"Open up, Draco."
"Alohomora."
Blaise stood in the doorway of the penthouse suite with a frown of mild disapproval. "Were you napping?"
"So what if I was?" Draco scratched his head and yawned. It had been a good nap, filled with the kind of dreams that left him feeling warm.
"It's almost supper time."
"So?"
"So someone needs to call the escort service."
"And that person has to be me?"
"You're bloody well right it has to be you! I've been working for the past two hours. You've been up here sleeping." he stormed in and glared around the living room area.
"Don't say it," Draco recognized the look in his eye.
"If you would find a flat of your own we could let this space out to guests." Blaise said predictably.
"Start booking the penthouse on the other side more regularly and maybe I would see the demand for it," Draco shot back, also predictably.
"It could be a ballroom if we knocked out some walls."
"You're not knocking out my walls."
"Anyway, I've got cocktails to mix. You start calling escort services," Blaise glared at him once more for good measure and stormed out.
Draco tossed his rumpled white uniform into the hamper and changed back into a suit. He straightened his jacket, poked an old Slytherin House pin through his green silk tie, and headed downstairs.
As expected the guests were relaxing by the pool again. Four Aurors were out on the clay tennis court beyond, trying their best to get a volley going. Harry was sitting with Ron, Neville, and the Head Auror, talking closely and sipping mixed drinks that Draco knew would be strong, because Blaise always mixed strong drinks. The man substituted aggression for finesse.
He paused by the cart to pick up a cosmopolitan, exchanging heavily coded looks between himself and his business partner. He won out in the end, but as he raised the glass to his lips he heard a sound that made his blood run cold.
Neville Longbottom was laughing.
It wasn't just any laugh. It was a pissed-on-cocktails, no-inhibitions laugh. And Draco knew that laugh. He knew it well.
"What's wrong?" Blaise spotted his expression and froze. "Draco, what is it?"
"Oh Salazar," Draco set his glass down and ran for the atrium, then doubled back, downed the cosmo in one gulp, and ran for the atrium again.
"What is it?" Blaise ran after him. "What happened?"
"Oh gods, oh Merlin, oh anybody," Draco moaned.
"If you don't tell me—"
"Neville Longbottom is bent!" Draco hissed in the world's loudest stage whisper.
"What? Keep your voice down. What are you talking about?"
"Oh gods," Draco paced and raked a hand through his hair. "You know those parties I used to go to? The masquerade ones?"
"The all-boy affairs, of course I do," Blaise raised an eyebrow, then the other as he made the connection. "You saw Longbottom at one?"
"Yes!" Draco stopped pacing and clutched his stomach. "I only went to three or four. Maybe five. It was just after I got back from the islands and was trying to meet people. After the first two I realized it was mostly the same blokes showing up. Just different masks, different themes. Voices get familiar fast in that kind of situation."
"Get to the point."
"At the third one there was a new fellow. Came with a friend, who said he was just there to meet new people." Draco paced back and forth again. "He ended up standing next to me at the bar and we talked for a bit and then he said—oh fuck, this is bad."
"What?"
"He said 'I want to suck you off.'"
"No! Did you let him?"
"Well what do you think I was going to do? Say no?" Draco's voice rose, cracking from a whisper to a squeak. "Of course I let him! We went out to the balcony and he sucked me off." He buried his face in his hands and groaned. "I recognized his stupid laugh out there. He has the world's stupidest laugh when he's pissed."
"Great Merlin's ghost," Blaise breathed. "If you told me this morning that I would learn that Longbottom is a poof who sucked you off I would have called you a liar."
"What am I going to do?"
"Well," Blaise fluttered his fingers across his lower lip. "Call the escort service and have them send some boys, too."
"I am not having rent boys in my hotel!" Draco snapped. Blaise shushed him with a panicked glance over his shoulder.
"Just go ask him if he'd prefer some companionship," Blaise said.
"You're mad."
"We're a full service resort!"
"You're mad!"
"Go ask!"
Blaise and Draco glowered at each other, each too stubborn to give in. Draco made a feint and Blaise lunged for his wand, so Draco lunged for his wand, and then they were locked in a dueling stance, wands aimed and ready.
"Since we're reliving school days with our old mates perhaps you'd like a Bat Bogey Hex," Blaise growled.
"Mates? You really are mad," Draco snarled in return. "How'd you like to spit slugs for a week?"
"What's going on in here?"
Draco and Blaise whipped their wands back into their holsters and affected mirrored nonchalant poses.
Ron blinked at them from the doorway, Harry was behind him, silhouetted by the setting sun.
"How may we help you?" Blaise smiled, although Draco was certain he detected a waft of venom in his voice, which meant he was feeling off-kilter. Good. He was getting too big for his knickers. Shaking him up a bit would solve that problem.
"I wanted to know—" Ron started nervously, "if you were going to—"
"Ron, don't," Harry said behind him.
"It's fine, Harry, don't henpeck me," Ron whined. "It's just company, it doesn't have to—"
"Would your wife—"
"Don't say it—"
"We will be providing some companionship this evening," Blaise interrupted. "Purely for social enjoyment. Conversation."
"See?" Ron smiled smugly. "Thank you. Will there be beer or just the fruity cocktails?"
"We will provide beer and spirits," Draco said with the thinnest of professional smiles.
Ron pushed past Harry and returned to the pool. Harry scratched the back of his head and chuckled awkwardly.
"Sorry to interrupt," he said, his eyes lingering on Draco. Then he, too, returned to the pool.
"Go call now," Blaise whirled on Draco as soon as they were alone.
Draco stomped off in a huff to the upstairs Floo and made the fastest call for escorts in history. He snapped, "ten girls, Jumeaux, now," and pulled his head out of the emerald flames. It was a good service. They would definitely—
The doorbell rang.
Excellent.
Draco ran lightly down the stairs to the front door and let nearly a dozen beautiful witches in. He was familiar with most, they knew the resort, they would take care of their guests. He kissed each lady's hand as she entered and accepted shawls, robes, and furs with grace. When they walked outside in a line an appreciative cheer went up among the guests.
"Go ask Longbottom if he wants some company," Blaise appeared at Draco's elbow.
"You ask him!"
"I'm certain he would be more comfortable being approached by a," Blaise paused, "teammate."
"Teammate," Draco sighed. "You're an utter twat, Blaise."
"Go now, before he starts feeling uncomfortable."
Draco walked outside and had a look around. Head Auror Chelsey was seated between two girls who were half his age. Several other guests had paired up, too, just conversations and drinks for now. Chef was busy pouring a tall Butterbeer for Ron, whose cheeks were aflame as a tall blonde stood fetchingly at his side.
Neville was sitting with a petite brunette near the diving board, both sipping their drinks in silence. Draco approached casually and gestured for the call girl to give them some privacy. He sat next to Neville and tried not to notice that the man leaned away just slightly.
Don't remember me, eh? Maybe you'd remember if I popped my cock in your mouth and—
"Listen," he said under his breath. "I know you have different preferences, shall we say, and I can make arrangements for a different sort of companion if you'd like."
"I don't understand," Neville stared at him with dopey wide eyes.
Of course not.
"Men, Longbottom, rent boys," Draco enunciated.
"What? Me? Well I, of course I never, I mean," Neville spluttered. "Why would you, I mean I don't—"
"I've seen you at parties."
"Oh," Neville's face went so red that it looked like it would burst.
"It's fine," Draco said. "I was there too."
"Right. Oh! Right!" Neville sat up straight as he understood Draco's meaning. "Listen. Malfoy. Listen."
"I'm listening."
"That was a phase of my life when," he squinted in search of the right words, "I was curious. I wasn't sure what I wanted. But I'm married and we have a baby on the way. It's not that I don't want women, it's that I'm loyal to my wife."
"You'd be the only one," Draco looked around pointedly. "Well, and I guess Potter over there." He pointed at Harry, who leaned against the wall near the door with a drink in his hand, eyes cast downward.
"Oh no, he's gay," Neville shrugged. "Like real gay, not like confused," he smiled awkwardly and touched his own chest.
"Oh." It was Draco's turn to sit up straight. "It would seem I've approached the wrong man."
"I guess so," Neville said. "Malfoy, you won't say anything-"
"It's in the vault, Longbottom," Draco rose to his feet. "I assume you will extend the same courtesy?"
"Of course!" Neville nodded quickly.
Draco waved the brunette escort back over and slowly approached Harry, where he was tucked between the door frame and the window, pressed up against the flagstone wall. He looked up as Draco approached and his miserable frown melted into a relieved smile.
"Hey," he lifted his chin in greeting.
"Hi," Draco shoved his hands in his pockets, then realized how casual he appeared and yanked them free. He crossed his arms across his chest and then dropped them. He cleared his throat and grimaced. "This is hard for me to say."
"What is it?" Harry looked intrigued. He shifted his weight to narrow the distance between them. Draco's heart rate skyrocketed.
"I, well, I was told, and it's okay because I am too, so no judgement, that you, um," Draco winced and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry."
"Who are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?" Harry chuckled softly. The sound made the hairs on the back of Draco's neck prickle.
"What do you mean? Am I usually more eloquent?" he asked, thankful for the momentary distraction.
"No," Harry's smile widened. "You said you're sorry."
"Oh," Draco frowned. He considered ignoring the comment but just couldn't. "You know, it has been five years since we last saw each other, Potter. You might try giving me a chance."
"Maybe," Harry's tone was teasing. "Why, have you changed much?" He shifted casually against the wall, moving a bit closer and leaning in to speak.
"I'd like to think so," Draco shoved his hands back into his pockets. He was suddenly self-conscious about still wearing a suit. "I've tried to make amends, you know."
"I heard rumors."
Harry was staring intensely at him. Around the deck Blaise had lit torches and turned on some music, which lent a party atmosphere to the pool area. The flames reflected off of Harry's glasses and gave him a devilish look. Draco realized that everyone else was socializing, but he and Harry were locked in a conversational duel at the fringes of the activity. He stepped back and mumbled something about guest duties.
"Is the spa open?" Harry asked.
"Well," Draco thought hard. "The reason I came over was to offer to call a male escort service for you, if it would make you more comfortable during the evening social event."
"I can't think of anything that would make me less comfortable, Malfoy," Harry laughed.
"Sorry, Longbottom said you were—"
"I am," Harry said. "But an escort, that sounds bloody awful."
Draco eyed him appraisingly. "I agree," he said in all honesty. "Come on, I'll open the spa."