Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling or Taylor Swift so I own nothing but the plot :)

Chapter 2

'Cause there we are again in the middle of the night, we're dancing around the kitchen in the refrigerator light.

The next day passed much the same as it always did for Harry. He got up, went to work, and returned home to an empty house. On the good days he would force himself to eat something, usually takeaway as he never had the motivation to actually cook anymore. On bad days he would skip eating anything altogether and stick to an all liquid dinner.

Today was a bad day. Harry walked in the door, quickly changed out of his work robes and into his pajamas, and flopped down into his chair. He flicked his wand to reassemble the glass that he had shattered the night before and poured himself a generous amount of firewhisky, which he promptly downed in one large gulp. He refilled his glass and fell into his usual routine of attempting to think about anything other than Draco and quickly giving in to replaying various memories from their time together. He sighed in frustration, trying to delay the inevitable.

Harry downed his second glass of firewhisky and briefly entertained the notion that he should slow down a bit. He knew what he was doing wasn't healthy, but he couldn't seem to care. At some point, he was sure that everything would start to hurt less, and he wouldn't feel the need to attempt to drink his weight in alcohol every night. Time heals all wounds, after all. He was clearly not at this point, however, as one year ago today was the night that he and Draco had run into each other out at a club and the relationship was set into motion. Harry had been in a foul mood all day, and he was sure that his co-workers could tell that something was not right with him. Ron had stopped by and asked him to lunch, and Harry had simply snapped that he was too busy. Ron hadn't even attempted to ask him what was wrong the rest of the day, as he had gotten accustomed to Harry's odd, seemingly unprovoked mood swings. He really did need to work on masking his feelings better. If he didn't start being more careful, he was bound to be ambushed by Hermione to talk about what had been going on. As much as he would love to have someone to vent to, he couldn't bring himself to go against Draco's wishes and out their relationship, even to his two best friends.

As the effects of the alcohol began to kick in, Harry couldn't stop the memories that began to surface in the forefront of his consciousness. He valiantly tried to block them out by downing the rest of his third glass of firewhisky but found he was unsuccessful. And before he knew what was happening, he found himself remembering every detail of the night that he and Draco had met again.

One year ago

Harry sat at the bar of his favorite Muggle club, sipping on a glass of whiskey on the rocks. He slowly surveyed the dance floor that was essentially a large group of men grinding on one another at this point in the night. Harry had stumbled upon this club a few years ago before he officially came out in the wizarding world. It was a place that he could be himself when no one knew that he was gay, and he continued to come here every once in awhile when he got overwhelmed with the dating scene in wizarding London. He would never date a Muggle because it would just be too hard to keep such a large part of his life a secret, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy a night out once in awhile. There were times when Harry just wanted to be Harry and not The Chosen One to the men that he met. And so here he was, back in the Muggle club, quietly observing, looking for a man to dance with. Preferably a blond, fit man at that. He seemed to have a thing for blonds.

Harry ordered another drink and settled back against the bar, casual and relaxed. A few men had come over to talk to him over the past couple of hours, but no one worth his while. He was at the point in his life where he would be happy to meet a hot stranger and fuck him into the mattress, but he was also perfectly content going home alone if no one caught his eye. As he sat revelling in his mild buzz, he considered turning in for the night. That was until someone came up behind him and whispered into his ear, so close his lips almost brushing Harry's ear, "Surprised to see you here, Potter."

Harry tensed in shock and whipped around to face the man, a scathing response on his lips because there was only one person to whom that voice could belong. Whatever response he had had prepared died on his lips when he took in the sight in front of him. It was indeed none other than Draco Malfoy, but that wasn't what gave Harry pause. It was the fact that the man in front of him was drop dead gorgeous. He wasn't sure how he had never noticed it before, but he was tongue tied as he took in the man before him. He was wearing a dark blue button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the color reflecting in his eyes making them more blue than the normal steely grey. The first two buttons on said shirt were unbuttoned, revealing the top of a pale, toned chest. Malfoy's bottom half was clad in a pair of perfectly fitted jeans that Harry was sure if the man turned around would showcase his arse quite beautifully.

Once Harry had thoroughly taken in every detail of the other man's appearance, he raised his gaze to meet Malfoy's. He was unsurprised to see the man in front of him had his signature amused smirk on his face, obviously privy to what exactly was causing Harry's delay in responding to him. "If you read the Prophet you wouldn't be nearly as surprised," Harry quipped, referring to the article that had been front page a few years back announcing the sexuality of the Boy Who Lived. "I am, however, surprised to see you here."

Draco shrugged and raised his glass to his lips, making his throat bob enticingly. "Sometimes it's nice to go somewhere everyone just thinks you have a cool tattoo on your forearm," he responded, his eyes daring Harry to make a derogatory comment.

Harry was surprised at how similar their reasons were for being at this particular club. "Or where people just think your lightning bolt shaped scar is a random coincidence and nothing more than an ordinary scar," Harry added on, tipping his drink towards Draco in a mock toast.

If Draco was at all thrown off by Harry's statement, he didn't show it. He simply tilted his drink as an imitation of Harry's gesture. "To anonymity," he said with a genuine smile. And Merlin, what a smile it was. Harry wasn't sure that he had ever seen the other man actually smile, and he couldn't help but regret it. The man had an amazing, infectious smile that made his eyes twinkle and the corners of his eyes wrinkle.

Harry smiled brightly back. "Hey, Malfoy, let me buy you a drink," he suggested as he watched Draco drain the glass he as holding.

Draco regarded him for a minute before responding, "Okay, on two conditions." Harry raised an eyebrow inquisitively, urging the other man to continue. "One, when we have finished the next round, you dance with me. And two, you use my given name."

Harry blinked in surprise, not at all expecting either request, particularly the second one. "Alright, Draco," he began with a smile, enjoying the feel of the blond man's name in his mouth. "But you can't get mad if I step on your feet."

Draco chuckled in response. "I would expect nothing less. I remember the Yule Ball, Harry."

The minute that his name came out of Draco's mouth, Harry knew he was a goner. He had no idea just how far they would take things, but he knew in that minute that he would remember this night for a long time. The look in his eyes, his low, husky voice, the fact that he was using Harry's first name for probably the first time ever: the combination of it all unleashed something deep inside his belly that he had never felt so strongly and so suddenly. It was passion and lust and attraction, but so much more than all of that. It was a feeling that Harry couldn't explain or pinpoint exactly but had known was significant.

The pair had ordered another round and finished their drinks between playful banter and small talk about nothing of importance. Harry had been surprised by how comfortable it all felt. He would have expected this to be awkward, given their history. Hell, the last time he had seen the other man was when he spoke in his defence at his Death Eater trial. There was nothing awkward about the conversation, however, and there was even less to complain about when they hit the dance floor. Merlin, could Draco move. He was like pure sex on legs, and Harry had been immediately entranced by him. Time had flown by on the dance floor, and before they knew it, the club was closing.

Harry panicked. He wasn't ready for the night to be over and to say goodbye to the gorgeous man next to him, whom he hadn't even gathered the courage to kiss yet. He looked over at Draco who seemed to be stifling a yawn. "Salazar, am I knackered. But also drunk and bloody hungry. Why aren't there any restaurants open at this time of night in this neighborhood?" he asked with a pout.

Harry couldn't help the amused look on his face or the words from spilling out of his mouth before his brain had a chance to process them, "Come to mine, and I'll make you food."

Draco's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but his only comment was, "Keep talking like that, and you may just find yourself on the receiving end of a mindblowing blowjob."

Harry felt himself blush as he pulled the other man into a deserted alley and Apparated them both to his house. He promptly busied himself in the kitchen, trying not to dwell on the blond's comment. "How does eggs, bacon, and toast sound?" he called to Draco, who was looking around the living room.

Draco appeared a moment later in the doorway, a goofy grin on his face. "Sounds perfect," he replied.

As Harry began to gather the ingredients for their meal, he could hear Draco moving around the kitchen behind him. When he turned around, he couldn't help but burst out laughing. "What in Godric's name are you doing?" he sputtered.

The other man stopped moving for a moment and gave Harry an angry look. "I'm dancing! What does it look like I'm doing?" he retorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Just that, I suppose, but why?" Harry asked, turning back to cast the necessary spells to prepare the food.

"Because I wasn't done dancing!" Draco whined with a pout.

Harry felt the laughter bubble up once again and tried very hard to not let it leave his mouth, knowing that it would likely upset the blond even more. "Merlin, you are pissed," Harry commented with a small smile. "You're lucky I think it's cute."

With a flick of his wrist, the food flew into the proper cooking accessories and began to cook. As he was making sure everything was where it was supposed to be, he felt Draco press himself against his back. "If you know what's good for you, you'll join me," he breathed, his lips brushing Harry's ear as he talked.

Harry moaned quietly and choked out, "Is that so?"

"Oh yes, I'll make it very worth your while," Draco assured him seductively, turning him around so that their chests were pressed together. And then he began to sway his pelvis, making sure that their lower halves were as close as possible. With the first brush of Draco's erection against his, all rational thought left Harry's mind and all he could think about was how to get even closer to the man in front of him. The pair continued to sway to the imaginary music, eyes locked, their lust-filled stares mirrored in the other's eyes.

And that was how Harry almost burned their meal. Luckily, he had had the forethought to set a timer for the food, but when the alarm went off, both he and Draco almost jumped out of their skins, so caught up in each other they had been. They had then eaten breakfast at a record pace. When they had both finished, Draco met Harry's eyes with a piercing gaze, his eyes blown wide with lust. "I do believe I owe you a blowjob," he husked, eyes never leaving Harry's as his tongue flicked out to wet his lips.

Harry jumped out of his seat, grabbed Draco's arm, and Apparated them straight to Harry's bedroom. It was there that they had shagged each other silly, only going to sleep when the sun was beginning to come up.

Harry had lost count of the glasses of firewhisky that he had consumed a long time ago, but he knew he had drank far too much. He now lay on the couch, too exhausted emotionally and too unsteady on his feet to move to his bedroom. He would regret not moving in the morning, particularly because he would wake up with quite the hangover. He couldn't find himself to care at that moment, however, because Draco was gone. Draco was gone, and he wasn't coming back. Harry had pushed him too far, too fast, and now he had to live with the consequences. And for the first time in 47 days, Harry Potter felt himself dissolve into tears.