Story: The Serpentines

Rating: PG-13 (Might change later on)

Disclaimer: Characters belong to JK Rowling. :'( And I make no profit off of this, yadda yadda yadda...

Warnings: AU, HPDM Slash (Eventually!), Non-magic, WiP

Summary: When Harry Potter makes the cut for the nationwide sensation, The Serpentines, he's in for the ride of his life, no thanks to his new band mate, Draco Malfoy. Unfortunately for Harry, he's not as made for being a musician as he thought he was, but he'll be damned if he let's Draco know that, especially when he thinks the other man's got a hidden agenda.

Notes and such: I don't think this was my favorite chapter so far, but I think I kind of needed to have it in there... at least that's what I think right now. Haha, hopefully you guys don't dislike it too much.. If at all. I promise the next one will be more interesting! There will definitely be more interaction between the band members. Um, that's all, I think!

Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy never got along, right from the beginning.

Auditioning to be part of one of the most famous bands in the world at this the time was a nerve-wracking task in its own. Add trying to make your way onto the good side of the lead singer made the whole situation that much more difficult.

Wiping his sweaty palms on his dark jeans that seemed far too casual for this audition, Harry surveyed the small group of people settled on the other side of the light wooden table. The three in the middle Harry knew from pictures and CD cases. They were the remaining members of the band The Serpentines, and they were currently scrutinizing every bit of Harry, from his nervous, awkward stance, to his unruly black locks. They were judging him, and though it wasn't the first time he had felt this way, Harry regretted his choice in attire and lack of charisma. It was these people who would make or break his not-quite-launched music career.

Actually, coming to this audition had been a last minute decision. He adored the band, listened to them religiously almost, and had learned all of their songs on his bass guitar long before one of the members had split. He still remembered vividly the day that it was announced that their bassist had just up and quit the band. Harry had been devastated, calling Hermione over immediately to mourn the split. He had been certain that since they were short a member, the band would either quit altogether, or would just ruin the whole dynamics by recruiting some random bassist that nobody had heard of.

"It has been announced today that Millicent Bulstrode, bassist for The Serpentines, is leaving the band.

The Serpentines, a group made up of vocalist Draco Malfoy, guitarist Astoria Greengrass, and drummer Blaise Zabini, was founded when the two childhood friends, Draco and Astoria, chose to form a band, bringing in former schoolmate and friend, drummer Blaise Zabini. They held auditions for a bassist, and Millicent happened to be lucky enough to be chosen. Though they hadn't expected the millions of followers and sudden fame, The Serpentines have managed to keep such a big fan base, and have released two albums so far, and have been said to be working on their third one at the moment.

Neither reps have yet made a statement about why Ms. Bulstrode chose to leave the band, but we suspect it had something to do with the rumors circulating about her alleged love affair with The Serpentines' manager, Pansy Parkinson, that ended in a dramatic breakup. Though the rumors have not been confirmed that the two women engaged in such matters, it was clear to everyone that an intimate relationship was forming between the two females.

So what's going to happen with the band? Are we going to have to say goodbye to one of the most beloved and influential bands of our time? Will Millicent be replaced, and by whom?"

Of course, Hermione did come over that morning, and knocked some sense into Harry. This happened to a lot of bands, and one person who, in Hermione's opinion, wasn't very good to begin with was not going to ruin it for everyone. She had made him see that this was a golden opportunity for the band to make some changes, better changes.

He owed her everything and then some. Without her smarts, he would never have been able to come here today and try out for this band. He wouldn't have this shot to make his dreams a reality, to make it worth something. Nobody could ever find him a better best friend than Hermione Granger, and that was a fact he was willing to bet his life on.

He was hyperventilating.

The air he had been gulping in quick, short puffs was like a thick fog, almost tangible, and it was choking him. He couldn't breathe, and he could feel his head begin to lighten, his vision swimming in stars and bright lights as it swayed side to side like a ship out on sea.

It certainly didn't help any when the red-headed girl in the front row reached into her sweater, pulling out something red and shiny. The harsh gasp Harry inhaled at that moment was loud even in his ears, and it took all he had not to beg for her mercy right then. He knew, just knew, they were going to have tomatoes! Though this town had weird tomatoes, ones that were far more square than the ones Harry usually saw.

He didn't have time to dwell on the thoughts of the cube tomatoes for long, because he was suddenly spun around, his eyes been forced to meet stormy gray ones. He could literally see the angry clouds in those eyes, how they were swirling and rumbling with the desire to strike lightning at the first potential victim it saw. But the clouds didn't stay sealed in those irises, but rather spread throughout the eyelashes and eyebrows, filling up Harry's vision of the fairies from before with this murky haze. If possible, the brightness of the little spots grew brighter, and Harry had to screw his eyes shut tight in pain, although that only dimmed their light acutely.

His arms felt like dead weight on his body, and his legs like pudding gave him the odd sensation that he wasn't standing, but floating. Floating in the dark fog with the fairies—that's how Harry was going to spend his days from now on. It didn't seem so bad, when you thought about it.

Unfortunately, his newly found friends were trudging away from that fog as quickly as they could. They scurried out of his sight, and Harry could finally open his eyes without being blinded.

Upon gaining his vision back, however, he quickly shut his eyes once more, a feeling of intense embarrassment washing over him. Somewhere between the time he had been turned around, through his fairy adventure, and back to reality, Harry had been dragged to the side of the stage with nearly everybody hovering around him. He could feel and hear the crinkling paper bag that would expand and deflate with each breath he took. Somebody was holding it securely against his mouth, and based off of his quick glance, he guessed it to be Malfoy.

Oh great, Malfoy, who practically hated Harry, was sitting here and being forced to nurse his newbie band mate to good health and consciousness. Could this day get any worse?

"Potter, if you're awake now I'd appreciate it if you could sit up and tell us what the fuck just happened."

Cringing, Harry squinted one eye open and shuffled himself into a sitting position that took longer than it should have, due to his body feeling very weak. He looked around freely now at all the concerned faces, and couldn't help the guilt that pounded behind his heart, next to the incredible soreness that was radiating from his over-exerted lungs.

Hermione was grasping his hand tightly, and he stared at her for a long moment before deciding to speak up so that he wouldn't have to deal with anymore snappy words from Malfoy or anyone else. "I'm fairly certain it was a panic attack," he mumbled quietly.

While it wasn't the truth, it wasn't a lie, either. He did have a panic attack, obviously, it was just brought on by the fact that he apparently had horrible stage fright. But they didn't need to know that. After all, who wanted a performer who was afraid of performing? That just didn't make sense.

"Why?" Someone Harry couldn't see had asked, and a few people nodded, everyone awaiting the answer.

Maybe he could tell them someone had a gun. That would be sufficient reasoning for having a panic attack, and it wouldn't be so uncomfortable for him to announce. That's too far from the truth. He didn't want to scare everyone else, and surely they'd have to cancel the show if everyone thought people in the crowd had guns. Hmm, perhaps he could say he saw someone very menacing in the front row. It was true, too, that girl with the box tomato was very scary. Very scary, indeed.

"I saw someone—they had this thing. It was very frightening, and, er… Well I suppose I just freaked out, a bit." He nodded, satisfied with his answer, and waited for everyone to process it.

"What did they have that was so scary?"

Harry scowled, refusing to answer.

"C'mon Harry, what did they have?"

"Yeah, was it a gun?" Though Harry wanted to say yes, he found himself shaking his head.

"Well, Potter, what was it?"

Sighing, resigned, he murmured quietly, "A tomato."

It was eerily quiet for being on the side of a stage, tons of people only a few feet away, still shouting for them. But not you, Harry, they're not screaming for you. There were a few chuckles that went around the circle, not "that's funny ha-ha" chuckles, but the awkward kind where nobody knew what else to do. His cheeks were burning, and if he didn't know for certain that there were no lighters or matches allowed near the stage, he'd think someone had lit his face on fire. The eyes boring into his downturned head only fueled the growing ghost-fire.

Pale fingers wrapped themselves tightly around Harry's wrist, and for a second the cool temperature of Malfoy's hand felt great on his enflamed skin. But then those fingers were digging into his flesh hard, and he was hoisted up into a standing position and being dragged back towards the stage. His heart began to beat wildly, and a wave of dizziness hit him like a bat to the head, making his feet stumble over one another. This didn't stop Malfoy, though, and Harry felt like a ragdoll being dragged along the ground by a careless child. He tried stopping Malfoy, he really did, but the blond was a man on a mission, and was not going to easily be dissuaded.

"Malfoy, what are you doing? I don't think I can go back out there right now," Harry pleaded for the blond to stop, his voice high and whiney.

This seemed to stop Malfoy, and he turned his venomous gaze on Harry, his eyes narrowed into thin slits that made it seem as though his eyes weren't even open. He could feel himself shrink back into his shoulders at the sight, and could see just how pathetic he looked, reflected back at him through the glassy surface of Malfoy's momentarily thin strips of eyes. "Listen to me, Potter," he hissed, the grip on Harry's wrist becoming impossibly tight. "You are going to go back onto that stage, and play exactly how we have been practicing this past month. You will not screw this up because of a fucking vegetable. Do not tell me that you do not have stage fright, because I can see past your crap you keep spewing. I have worked hard for all this, everything that you have barely stepped foot in has been because of me. Do you understand? This is my life you're messing with, and I will not tolerate it. I have worked too hard for some pathetic, little, immature prick to ruin, just because he can't handle a few lights and people."

Harry wanted to fight back, wanted to yell at Malfoy. He wanted to tell him that he couldn't have done all this on his own, and that he was taking too much credit for his fame. He wanted to give some snarky reply about how tomatoes had seeds, and could also be classified as a fruit, too, not only a vegetable. He wanted to punch Malfoy and run, to leave the band and never return. All of this was all hypothetical for Harry, and all he really could do was sigh and nod, obediently following Malfoy like a kicked puppy.

You can do this, he ran through his head as his new mantra. You will do this, he added, slinging his guitar strap over his head after one of the roadies handed it to him. The rest of the band had already taken their places and were patiently waiting for Harry and Draco to take their spots. Draco went first, shooting Harry a warning glare, before striding elegantly to the center of the stage where the microphone was placed.

"Ladies and gentlemen, good evening!"

A big Cheshire grin was painted on Draco's face, and if Harry hadn't seen that angry stare the blond had given him right before he confidently unhooked the microphone, Harry would have thought him truly excited. He didn't have much time to think on Malfoy's face, because his ears were suddenly assaulted with a deafening noise them emitted from the crowd before them. Reluctantly, Harry turned his eyes onto the formidable crowd, wincing as he noticed that lots of them were staring at him intently.

His heart thu-thumped quickly, and he went back to watching Malfoy, finding that he felt significantly less terrified when his attention was elsewhere.

Using his left hand to hold the microphone, Malfoy made a swift motion with his right hand, his eyes darting to Harry quickly, before he turned back to the crowd. This was a cue, he knew, one to signal that they begin playing the chords in the background as Malfoy announced the band, and just talked in general. It was improvisational, and had Malfoy not been charismatic enough, and a quick thinker, Harry knew that improvisational opportunities might not be the best, especially when around someone such as himself. But Malfoy could handle it. If Harry screwed up somehow, he trusted Malfoy to be able to fix things, and he knew that that was why he had so willingly let Malfoy drag him back on stage and yell at him. He accepted it, because he knew Malfoy was improvising, trying to put the show back on, despite a major setback.

Strumming idly, he went back to his task of watching the blond in action, not ever having a chance to see this side of Malfoy, the performer. Aside from snooty, authoritative, mean Malfoy, Harry hadn't seen much else and this, this Malfoy, was very interesting.

Thankfully, he didn't miss the chord change while he was engrossed with defining this new persona he observed from his lead singer.

He could hear the smooth tones of Malfoy's voice in his ear, the earpiece being a very helpful opponent against the audience. "We're all so very glad you could join us this evening," he was saying, as he bent over slightly, holding onto the microphone stand with his free hand. With his back turned to Harry, the brunette had a better view of the rest of his outfit, the black trousers hugging his legs snug. Where Harry's coat cut off, the deep green thin coat of Malfoy's continued, forming a W shape with the material that made it flow around Malfoy's body when he walked. The outfit, along with his aristocratic features truly made him look as though he was from another era, and Harry couldn't help the nab of jealousy for Malfoy's good looks. The man could probably pull off anything, whereas Harry looked bad in most things he wore.

"We'd like to thank all of you guys for supporting us on our last two tours, and continuing to support us through this one. I know some of you have been here from the beginning, to see us through this life we've made for ourselves, and if it weren't for you guys, well, we wouldn't be here," at this point, Malfoy gave a low chuckle, something Harry was sure was fake. "Although, that doesn't mean we don't appreciate you new fans."

The screams came in a quick jab this time, from who Harry assumed were the "new fans" Malfoy referred to. "We hope that you guys enjoy the show tonight, and that you'll continue to stay fans. Now," he began pacing slowly around the stage, "I believe we have a few introductions to make." The screaming once again intensified, and Harry felt like he was listening to a vocalized tug-of-war match between people screaming, and people being quiet. At the moment, the screaming people were winning.

"We're going to make a little game out of this, though. Let's see if you really know us," Malfoy grinned at the crowd, before turning his back to them, and gesturing around the stage with his hand. "Which of these lovely, lovely, people behind me could I be talking about when I say that they have a particularly curious kink for leather and metal?"

Harry couldn't help but laugh at Draco's very vague description of their drummer, and the not-so-innocent whistles and cat-calls that made their way out of the mass of energetic arms that Harry looked over to.

"Oi! You're all a naughty group, aren't you? I was referring to leather clothes and jewelry of course! Get your minds out of the gutter! Blaise Zabini on drums, everybody!"

What Malfoy had said described Blaise very accurately. Harry had never seen anyone before with so many leather pants and jackets before, who wasn't a biker. And for being a very straight—Harry could vouch for all the women he brought to their shared space—man, he had acquired a large amount of jewelry over the years that he wore often, if not every day. Harry could hear Blaise banging on the drums randomly, and he looked back to see the dark man flailing his arms theatrically, as if to say, "I'm Blaise! Hear my drums!" Snickering, Harry moved back to watch Malfoy, waiting for his next announcement, much like the crowd, but extremely less enthusiastically.

"Now this next person, well, they're a bit of a spoiled brat, really," Malfoy chuckled again, this one sounding genuine as the blond on the guitar stuck her tongue out at him. "Though I'm sure that bit already gave it away, this person also has a quirky sense of style, always dressing so fancy." As if to stress that last word further, Malfoy reached over to fluff the frilly bottom of Astoria's dress. "But I don't know what I'd do without her. Astoria Greengrass on guitar!"

The hoots and hollers came, and Harry absentmindedly thought about how Astoria felt being the only girl in the band, now that Millicent had left.

"Well there's only one person left," Malfoy announced, sauntering over to Harry. He placed is arm around Harry's shoulder in what was—Harry assumed—supposed to be a casual move. However, he had not been expecting it, and as such, the little tune he had been directed to play while Malfoy was talking, turned into something jumbled and musically incoherent. Malfoy's gaze snapped to Harry immediately, that angry spark igniting rapidly in his eyes, and Harry wished he had better control of his body. He didn't mean to be so clumsy, but sometimes these things just happened. Mentally scolding Malfoy for spooking him, he gave him a sheepish grin, resuming playing correctly.

"We don't really know too much about him, ourselves, but we do know that he's one heck of a bass player! Astoria, Blaise and I are happy to welcome Harry Potter to the band, and we're sure you're all going to like him just as much as we do!" Malfoy gave him a wink before moving back to the center of the stage. Whooping yells and more screaming came, whether they were for him or Malfoy, Harry wasn't sure.

"I'm Draco Malfoy, and we are The Serpentines! Enjoy the show!"

"Can you play anything other than the Bass, Potter?" Blondie—Draco—asked.

Harry cringed. He hated when people referred to him by his surname. Not that he didn't like the name "Potter," it just seemed too formal a name to be called by his potential band mate.

"Yes, I can. I've had a sort of musical upbringing, so I can play several instruments. Piano, Saxophone, all that."

"Can you sing?"

"Er," he shot a look around at each person, waiting to see if maybe Draco was joking. He wouldn't be joking, though. This was a band, after all, and members should probably be able to sing for backups and such. "I suppose a little."

Draco smirked. "Sing something for us, then."

You should have just said no, idiot! Gulping loudly, Harry stared down at his scuffed shoes and tried to recall a song, any song! He could sing that one song… No, no! What if they wanted him to sing one of their songs? Whew, it's a good thing he figured this out sooner, rather than later. Clearing his throat, he sang the chorus from one of his favorite songs by them, quite successfully, he might add.

"How," Blondie paused as if he was searching for the right word, "Original, Potter."

Harry's spirit sunk just a bit. He thought he'd been doing, at the best, decently at this audition, but so far it seemed that this guy, Malfoy, really didn't like him. He hadn't even played his guitar yet, and already he felt like this was a complete failure.

But he was failing for the wrong reasons, and despite his severe dislike of confrontation, he was going to give Malfoy a piece of his mind.

Please review! I would definitely appreciate it! And it makes me very happy. :)