Flirt by xErised
Dollars to Diamonds
The word count is Frightfully Epic, I know. I guess I was having so much fun in this chapter that I went crazy.
Please do kick back, relax and enjoy. (:
Note the change in rating, people. /grin
It probably wouldn't be that bad, Harry thought, gearing himself up as they stepped over the threshold into the shop. Draco had promised him that they only needed to visit one store for all of Harry's needs, thus squashing Harry's fear of rushing from store to store, laden down with huge bags of purchases.
"We were wondering when you were going to show up, Draco."
"And we see that you brought a… friend with you. Mister Potter, is it not? Oh dear-"
"Mmmm, yes, I think we've got our work cut out for us."
There were two of them. Both men looked as though they were in their late twenties, had their sleek blond hair combed back, their arms folded across their chests, their ankles crossed and were leaning casually on two separate recliners. Their body language was mirrored identically, and the effect was disconcerting, to say the least.
However, one of them was more muscular and dressed smartly in black, while the other was taller, had a lankier figure and dressed equally smartly in blue. The taller one was tapping a finger thoughtfully on his lower lip, while the fingers of the other twin were performing a steady drum-roll on his arm. Harry fidgeted under the gimlet scrutiny from two pairs of calculative blue eyes, feeling inadequate and small in his simple shirt and jeans.
Thanks to his adventures with Fred and George Weasley, Harry knew that twins spelt trouble, and the brunette gulped nervously, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.
"Oh, do excuse us! How completely rude of us, we forgot all about introductions! I'm Parker-" the taller one piped up suddenly, swooping his body into a deep bow.
"and I'm Phillip Ellis. We're both proprietors of the humble shop that you see before your very eyes, and we do hope that you'll enjoy your stay here!" The other twin finished grandiosely, indicating the boutique with a flourish.
"There's no need for such theatrics," Draco grinned good-naturedly and walked into the shop in a leisurely fashion, as though he had been here many times.
"Of course there is a necessity for such formalities! I believe Mister Potter has never patronized us before, so we've got to put up a good show for him, no?" Parker chirped, beckoning Harry to move closer.
The shop was tastefully furnished, complete with abstract paintings that decorated the walls. The pieces of art were rather similar to the ones that Draco had in his office, Harry observed, letting his eyes roam over the store. It didn't really look like a shop; it looked more like a cozy living room, along with an unlit fireplace, rows and rows of shelves with leather-bound books and a delightful medley of comfortable sofas and plush chairs in the middle of the area.
At the sides were racks and racks of clothing and accessories that anyone could ever want for any occasion, although most of the outfits were more suited for evening and formal wear. Expensive lamps hung sturdily from the ceiling, bathing the wares in flattering light. To Harry's left were suits and tuxedoes for the males, color-coded and arranged in a scrupulously neat manner. To his right were designer collections of dresses and gowns of every color and material, ranging from delicate lace to velvety silk and showy, sparkling sequins.
Harry shifted closer, his curious eyes delving further into the store. Adorned on small mannequins were assortments of hats and scarves, and also last but not least, a shocking array of footwear, from polished black shoes for males to dangerously high stilettos and sandals for the ladies.
Harry didn't need to be told that the prices here wouldn't be cheap.
"So how are things with you and Pietro-" Phillip started, but abruptly fell silent when his brother frowned darkly at him. Embarrassed by the slip of his tongue, Phillip flushed and quickly busied himself with tidying the platter of biscuits on the coffee table. Upon hearing Pietro's name, Draco's smile froze briefly before he recovered his equilibrium swiftly. Pulling a crystal champagne flute towards him, Draco tipped the bottle of vintage champagne and filled the glass up.
"I reckon both of you are here for the Zabini wedding?" Parker asked lightly, effectively smoothing over the interrupted air.
"Yes. I need both of you to dress Harry up, from his clothes all the way down to his shoes. I need nothing but the best," Draco instructed and reached over to pluck out a stack of newspapers from the selection of business magazines and publications available.
"You've come to the right place then. Nothing but the best for our Mister Potter, then," Phillip trilled brightly, and as though Draco had given both of them the go-ahead to do whatever they wanted to Harry, the pair of twins rounded on the brunette, their mouths widening into smirks and their mischievous blue eyes narrowing further onto the ex-Gryffindor.
Harry whimpered.
"Green eyes, black hair so messy it should be illegal, but hmmm… pretty good physique…" Parker rattled off Harry's physical attributes, counting them off his fingers while his twin nodded his head furiously.
"So how would you prefer it to be, Mister Potter? Sophisticated and suave? Or charming and chivalrous? Or extravagant, yet efficient? Tell us exactly what you want, and you'll exit here like a new man!" Phillip crooned, his fingers itching to get those sloppy clothes off Harry.
"Um. I… really don't know. It's just a suit, isn't it? I mean, I'm going to be wearing it for only one night, so it doesn't matter much?" Harry faltered, wincing. The twins deflated a bit, biting back impatient sighs. Eventually, Phillip turned and asked Draco what he was going to wear to the wedding.
"The ivory-white suit," Draco replied immediately without missing a beat.
"Ah, that truly is an excellent piece. Now at least we have something to work with! Both of you will be the most handsome couple there!" Phillip clapped his hands with relish, his gaze wafting dreamily from clothes rail to organized clothes rail. Parker matched his brother's inspection, his mind cycling rapidly through his mental catalogue of their merchandise.
"Mmmm, that one should work, that color's fantastic-"
"No, the cutting's too streamlined; it won't match Draco's at all. How about this one-"
"He's got green eyes, it'll clash horribly, ooh, this one will definitely work, based on his tan and his build-"
"Oh, yes, I agree completely, and the shoes, the ties, the jackets, and before we forget, the belts-"
Harry watched with mounting horror as the small pile of approved clothes slowly snowballed into an avalanche of fabric. The twins had their wands whipped out and were swishing them frantically. Harry stared, agog, at the dozens of suits that boomeranged lightning-fast like obedient soldiers from the hangers to the counter beside them.
Well, at least they didn't volunteer to choose his sodding underwear for him.
"I really just need one suit, there's no need for all of this, really-" Harry pleaded.
"What utter rubbish. Life is a fashion show and you've got to learn how to embrace it!" Parker huffed shortly as he turned a golden tie over in his hands, studied it with a trained eye, scowled and immediately sent it back to its original position with a smooth flick of his wand.
"Think we're done for now," Phillip announced and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "Come on, Mister Potter, off to the dressing rooms we go!" With that order, the brothers led the way, accompanied by the two mountain-loads of apparel that levitated happily behind them.
"Draco…" Harry whispered, his eyebrows furrowing forsakenly. In response, Draco widened his eyes innocently, shrugged his shoulders in a show of feigned helplessness and smiled cheerfully at Harry before returning to his paper.
The brunette sighed and trudged towards the dressing rooms, his head peering in warily. The room was airy, spacious and there was even space for a small sofa. Mounted on all four walls were enormous, full-length mirrors. Harry stepped cautiously to the middle of the room and gawked at the amount of clothes that waited patiently for him. The twins had combined them into one pile, and it looked like a monster of epic proportions, rearing up at Harry.
"T-Thanks," Harry stammered and mustered up a watery smile, an indication for them to leave the room and let him undress.
But the twins didn't move an inch, and instead fixed Harry with duplicate expectant expressions.
"What are you waiting for? Come on, take your clothes off," Phillip said, his foot already tapping a monotonous rhythm.
"Excuse me? Aren't you supposed to wait outside while I change?" Harry floundered, his eyes blinking in surprise.
"We do things a bit… differently here. It's store policy for us to be present while the customer carries out a change of our product. By doing this, we ensure that all garments are worn properly and remain undamaged. Additionally, we can also provide a more convincing opinion on the clothes themselves by looking at the more… naked form of the customer," Parker explained smoothly and smiled genially at Harry.
If Harry could run screaming from this place, he would have, without a moment's hesitation.
"Of course, the underwear stays on. We do not wish to anger Draco by looking at your more… private body parts," Phillip interjected slickly upon seeing the utterly speechless and miserable look on Harry's face.
"A-And you do this for everyone?"
Matching nods.
"No exceptions at all?"
Matching shakes of the head.
"I have to do this to buy the clothes here?"
Again, those infuriating matching nods.
"Fine," Harry acquiesced darkly. It was either to obey them, or to storm out, risking Draco's wrath and a definite trip to a few other shops, which Harry did not desire under any circumstances. He just wanted to get this nightmare over and done with.
His face swallowed by a hot blush, the brunette stripped, toeing his shoes and socks off first, then pulling his shirt off and unbuttoning his jeans. The twins eyed him up like a piece of juicy steak, and Parker licked his lips lasciviously.
"Draco does have good taste, doesn't he-"
"Oh yes, definitely, you rough, muscle-laden hunk of man-meat," Phillip snarled hotly as he took a step nearer to the astonished brunette. Harry squeaked and shied away, but he felt Parker step neatly behind him.
Harry wondered if Draco would come bursting in if he hollered 'rape'.
Just outside of the dressing room, Draco stifled a laugh behind his paper.
Immediately, the hungry look on Phillip's face faded, replaced by a comical grin. "I just need to take your glasses off. We're not going to eat you up, Mister Potter."
"I can do that myself, thanks," Harry said hastily and removed his spectacles.
"Wonderful. Since we've got a lot of ground to cover, things will operate in this manner," Parker said and quickly gave Harry a run-down of the machinations of the maneuvers. Apparently, Parker would choose what clothes Harry would try on in a certain sequence, and when Harry was done, he would simply pass them to Phillip who would divide them into suitable piles.
Bloody hell, this was nothing but a vicious cycle, Harry groaned inwardly and slipped on the first shirt. It was a frenzied flurry of movement as the brunette yanked on pants and shoes and divested himself of them as quickly as he had worn them. As a result, Harry's hair stood up in choppy and harried peaks. His skin was rubbed raw from the different textures of the fabrics. The twins were decorating him like a Christmas tree, tossing accessories and apparel at him. Their decisions were made as fast as a snap of the fingers.
"Merlin, Mister Potter, please do not tell us that you have a problem knotting your tie-"
"That ensemble's brilliant, it shows off your shoulders perfectly. Definitely a keep-"
"Oh no, no, not those pants, it makes your bum look saggy-"
"My bum is not saggy!"
"Of course it's not, darling! Clearly a yes for that shirt, complements your skin tone wonderfully… Come on Mister Potter, we don't have the whole day-"
"Goddamn buttons!"
"Absolutely not that tie, no, it doesn't match any of those that we've already chosen-"
And finally, after what seemed like an eternity (but in actual fact was only twenty minutes)-
"And we're done! You've been a wonderful sport, Mister Potter!"
Heaving a huge breath of relief, Harry immediately reached for his original clothes, but was stopped by a firm hand from Phillip.
"It won't do not to show Draco what we've been doing," Phillip said cheekily, wagging a finger admonishingly at Harry. "It's the most perfect one out of all of them, Mister Potter. Put it on, arm yourself with your best smile, and make him go crazy," he continued in a stage whisper.
Harry hesitated for a second, but nodded. Make him go crazy. Summoning up a brave, tortured grin, Harry quickly dressed in the combination of clothes that was thrust in his face. But even before he could look at himself in the mirror, he felt his glasses being perched carefully on his nose and two pairs of hands shoving him out unceremoniously.
"And now we present to you-"
"-the improved Harry Potter!" Phillip finished majestically.
Draco lifted his eyes from his paper and gasped breathlessly. The newspaper fell from his hands and fluttered to the floor as he ogled shamelessly at Harry. The clothes on his body fitted him perfectly, as though it was tailored with Harry exactly in mind. He was dressed completely in black except for a slightly loosened bright red silk tie which provided a striking contrast. His jacket was unbuttoned, revealing a gorgeous shirt that hugged his chest and abdomen comfortably. The whole ensemble gave a slightly scruffy, yet adorable look, suiting Harry's unkempt hair splendidly.
"Wow. I mean, um, yeah, that's good," Draco mumbled, quickly bending down and picking up the paper to hide his erection. Merlin, how am I going to resist him tomorrow night if he's dressed like this, oh God-
Hiding his face behind The Daily Prophet, Draco closed his eyes, took in a few calming breaths to get his heart rate back to normal and the blush to recede in his cheeks. It didn't take long for Harry to exit from the room, a proud swagger evident in his step and looking mighty pleased with himself.
"All of our clothes have Anti-Wrinkling charms on them. If you do need any alterations or any repairs, please do feel free to come back and we'll do it free of charge," Parker explained when both men were at the cashier. "The bill?" he continued delicately. Draco was about to reach for his wand when Harry intercepted him.
"Hey, I'll be wearing them. It's only right that I pay for it."
"But it was supposed to be a present for you, and besides, you don't have enough money-" Draco started, but cut himself off a moment too late.
A dark cloud passed over Harry's features, but it cleared as swiftly as it had arrived. "I can afford this, Draco," Harry gritted out, taking his wand out and streaking it across the receipt. Along with the black suit, the twins had bundled in another five suits, along with a select few accessories. His face blanched when he saw the final price, but it wasn't just money anymore; it was a matter of pride, and frankly, Harry would pay any amount of Galleons simply to see Draco's jaw-dropping reaction earlier.
"Would you like to replace the charms on your earrings, Draco? You did owl us earlier about that matter," Phillip mentioned, an eyebrow raised in query.
"I'll wait outside for you. Thanks for your help," Harry grinned jovially at the brothers, and in reply, both of them winked at him. When Harry was out of earshot, the blond laughed, and it wasn't long before the twins joined in.
"Store policy indeed. Merlin, if Harry knew that the stripping in front of you two was a load of utter nonsense, I don't even want to think of what he'll do to you!" Draco managed through chortles.
Contrary to popular belief, the twins were actually straight. In fact, Parker was happily married with two kids and Phillip was engaged to his girlfriend of two years. The little flamboyant performance that they put up all the time kept the customers coming in droves, and together with their exquisite clothes, business boomed, especially when special events like weddings came up.
Ever since he was a young boy, Draco had always been friends with the twins, simply because the Ellis family had been outfitting the Malfoys for a long time. When the parents of the twins had passed away, it was only natural that the shop should go to the brothers, who knew every nook and cranny of the store like the back of their hands.
Parker's shoulders were shaking with mirth as he refreshed the Polishing and Anti-Tarnishing charms on the set of earrings that Draco had brought along with him.
"He really needed the assistance, truth be told. Did you see his face when we were picking out the clothes?"
And then the three of them burst out into peals of renewed laughter.
"We couldn't help it, really. He looks like a stray puppy," Phillip finished, wrapping the earrings up meticulously and handing the box back to Draco.
"Thanks for today. See you at the wedding," Draco said and bade them goodbye.
"What was going on in there?" Harry questioned curiously, having heard the faint snickering.
"Nothing to worry your pretty little head about, Harry," Draco said. He regarded the brunette with a meditative gaze before reaching up and ruffling Harry's hair affectionately.
"You really do look like a lost little puppy, you know that?"
Harry had wrongly assumed that he would run into someone that he actually knew.
Harry shifted uneasily from foot to foot, swirling the glass of champagne absently in his hand. He took a sip and regarded the scene in front of him with increasing dismay. Draco, a model of self-assurance, was occupied with a few other guests, conducting the conversation with decisive gestures. The blond threw his head back and laughed affably. Draco looked right at home, but Harry stuck out like a sore thumb.
And not once did Draco throw a look in Harry's direction.
A short distance away, the brunette saw Millicent and her husband engaged in a similar situation, handling the conversation with admirable social dexterity. The crowd was composed of captains of industry that Harry saw frequently on the media. They managed different aspects of the economy and consisted of both males and females, ranging from the young to old.
But they shared one thing in common: they were all filthy rich.
Harry sighed and retreated further into the shadows, threading a hand through his hair. He heard the soft ebb and rise of lounge music playing, the gentle clink of porcelain teacups against saucers. The enormous chandelier flung jewels of light on the crowd, augmented by the tiny tea-scented candles flickering delicately in their holders. An impressive tower of impeccably-wrapped wedding gifts graced one corner of the huge ballroom. Vases and vases of stylish, just-bloomed pale pink roses were perched on little covered tables. And right at the very heart of the room was a mind-blowing six-tiered wedding cake that teetered above the guests.
It was elegance and opulence at its very best.
The waiters upheld the standards of the setting by working the room tirelessly, equipped with tempting appetizers such as little bowls of caviar and an endless supply of champagne. Their smiles were painted on their faces, their polite murmurs executed with flawless courtesy. Harry watched their sparkling black shoes perform precise turns, sidestepping other pairs of feet with infallible finesse.
There seemed to be a hubbub arising in the crowd, and Harry turned his head curiously.
Pansy Zabini descended the winding staircase regally, with Blaise holding her hand elegantly. Pansy's floor length skirt, pinched at the waist to flaunt her hourglass waistline, matched Blaise's attire perfectly. Pansy was practically doused with jewelry and heirlooms consisting of a heavy necklace of red bloodstones and jangling bracelets of citrines and turquoise crystals. Harry spied their wedding rings which were priceless pieces of elliptical petals of cut sapphires.
All of the guests clapped furiously when they saw the newly-weds, and the couple bowed their heads gracefully towards the crowd. Blaise's friends roared and cheered at him. Blaise grinned at Pansy and kissed her gently on the cheek before making his way over to them.
And it seemed as though Pansy was making a dogged beeline for Harry.
"Um… Congratulations on your wedding. You look fabulous," Harry said rather shrilly when the ex-Slytherin cornered him, her hands planted firmly on his shoulders. Harry tried not to squirm when her palms breezed across his arms and squeezed his muscles experimentally.
"I see the Ellis twins fitted you very well," Pansy remarked when Harry managed to extricate himself from her grasp. Pansy's lips twitched, as though she was trying not to smile when Harry shifted away, determined to put a respectable distance between the both of them.
"Did you enjoy the wedding ceremony in the afternoon?" Pansy asked, casually sweeping wisps of fringe from her forehead.
"Yeah, it was nice," Harry replied prudently, keeping a vigilant eye on Pansy. He had never said more than three sentences to Pansy when they were at school, so it was a bit unnerving to be exchanging words with her.
"Nice? I hope that it's more than nice, considering the amount of money that we spent," Pansy said sharply, a smirk bordering on a mild sneer residing on her lips. And then she named a figure of Galleons that made Harry's jaw drop.
"What's money if not to indulge, Potter?" Pansy said lightly. Her eyes narrowed when Harry didn't seem to budge from his corner. Without preamble, she hooked her arm fiercely through Harry's, dragging him away into the crowd.
"What are you doing?! Hey, wait!" Harry squeaked, barely keeping his champagne glass steady.
"Why, we're socializing, of course! I've been keeping my eye on you for a while, and I do hope that you don't mean to spend the whole night hiding. I would be a terrible hostess if any one of my guests isn't enjoying themselves," Pansy chirped, her mouth set in a distinctive, imperious line.
"What about your friends?! Why would you want to waste your time with me?!" Harry protested, twisting his arm free.
"Oh, they can live without my affections once in a while. And besides, it would be… fascinating to know what Draco sees in you," Pansy said, her eyes glistening with intent. Waste your time with me. What an… interesting choice of words, Pansy thought and filed it away in her mind for future reference.
Harry watched on in amazement as Pansy was bombarded with congratulations and hugs from her friends, and she cooed back in a high, mellifluous trill, waving a hand at them like she was a queen. And the most incredible thing of all was that she was carrying out a whispered, hurried monologue with Harry simultaneously. Harry's head was whirling from side to side as he tried desperately to take in the faces and names that were described by Pansy's heated gesticulations.
"Look at that woman, Potter, she's the mistress of Lieutenant Barker over there- oh darling Lucy, how have you been doing?! Thank you for coming, please do help yourself to the nibbles- that one, Potter, yes, a botched Enlargement spell on her boobs, now one of them is bigger than the other, don't stare, Potter- Oh my, my, Sylvia dear, is that dashing young man your son Andrew, Merlin, how he's grown- and that's the steel magnate Cash Cooper, married to supermodel Cerise over there, get a good look at him, Potter, because he's going to appear in the papers next week-"
"I really don't understand where you're going with this, why are you telling me all of this?" Harry said breathlessly when they had barreled through the ballroom. Pansy only stared at Harry, before erupting into raucous laughter.
"Sweet Salazar, you really don't have an inkling what's going on, do you? You think that after the two months you and Draco can simply swan off to the sunset? Maybe in the social position of your life, yes, it is possible, but for us, those in the… higher echelons of society, people might not be able to welcome you with open arms. The gap in status between you and Draco is so wide it's not even funny. If it's just a simple fling, a one-off-"
"It's not a fling-"
"Cool down. It seems to be getting serious, that's why I'm telling you this. Keep in mind, Potter, that if your relationship with Draco progresses even further, it is mandatory for you to have a good knowledge of who's who in these circles," Pansy said, her words drizzling from her mouth in a lazy, superior drawl.
"Are you done?" Harry said, struggling to keep his temper in check.
"As a matter of fact, no. This wedding must be a culture shock for you, isn't it, Potter? Lavish, extravagant, together with guests an eclectic mixture of the elite and aristocracy. Do you think they really care about the wedding itself? They're here for the gossip, for the networking, for their faces to be splashed across the tabloids tomorrow morning. Do you hear any of our so-called friends discussing about the lifetime of domestic bliss that Blaise and I will share? Didn't think so.
"It has to be a far cry from Granger and Weasley's wedding. I bet it was probably held in that poky little house of theirs, complete with cheap food, bad dancing and the conversation being all about the married couple, wasn't it?" Pansy finished, her mouth puckering as though she had caught a whiff of something distasteful.
"It's one thing for you to insult me, but to make fun of my friends?" Harry hissed coldly, his green eyes burning icicles of restrained fury. He was sick of this belittling, this fake little charade and this complete disregard of manners. "I don't care if you think that I'm not a good match for Draco. This matter is none of your concern."
"Your friends don't think Draco suits you too, do they?" Pansy replied softly, her eyes serious. Harry hesitated and recalled the shocked faces of Seamus and Dean when he had introduced the blond.
"I think you've got me wrong. I don't harbor any ill intentions towards you, Potter. I have a feeling that you make Draco happy, and for that, I'm glad. This isn't some sort of threat. Treat this as a… lesson, a heads-up to what you'll be experiencing should you choose to date Draco properly," Pansy said quietly, the harsh expression on her face dissolving. "Don't forget this conversation, Potter. It would do you good to keep it in mind."
Pansy gave a little shake of her head and perked up considerably, much to Harry's confusion.
"Come on, darling! What's with the sour face! It's my wedding, for heaven's sake! Have you seen the balcony yet? No? Well, let's go!"
The waiter laid the three-tiered tray of seafood on the table, filled up their glasses, bowed his head formally and withdrew. Crab claws lolled on a bed of ice, along with treasures like crayfish, scallops and raw oysters. On the higher tier, raw fish basked, garnished with petals of parsley and carved lemon halves.
Harry swallowed, his fists clenching on the ruthlessly starched tablecloth. His fingers hovered uselessly over the cutlery that sparkled in the light, but he simply couldn't take his eyes off the raw food. His throat felt scratchy and dry, and he wanted to take a sip of water. Harry stared dubiously at the four glasses twinkling cheekily up at him, purportedly one for red wine, one for white wine, one for water, and one for champagne, and decided that he was better off thirsty.
He was flanked by Pansy and Draco. Pansy clapped her hands happily and beamed, announcing that sashimi was her favorite. Draco was talking to his neighbor in glib tones, and Harry felt pure, desolate abandon.
Draco sneaked a sidelong glance to Harry and felt a familiar sliver of lust building up in him as he marveled at how handsome his date was. He snaked his hand down to Harry's thigh, took hold of his hand and slipped his own fingers between Harry's fingers. Draco frowned when he noticed how clammy Harry's palm was and how uncomfortable the brunette looked. He was just about to ask him what was wrong, but the man beside him decided to strike up conversation again, and Draco let go of Harry's hand, turning his body away from Harry.
How can people eat this, Harry wondered as everyone helped themselves to the raw food with gusto. In his nervousness, he knocked his fork to the floor. Acting on ingrained behavior, Harry immediately ducked down to the floor and picked it up. When he resurfaced, the whole table was staring at him, along with the waiter who had miraculously appeared with a clean fork in hand.
His intestines tangled up into muddled knots of anxiety and unease, Harry placed the fork on the table and looked away, his face burning with acute embarrassment.
His tie was choking him to death.
"Excuse me," he blundered before rising from the table awkwardly and stumbling away to the bathrooms.
Harry tore his tie and jacket off, loosened his collar, undid the top two buttons of his shirt and took off his glasses. He rolled up his sleeves and splashed water on his face, breathing heavily as he stared at his bedraggled reflection in the mirror. It was painfully obvious that he was out of his depth. The brunette rubbed his face, pressing the heels of his palms deeply on his closed eyes. What was he doing here? He should be with Ron right now, wrapping up the Ministry case or resting at home, instead of participating in this farce of superficiality-
With each sieve of paperwork and each visit paid to dodgy, run-down neighborhoods, Harry and Ron had painstakingly unfurled the labyrinth of clues that taunted them. They had finally pinpointed the location of the highly dangerous Dark artifact, and they were slated to retrieve it on Tuesday. Of course, they didn't expect it to go without a fight, and the extra time spent on improving their curses and wards had taken a toll on both men.
Harry sighed, noticing how drawn his face was and the shadows stirring under his eyes. He knew he was mired at the very bottom of the pecking order, with everyone else dismissing him because he was a lowly Unspeakable. But it wasn't that bad. Millicent and the Ellis twins were rather friendly to him. Although Pansy had made a prickly first impression, she really was a load of laughs, and there wasn't a boring moment with her around.
He reached for a warm towel that lined the shelves in the bathroom and dried his face with it. He suddenly heard the authoritative click-clack of heels and the soft swing of the door opening-
-and came face to face with The Blond. Harry knew him by face and had a gut feeling that this was the legendary Pietro Labelle whose blue eyes had been following Draco around that evening. Harry tried to appear unfazed and fiddled with his tie, his eyes all the while surreptitiously glancing at Pietro.
His black shoes came with a glossy shine and it was no surprise that his clothes were expensive and designer. Pietro rotated his neck from side to side and extended his arms to adjust his sleeves. Harry noted the polished and monogrammed cufflinks, along with the impeccably-styled blond hair.
Pietro tilted his head and met Harry's gaze head-on. Harry was taken aback by the intensity of his stare and stood his ground, blue and green clashing competitively. A complacent smirk spread like poison on Pietro's face as he absorbed Harry's disheveled state, his eyes lingering on his mop of unruly black hair. Pietro shot Harry a smarmy smile and turned sharply on his heel, exiting the bathroom without a single word.
His fingers tightening on the edges of the sink, Harry scowled. He felt that he had been silently graded on his appearance, and compared to Pietro; he knew that he looked like a drowned rat. You want to play? I'll play with you. Still bristling with anger, Harry quickly shrugged on his jacket, hitched his tie up higher than it was actually necessary and stalked out of the room.
He had a feeling that this little tug-of-war with Pietro Labelle had only just begun.
"I didn't know you could dance," Draco quipped as he reached up for Harry's proffered hand.
"Not dance, exactly, more like twirl on the spot," Harry grinned sheepishly and steered both of them to the side of the dance floor, holding Draco close. "God, we finally have some time together," the brunette breathed, combing his fingers through Draco's hair and dropping a kiss on his temple. The blond smiled dreamily and rested his head lightly on Harry's chest, but he suddenly frowned when he felt-
"Draco darling, where have you been?! I hardly spoke two words to you the whole evening! Oh, don't worry, Potter, I'll return Draco to you safe and sound. Go and sit with Blaise, won't you?"
And then poor Draco was swept away in a whirlwind of glittery, Pansy-like material.
Harry stared at his arms, which were positioned as though he was still holding onto Draco. Rolling his eyes heavenwards, Harry gave a huff of irritation and made his way towards Blaise, who had been surveying the scene with interest.
"Sorry about that. My wife's a piece of work sometimes," Blaise chuckled. Harry smiled in reply, hooked a chair out from underneath the table and plopped down. Blaise was one of those people that had actually shown genuine interest in Harry's profession, since becoming an Auror or Unspeakable had been one of Blaise's career pursuits. But his family had needed him to helm the vineyards back in Italy, so he had no other choice but to return.
"Blaise, what can you tell me about Pietro Labelle?" Harry ventured, carefully studying the other man's reaction. Upon hearing the question, Blaise looked away and he took a long swig of wine, buying time while he thought of how much to tell Harry.
"I guess I should have expected this," Blaise started and took a deep breath, his eyes downcast while a finger traced circles on the tablecloth. "Pietro Labelle hails from France, but he did his studies at Durmstrang. That's why he's unfamiliar to you. The Malfoys and the Labelles go a long way back, especially since the Labelles were also involved with Voldemort. Pietro was no stranger to the Dark Arts, due to his family background and having schooled at Durmstrang. But at the time, Draco and Pietro were only acquaintances since there was an age gap of eight years.
"After the war, all of us Slytherins were split up. All of those who were alive, that is," Blaise's voice fell when he remembered Crabbe. "Draco, along with his parents, fled to France and sought out the Labelles for shelter. They provided for them, but it wasn't long before Draco's parents passed away. Pietro's own parents weren't better off either, having sustained severe injuries during the War, on top with the worry of the law piled on them.
"They died too, but not before Pietro's father made Pietro promise to take care of Draco like he was his own brother. And he did, taking Draco under his wing and teaching him all he knew about the hotel industry. Pietro was no beginner to that line of work, since his family ran a chain of hotels for a living. The both of them steadily clawed their way up back to prestige and power, with Pietro leading Draco. And well, I guess their relationship developed further, and they dated for five years, before Draco broke it off."
"Why? And if they're not together anymore, why is he still hanging around Draco?" Harry asked, nibbling on his lower lip as he digested this deluge of information.
"I cannot tell you why they broke up. The responsibility should fall on Draco to provide you the information about their romantic relationship. Regardless of what happened between them, it is a fact that both of them are still working together, so it's inevitable that Draco has to tread carefully around Pietro. And so, they share a tenuous working relationship currently. You cannot forget that Draco was Pietro's protégé, and as easily as Pietro made him, he can break him. You took Draco away from Pietro, Harry," Blaise went on, his eyes flittering to Pansy and Draco on the dance floor.
"But Draco was already single when I met him again-"
"It doesn't matter to Pietro. I think he had always thought that Draco would return to him eventually. You see, Harry, there are subliminal messages, lines that cannot be crossed no matter what, and when you, a virtual unknown, turned up as Draco's date tonight, it meant that you were encroaching in on Pietro's… territory in public. And by doing that, you have issued a personal challenge to him."
"Draco didn't tell me anything about this challenge thing. He should have told me about this," Harry babbled, letting out a rather hysterical laugh.
"Draco doesn't bring up the topic of Pietro unless it's absolutely necessary. But I think that Draco really wants you to be here tonight, so…" Blaise trailed off, shrugging his shoulders and finishing his wine before continuing. "Draco's ex isn't a man to be trifled with. In our circles, Harry, Pietro Labelle is not known for his kindness," Blaise concluded, placing his wine glass down on the table with an air of finality.
Harry looked away from Blaise's penetrating gaze into the mingling crowd. There were heirs and self-made billionaires, where millions were mere change to them. They were cultured and coiffed, moguls of wealth and dominance. Their companions were toned and taloned, doyennes of elegance and perfection.
But to Harry, they were nothing but nameless strangers, people that did not belong to his world.
**
Meanwhile, Pansy was laughing gaily with Draco as they did a pretty little pirouette on the dance floor.
"You should have seen Potter's face when I dragged you away," she giggled and did another spin, the tail of her white dress rippling like a cloud behind her. "So, how are things with you two?" Pansy asked, a playful smile flirting on her lips.
"I-"Draco started, but stopped abruptly. Harry's presence was a gem in his week, breaking the daily humdrum of proposals and meetings. He didn't want to tell Pansy too much currently, yet he had to extinguish the sparks of her nosiness. "Harry… well, he's a complete sweetheart," Draco supplied economically. "And that's all you need to know for now," he said sternly.
But before Pansy could retort, a familiar figure loomed behind her, and Draco's jaw inadvertently tightened.
"I must say, Pansy, you're looking wonderful tonight," Pietro praised, bending down to kiss the back of her hand. "But may I have this dance with Draco?" With that, he flashed a predatory smile at the blond, keeping the veil of charm up on his face.
"You look dashing yourself, Pietro. Of course, please do," Pansy tittered, but her smile felt glued on. She melted away into the throng, waited for a while before rushing towards Harry and Blaise. Harry immediately stood up, his eyes slitted into formidable gashes. Every cell in him was on red alert as he stomped towards the two blonds. His lips were plastered over his teeth, but it felt nothing like a smile. He tapped Pietro's shoulder from the back and without even waiting for a reaction, Harry moved directly to Draco and wrapped a possessive arm staking my claim- around his waist.
"I do believe that Draco is my date for the evening. But I don't recall meeting you properly. I'm Harry Potter," Harry introduced and stuck his hand out, smirking a bit when Pietro looked slightly thrown. Harry felt Draco tense beside him.
"I'm Pietro Labelle. It is my pleasure to meet you," Pietro said, a loaded smile poised on his lips. He shook Harry's hand, almost crushing it with his force. Without even flinching, Harry responded with equal pressure, meeting Pietro's wintry gaze plainly, and it was then that he realized that Pietro was roughly the same height as him.
Both men sized each other up with combative eyes, and it dawned gradually on Pietro that Harry might just be an adversary he knows who I am, but yet- to be reckoned with.
"I won't disturb the both of you any longer. See you on Wednesday for the meeting, Draco," Pietro bit out, the back of his teeth grinding behind a quick flash of insincere beam. Harry's grin instantaneously withered and he resisted the infantile urge to stick his tongue out at Pietro's back.
"Sorry about that," Draco said, giving Harry an embarrassed half-smile.
"I'm not letting go of you tonight," Harry declared solemnly, his arms enveloping the blond guardedly.
"I don't mind," Draco sighed whimsically, amazed at how Harry's body was like liquid poured into his suit. "You should wear formal more often," he commented, his pale fingers stroking the brunette's tie coyly.
"Only for tonight, and only for you," Harry murmured back and traced the wavy outline of the candlelight dancing across Draco's cheek. A gentle breeze stirred, magnifying the fragrance of the flowers near them, and along with Draco's own unique scent, it was simply a concoction the smell of you in every single dream- of magical mist. Gazing deeply into November-colored eyes, Harry leaned in and kissed Draco's smile briefly as they swayed slowly to the music in each other's arms. I'm falling for you, Harry, Draco thought shyly, a strawberry-pink blush rising on his cheeks.
And then Draco realized that he had said that out loud.
"I mean, I didn't just say that-" the blond gabbled, flustered. Harry, on the other hand, was grinning like a loony. But Draco wasn't convinced, averting why is he not saying anything, what if he doesn't feel the same- his insecure eyes from Harry. An uncomfortable, icy sensation snaked and coiled its way from his heart to his limbs. A lock from Draco's hair came free, and Harry pushed it back, letting his fingers fall, his fingertips lingering on the beating pulse at the side of Draco's neck. To Harry, the memories of this evening were restricted to the way Draco moved and looked, nothing else.
"Do you remember the Ministry function where I saw you again after we graduated from Hogwarts? I had already fallen for you by then," Harry whispered lovingly, his hands slipping down to encircle Draco's waist. A flash of heat raced through Draco and Harry could see the hesitancy and the walls in Draco's eyes unraveling, untangling like a dress coming undone.
"R-Really? H-Haha, you should have told me earlier," Draco gulped and bumbled lamely, burying his head timidly oh my God, Draco, shut up, shut up, stop babbling- in Harry's chest and tightening his hold on Harry's shoulders.
"That's why I'm going to show it to you tonight," Harry breathed provocatively, and the mood was gradually changing from romantic and dreamy to domineering and sexual. Harry grinned, a deadly gleam glimmering in his eyes.
"T-Tonight? There's nothing going on tonight, oh-" Draco squeaked when Harry's thigh slipped in sneakily between Draco's legs.
"Nothing going on? I beg to differ. You're already hard, Draco," Harry whispered throatily. The ex-Gryffindor was emitting pheromones like the headiest cologne, and there was no mistaking the steaming, hot testosterone rising from both men. Harry curved his fingers around Draco's waist and pulled him even closer, that thigh of his rubbing torturously against the blond's crotch. Tremors of heat yes, I'll beg, I'll beg in bed for you, just don't stop- shuddered from Draco, and he let out a tiny rousing moan.
"In fact, you don't know how much I want to slam you against that wall over there and have my way with you right now. But I'll wait, Draco. I reckon the single bed in our room will fit the both of us, especially if I'm on top. I'll make a mess of you all night long," Harry murmured seductively with half-lidded eyes, his fingers toying with Draco's belt buckle.
Harry had expressed chagrin when there were two single beds in their hotel room instead of the double bed that he had been expecting. Draco had only smiled innocently you only specified a hotel room, nothing about the beds- at Harry.
"W-Who says that you can top tonight? I mean, who says that we'll be sharing the bed in the first place?!" Draco squawked, but Harry only gave him a sly, artful smile. Harry's voice was an aphrodisiac all by itself, and Draco was practically sweating with sexual anticipation. He took in Harry's shadowed eyes, the deliciously pink tongue cruising across his lips, and the hint of strong collarbone half-concealed by Harry's sexily loosened tie.
There was no fucking way that Draco could resist Harry.
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry spotted Pietro glimpsing them discreetly from a corner. The blond's gaze was a colorless cover of masked emotions, but Harry didn't miss the way Pietro downed his champagne in one gulp. His narrowed green eyes sparkling with a triumphal glitter, Harry locked his glare with Pietro's, green and blue pinioning each other mercilessly. Without breaking the connection, Harry dipped his head and bit Draco lightly on the neck.
You're mine, and no one else will dare to think otherwise.
No one bothered to tell Draco how bloody horny Harry could be when he was drunk.
It was bad enough when the man was sober, for Salazar's sake, Draco fumed as he stood naked and alone in the bath. Squirting shampoo on his palms, the blond scrubbed his hair thoroughly, enjoying the sensation of warm water flowing down his body in rivulets.
Since it had been too early for them to retire to their room that night, Blaise, Pansy, Draco and Harry had milled around the ballroom, with Harry sneaking furtive gropes on Draco's bum and thighs. But Blaise had challenged Harry to a drinking game, much to Draco's alarm he's a wine connoisseur, Harry, he's used to alcohol!-. But Harry had brushed off Draco's concerns and accepted the dare, and the Firewhiskey had flowed like a waterfall. Pansy and Draco had watched with growing apprehension as their respective dates downed glass after glass, until they were equally sloshed. When they were done, Harry and Blaise had clapped each other on the back and dissolved into bouts of braying laughter, as though the whole ordeal was some sort of testament to their manliness.
"Blaise's so drunk, Pansy, how are you two going to shag tonight?!"
"Oh, that's nothing, Draco darling. I've got some special potion in the suite that'll wake him up, or more importantly, the bits that need to be up. But it doesn't seem as though Potter's got any problem with that, hmmm?"
And then Draco had followed Pansy's gaze to the bulge in Harry's pants and the lewd, glazed over look in Harry's eyes.
"You should be making a move before he starts ripping your clothes off in public," Pansy had advised cheekily, and Draco spent an excruciating fifteen minutes lugging Harry's heavy arse up to their room, which was definitely not helped by Harry stopping every few minutes to push Draco up against the wall and fondle his bits. Even while they were stumbling, Harry had taken to twining his body around Draco's like a vine and taking every chance to rub himself rapturously over Draco.
Merlin, Draco practically had to beat the man off with a stick.
When they had finally reached their destination, Harry slammed his arms on the door, pressed his front against Draco's back and rolled his hips urgently against the blond's bum while Draco had been unlocking the door.
"Stop it, Harry-"
"Oh no, I'm not Harry t'night, Draco baby. Call me… *hiccup* Humping Harry."
The second they staggered in the room, Draco had swiftly fled to the bathroom and locked the door, ignoring Harry's hollers of dismay at having his object of lust escaping. But Harry gradually quietened down, and part of Draco hoped that the brunette was asleep.
Draco exhaled, dried himself off, pulled on his clothes and cocked his ears for any evidence of noise. His instincts sharpened, Draco softly unlocked the door and crept outside, his bare feet making no noise on the carpeted floor. The first thing he noticed was the trail of abandoned clothes that snaked their way on the floor, finally leading to Draco's bed-
Harry was leaning on his side, a hand supporting his head as he lounged on the bed like a god. The brunette was naked, except for a pair of briefs that looked like it was going to fall off any moment. He spread his thighs slightly and licked his lips slowly, his mouth parting into a lustful smile.
It was impossible not to notice Harry's erection.
Draco rolled his bottom lip between his teeth and let his breath out in a hiss. His eyes were as round as full moons as he let his gaze slide over Harry's physique like oil over water. Draco's body was answering in lust; his stomach muscles were tautening with ardor, and he dimly acknowledged that he was painfully hard. The mounting sexual tension that had been hovering between them for the past month was being stretched to insane proportions, culminating in this single evening. There was a faint whooshing sound ringing vaguely at the back of Draco's head.
Oh well, that was probably his brains flying out of his skull.
"Hello Draco," Harry purred, his silky voice like a caressing hand.
A long, sexy silence ensued, but Draco didn't make any move towards Harry. Instead, he plopped down on the other bed, burying his face in his hands. It was obvious that Harry was drunk, wasn't this equivalent to taking advantage of him?
Sadly, that choice was not his to make.
Draco gasped when Harry scrambled out of his bed, crossed the distance between them easily, placed a firm hand on Draco's chest and pushed him down. The blond's head was dangling helplessly from one side of the bed, while his legs were hanging from the other side. The blond was pinned underneath a kneeling Harry, the brunette's knees positioned on either side of Draco's hips.
"Don't be shy," Harry murmured, his eyes bright as he leered lecherously at Draco. The champagne bubbles were flitting through Harry's veins, the alcohol exploding in his bloodbonesmuscles, everyfuckingwhere, his body roaring with sex and excitement, he could barely hold it in-
"I'm not shy-" Draco shrieked, his voice a combination of hoarse and shrill that escalated in surprise when Harry took hold of Draco's hand and dragged his tongue along the length of his middle finger. Draco lifted his head up, trying to see what Harry was doing exactly. The brunette grinned and went down on all fours, his olive-hued arms like a pair of pillars that restrained Draco's movement.
"You don't need to know what I'm doing. Just close your eyes, moan, and open your legs for me, hmmm?"
Blood was burning in Draco's cheeks, snakes of fire undulating and twisting in his belly. Draco's breath caught in his throat when he felt Harry's fingers unbuttoning and opening his shirt, felt the tip of Harry's tongue travelling from his fingers, to his palm, down the delta of veins on his wrist, up his arm and shoulder, his chest, oh fuck-
"Your body's so sensitive after a shower, Draco," Harry crooned in delight, his words slurred. "Let's do it in the bathroom later, I bet the echoes'll be fantastic. I'll fuck you in every room, on the floor, up against the wall, the huge window in the hall, your palms pressed against the glass while I move behind you. I'm not choosy, I'll fuck you anywhere you want. Tell me, Draco, tell me how you like it. Do you like it with the lights on or off? I'll do every damn thing to please you. On all fours, on your back, you sitting on my cock. We'll do it all tonight. You'll like that, won't you?"
Harry's words were conjuring up indecent images in his brain, and Draco groaned, his arm flung out and bunching a handful of bedsheets in his hand. The brunette kept his ministrations above Draco's waist, but it was more than enough for Draco. Harry's thumbs were stroking Draco's nipples, his tongue dipping and twisting like a cobra, meandering its way steadily down from Draco's collarbones to his abdomen.
"Why are you wearing so many clothes? No matter, they'll be gone soon," Harry said huskily, his tongue tripping clumsily over his words. Harry smiled and bit a strip of flesh on Draco's waist, causing Draco to squirm. "I think of you whenever I touch myself. I think of your body, every single inch-" And then Harry continued in explicit detail what exactly he thought of Draco, fucking the blond with his words while his hands tirelessly explored every snippet of Draco's pale flesh, slithering his fingers across heated skin, pushing a wrist under Draco's body to tease the length of his spine-
Sensation ripped through Draco and he writhed hotly beneath Harry, arching his back up from the bed. His toes were held stiff, the tendons in his neck sticking out like cords.
"You probably think I'm all talk and no cock, huh," Harry whispered, his eyes half-lidded coyly. With that, Harry shifted his arms slightly and lowered his body fully. Draco snapped his eyes open and immediately grabbed onto Harry's shoulders when Harry rolled his hips on top of Draco's. The blond cried out loud when he felt Harry's cock rubbing urgently along his own length. Harry let out a filthy growl and increased his movements with an almost animalistic intensity, his grinding body braced by his arms. The tempo of his hips matched Draco's rapid breathing, and Harry smiled lazily, his bloodthirsty, greedy eyes centering on the pale expanse of Draco's gulping throat.
He leant down and kissed Draco sloppily, his tongue going everywhere, his teeth sinking possessively into Draco's lower lip. Draco recoiled; the overpowering stench of alcohol on the other man's breath was turning him off. Grey, smoky irises narrowed when the rough calluses of Harry's thumbs pressed hard on Draco's nipples, tweaking them uncomfortably.
"Stop, Harry, you're hurting me-"
"Stop? If you really want me to stop, then why are your legs wide open for me? Why are you thrusting your hips up at me? Your mouth says no, but your body says yes. I'm taking you tonight, and I don't give a fuck whether you want it or not," Harry hissed savagely, his fingernails digging painfully into Draco's ribs, leaving crescent indents on his skin. The brunette's hips were continuing their ceaseless, tiring assault, and Harry kissed Draco again, swallowing the blond's indignant protests.
I don't give a fuck whether you want it or not-
As though he had been plunged in cold water, a provoked he's drunk, he doesn't know what he's doing, I don't want my first time with him to be like this, he'll forget all of this tomorrow morning- Draco scowled. Summoning vestiges of self-control, he twisted his head away, breaking the kiss. A tussle of limbs ensued as Draco snapped, wriggled and ended up thwacking Harry's head with his elbow. With little spots of color flaming in his cheeks, he finally freed himself from Harry's grasp. The heat in his torso was fading and fizzling away at the edges. The brunette snarled wildly and was about to launch himself at Draco, but the blond grabbed a shoe and lobbed it at Harry, hitting him squarely on the forehead.
"Move any closer, Potter, and you'll spend the night outside and I won't care if you freeze your balls off!" Draco threatened, reaching for another shoe.
"Okay okay! Stop it with the shoes!" Harry caved in, nursing his throbbing forehead. The ex-Gryffindor slumped down on the floor like a little boy who had his candy snatched away from him. His back was hunched, his legs were flung out carelessly and a petulant scowl sullied his face.
"I just wanna fuck you, Draco, what's so bad about that? Everyone has sex in hotel rooms! I just wanna have lotsa lotsa sex with you until it's coming out of your ears!" Harry complained, his eyes roaming up and down Draco's arse appreciatively. "Or more specifically, until it's coming out of your-"
Draco raised his shoe.
Harry whimpered.
"You were mauling me, Potter! Go and bathe and get the stupid smell of alcohol off you!" the blond commanded angrily.
"Carry me there," Harry sniffled, his lips turned downwards in a pout. His patience fraying at the edges, Draco howled with exasperation, grabbed Harry's arm roughly and dragged him up.
"Walk there yourself!" Draco huffed, steering Harry in the direction of the bathroom. The brunette let out a plaintive whine and wobbled ahead, and in the process tripped over his discarded pants, stubbed his toe on the leg of a chair and banged his wrist on the wall.
He turned back and fixed Draco with a stubborn look.
"No humping?"
"No!"
"Not even a teeny weeny kiss?"
Outraged, Draco gave Harry's bum a swift, hard kick.
"Ow, that hurt!"
"Good!"
"I really want you, Draco-"
"You're drunk!"
"Yes, I'm drunk. But you're gorgeous. And tomorrow I'll be sober but you'll still be gorgeous," Harry blurted out suddenly, and Draco was taken aback by the unintentionally sweet statement. He blinked, surprised by the raw emotionality in Harry's eyes.
And then, Harry of course had to go and spoil the mood.
"Bathe with me, I can't scrub my back without help, pretty, pretty please?"
"Scrub your own damn back!" Draco bawled, snapping back to business. With that, the blond shoved Harry unceremoniously in the bathroom, threw a towel at him and placed a set of Hangover Potion and Sleeping Draught that was available in every hotel room beside the sink. "Drink the potions and sleep when you're done," Draco said, his tone softening. The ex-Slytherin exhaled heavily and closed the door behind him. A few seconds passed before he heard Harry's muffled voice call out hopefully from the shower.
"Can I sleep with you tonight?!"
"… No!"
Draco sank into an armchair, the long-suffering expression on his face easing. He reached for a book and flipped it open, but his mind wasn't concentrating. Harry's touch was still circulating in his body like a drug. His eyes registered the crumpled sheets on the bed, and he could feel himself getting hard again. His libido was blaming him; if Draco hadn't voiced any opposition, he would probably be getting the best sex of his life tonight. But Draco knew that he had done the right thing. He didn't want this to be a mere quick fuck, something that Harry would forget when he jolted out of his inebriated state tomorrow morning.
tomorrow I'll be sober-
but you'll still be gorgeous-
Draco couldn't help but smile fondly at this, remembering how Harry had grinned at him and the affection sparkling in his eyes. However, Draco was shocked rudely out of his memory when he heard a screeching sound. Shutting his book with a clap, a frowning Draco stood up and walked to the balcony, wondering if a fight was going on in the roads. No, it seemed to be coming from… the bathroom?!
Oh Merlin, Harry was singing. His eyes wide, Draco padded to the bathroom, placed an ear to the door and listened.
"You're here in my heart, and my heart will," Harry warbled tonelessly before sucking in a deep breath and hitting the high notes by shrieking, "GO ON AND ONNNNNNNNNNNNN!!"
Draco gasped and shrank back from the door.
"I'm singing it for you, Draco love! Can you hear me?!"
Sweet Salazar, everyone from across the street could bloody well hear him!
Draco sat on the floor and hugged his legs, feeling his cheeks heating up in a blush as Harry shouted out the mushiest and corniest lyrics that anyone could ever imagine, throwing in Draco's name frequently. Hooking a coil of blond hair behind his ear demurely, Draco looked down bashfully, feeling the lower half of his face being engulfed by a smile.
Even though Harry's singing was absolutely abysmal, Draco wondered why he didn't want Harry to stop.
"Draco? Have you ever seen a horror movie? No? Do you want me to tell you about one?"
"Sure. Go ahead."
"Okay. It was filmed only very recently, filmed last night to be exact. It's about a brunette acting in an appalling manner to a very, very sexy blond when they were in a hotel room simply because the brunette was stupidly drunk. It started out with him being a bit aggressive-"
"A bit?! You were humping the living daylights out of me!"
"Yes, the brunette has reflected on his shameful manner and he would like to convey a thousand apologies to the sexy blond. I- I'm really sorry for what I did last night, Draco."
"Hmph. Cheer up, Potter, I never said that I was angry about that."
"But I behaved in a mortifying manner! Wait… you're smiling! You liked it?!"
"Bite your tongue, I never said that! I was just thinking about the singing."
"I was singing when I was in bed with you?!"
"You were singing in the shower, Harry."
"Oh God, on top of mistreating your body I made your ears bleed too. But I think you liked last night, didn't you? I saw you drooling at me this morning when I woke up."
"… I think the apology is sufficient, Potter. It's not necessary to delve into other unrelated matters."
"Maybe there could be a sequel to the movie in the near future, eh? I mean, minus the alcohol and the singing?"
"… No."
"Draco, thank God you're home!"
Draco looked up from the papers, blinking in surprise when a distraught Hermione Granger appeared in his Floo. She tripped her way out and cannoned into Draco's arms, her words punctuated by uncontrollable weeps. "Your wards refused to let me in when you weren't home, I've been trying every half an hour, I didn't want to owl you because you were working-"
Draco raised an eyebrow and patted the witch awkwardly on the back.
"There, there," he said woodenly. Comforting people had never been one of his most outstanding traits. He wondered why Granger was here, of all places. If anything had happened to her, she would have Weasley or Harry-
A chill ran down Draco's spine.
"Something's happened to Harry, isn't it?" the blond said, a tremor in his voice.
Hermione sniffled to a stop and nodded, wiping her nose with a sleeve.
"I don't think Harry told you because of the wedding, but today was the Tuesday that they had scheduled to carry out an important task in their jobs. When I asked Kingsley about it after they were sent to the hospital to see whether I could do anything to help, he refused to say anything. I don't know why, I'm Ron's wife and Harry's best friend, I deserve the right to know-"
"Granger, what happened to them?!" Draco's tone had increased in urgency, and he had to clench his hands in order to stop himself from shaking Hermione in agitation.
Hermione swallowed a sob and gazed up at the ex-Slytherin, her hysterical eyes misting with a colorless hue of tears.
"Something went wrong during the mission today, Draco. Harry and Ron... they're… they're dying."
/tbc
Lyrics of Harry's alleged love song comes from Celine Dion's 'My Heart Will Go On'. Thank you very much for plowing through this chapter! I think the reason why it was so long is because I was very eager to write it out when I was planning Flirt, and also because this chapter covered a lot of things. I really enjoyed writing the whole slew of new characters, both OC and canon, in this.
Oh wait, I think I'm anticipating writing Chapter Eight more…
/wink
Please do review!