Luna, the blue eyed, All American boy was at the top of his game. Dressed simply in washed out blue jeans and a ragged white t-shirt, his tanned skin was glowing, the happiness at seeing Draco and Blaise apparent. His inconspicuous entrance had many of the women in hysterics, some physically throwing themselves at the barrier of bodyguards, rebounding with a dull thud each time. Yuri turned and embraced Draco, both boys grinning widely with euphoria at being back together.
"Dude, how come you're here!"
"Luna headed back early for a pre-reunion with the girls, fuck knows what that is, and I knew you boys were here for the show at the WizStadium so I figured Blaise would drag you out!"
Yuri's deep voice was picking up, the alcohol and excitement clearly evident. Blaise, finally breaking from his cocoon of sexual innuendos and inappropriate flirting with the bartender, turned and saw Yuri.
"YURI!"
Blaise bounded over to them, all thoughts of the woman behind him dissipated. Throwing an arm around both his boys' necks, the he dragged them over to the bar.
"You", he motioned at the barmaid clearly having forgotten her name, "How would you like to make a thousand bucks tonight?"
Ten minutes later, Marie was lying on the bar topless, 10 shots of tequila in a straight line from her breasts to just above her waistband. Surrounded by eager fans chanting their approval, the three boys fed off the energy, behaving with reckless abandon as only adolescents can.
"I need to get a picture of this for Ol." Yuri pulled out his phone and positioned himself with the best shot of the boys and Marie, to send to their missing fourth member, Oliver Wood.
Blaise and Draco started from opposite ends, neither seeing the photographer placed surreptitiously behind the DJ booth. This shot of Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, topless Marie and Yuri Ivanoff, would make front pages worldwide. Taking their first shot the two boys winced, whilst Yuri hollered loudly.
Three shots later and Draco's memory went black.
Today, the Heartbreakers front man was ready to rip out his silver hair. Their tour manager had lost his shit, the choreographer couldn't understand how fragile each member of the band was, and Hermione was giving him the silent treatment ever since the infamous photo had been plastered globally.
The Heartbreaker's drummer, Kyle, bent over and vomited on stage.
It was obvious.
Blaise would have to die.