The drive to the club was blessedly short. It had been an awkward ride. While Draco had no problem making conversation at school, when they got in the cab, he clammed right up. Harry didn't know what it was about the confined space, but something about it just shut Draco up. Maybe it was the effect of having a third person privy to their conversation, for with the cab driver there, Draco barely said a word other than to give the address of the club.
Upon arrival, Draco paid the man and handed over a hefty tip (Harry's eyes widened when he saw just how much). Draco caught the look and he frowned, brow creasing in a way that was absurdly attractive and made Harry's stomach flip-flop. "What," the blonde asked tersely.
"Nothing. That's just a lot of money."
"So?" It was clear from Draco's tone of voice that he didn't want to talk about this, so Harry wisely said nothing more. Silently, he followed Draco to the door of the club, waiting as the Slytherin knocked. Within moments the door was opened by a middle-aged woman with short dark curls and a care-worn face. She positively lit up when she saw Draco.
"Draco!" She yanked him into her arms, hugging him close. He laughed, embracing her.
"Hey, Magda. How've you been?"
Harry stood dumbfounded as he watched the exchange. This day he had seen a side of Draco he had never seen before. But this? This was something beyond anything he could ever have imagined. This Draco was happy, the smile setting his whole face aglow.
"What are you doing here?" Magda held Draco at arm's length, eyes roving over his face as if she hadn't seen him in a long time and needed to re-commit every detail to memory. "I haven't seen you in ages!"
"I know, I'm sorry. I've missed you." Draco gestured to Harry. "My friend here needs some dance lessons, though. So I figured this would be a good place. Would it be okay if I gave him some one-on-one time before you open?"
Magda's attention turned to Harry for the first time since the door had opened and she took him in, assessing. He gave his best smile, and after a moment, she returned it, pulling him in for a hug of his own. "Of course you can." Releasing him, she smiled at him. "Any friend of Draco's is always welcome here."
"Thank you," Harry managed.
Magda stepped back inside, holding the door open for them. "Come in, boys, out of the cold." They followed her in, shedding their jackets as they went. "I have things to get ready still before we open, but you can have the run of the place until then. Draco, you know where everything is."
He nodded. "Thanks, Magda."
She kissed him on the cheek. "So happy to see you, hun." With that, she vanished from the room and back upstairs.
Harry looked around the club. It was completely empty, utterly silent. The room they were in was rather large, with a long gleaming bar that ran almost straight across one side of the room, a highly polished mirror shining behind it. The mirror had various scrawlings on it, signatures of some kind. A row of lustrous cups and shot glasses were lined up on shelves above the mirror, and Harry could just barely see the tops of various bottles of alcohol sticking up from their safe place behind the bar. The dance floor itself took up over half the room, the only seating available being some stools along the bar.
"Not much seating, is there?" Harry commented. "Just along the bar."
"No, there's more," Draco replied. "Over there...and there." He pointed to corners of the room to tables Harry hadn't noticed.
"Oh yeah." Harry took a good long look at the additional seating places. There were only a few, stuck away at the back of the bar in corners that were already shadowy despite the room being well lit. They looked like dark, evil meeting places, spots Voldemort would have felt at home. The idea of the Dark Lord at a dance hall amused Harry to no end.
"They look like good places for plotting," Harry commented, breaking the silence. "Good spots for planning evil deeds."
"...or doing evil deeds," Draco said, a smile curving across his lips. Harry looked at Draco, puzzled, and the blonde had no qualms about elaborating. "Why do you think they're off to the sides like that?" he asked. "It's only natural to stick the tables there...dark corners...perfect place for doing...dark deeds."
Harry blushed at once. "Only you, Malfoy...only you would think of that."
"Obviously not," Draco said after a moment. "Clearly Magda thought so too, or it wouldn't be set up this way, would it?"
Harry sighed. "Or maybe you're just a pervert, Draco..."
"Lech," Draco interrupted, correcting Harry. "I prefer the term 'lech.'"
"Okay, you're a lech, then," Harry continued, rolling his eyes, "and maybe she intended no such thing."
"Oh, yes she did," Draco said immediately. "I know that for a fact."
"How on earth do you know that?" Harry asked, not quite believing him.
"...because I come here all the time," Draco said after a long moment's pause. This surprised Harry, surprised him so much that he finally did what he had been avoiding doing since the beginning of this little excursion: spinning about and staring at Draco, actually staring, though before he had been unable to even look at the blonde.
This time, it was Draco who avoided looking at Harry, but instead stared off into space, eyes regarding the bar itself in a very unfocused sort of way. Finally, he seemed unable to ignore Harry's gaze any longer; he looked up at last, eyes very reluctantly turning to Harry. "...what?"
"...you really come in here all the time?" Harry asked, finding it hard to believe.
"Yeah...so what?" Draco sounded very defensive. Harry shook his head, shrugging.
"I don't know...it just doesn't seem like..." he shrugged helplessly, as though he didn't want to say what he had just been about to say, and wished he could swallow the words, erase them completely.
"...yes?"
"...doesn't seem like a...a boy of your...your particular...status...would..."
"...like a boy of my particular status would...what?" Draco was annoyed now, obviously angry by his wealth being brought into it. Harry made a helpless gesture with his hands, hating the fact that he had started this conversation in the first place.
"...it just doesn't seem like a boy of your status would spend all his time in some...sleazy bar and dance club," Harry finished at last, very reluctantly. Draco stared, anger plain on his face, and Harry shrank inwardly. Probably not the right words to use, especially when Draco was close with the owner. He was certain now that Draco would go back on his promise to teach Harry to dance and leave the Gryffindor boy alone in this unfamiliar town.
"Let me make a few things plain to you, Potter," Draco spoke up at last, sounding as though he were struggling to remain calm. "First of all, I am not a 'boy'...don't ever call me that again. I'm fifteen years old. Secondly, I can spend all my time wherever I damn well please. Thirdly, status has nothing whatsoever to do with it. The status belongs to my father and he can do whatever he fucking wants with it. If the status is going to interfere with my plans and with what I want to do in life, then fuck it. I don't need it, and I don't need you judging me...got it?"
Harry nodded wordlessly, feeling terrible for having brought it up. "I...I'm sorry," he managed, staring at his shoes. "I didn't mean anything by it, honestly. I just...I was wondering...why here? Why do you come here all the time?"
Draco stared at Harry, his anger ebbing away. "...I don't know," he answered quietly, though he knew perfectly well. "It's just...a good place to go, I guess. Good place to get away from it all. Good place to..." he broke off.
"...good place to what?" Harry asked curiously, nervously.
...to forget, Draco thought silently. Aloud, he merely said "...nothing." There was the briefest of pauses and then "come on," Draco said, shaking himself. "We'd best get started or we'll never get anything done."
Harry swallowed with some difficulty. "...okay," he said, kicking himself mentally when the one word came out sounding shaky. Draco walked away from Harry, across the room and dance floor, over to the bar. He stepped behind it, obviously looking for something.
"Aha..." came the sound of satisfaction. Draco fiddled with something behind the bar and seconds later, music came on. He came out from behind the bar, smiling as he met Harry's confused eyes. "...stereo," he explained.
"Oh...yes...of course," Harry felt stupid for not thinking of that. Draco was still moving, making his way onto the dance floor. Reaching it, he turned about to face Harry, his head cocking to one side in puzzlement as he noticed that Harry hadn't followed him. Deciding he should probably do just that, Harry slowly made his way to the edge of the dance floor, that shining expanse of polished wood that spanned over half the room. It had looked large before...now it looked enormous. The whole thing was like a giant universe of which Draco was the center, the light around which all other things in the universe revolved...only there was nothing else in this universe. Only Harry. And the Gryffindor boy wondered how on earth, out of everything else in this world, he was the one thing pulled into orbit.
"...coming?" Draco asked at last, amusement in his voice as he watched Harry teeter in silent deliberation just past the edge of the dance floor, as though just stepping on the wood was a danger in itself, as if from this place, there was no return.
If I do get pulled into orbit, Harry thought suddenly, wildly, will I be able to get out again? The thought surprised him and he berated himself silently, not understanding just what he was so nervous about. After all...it's just a dance.
"...Potter?"
Harry shook himself out of his reverie. "Yeah," he said at last, voice catching in his throat. He coughed to clear it. "Yeah." But he still didn't move.
After a moment's disbelieving pause, Draco gave the briefest of laughs. "Honestly, Potter. You look like a five year old afraid to go in the pool!"
Harry bristled and fish-mouthed for a moment before striding towards Draco, utterly incensed but coming up with no retort sharper or more creative than "I do not!" He realized suddenly that without noticing, he had stepped onto that floor and he froze a few feet away from Draco, who smiled.
"There," the silvery blonde boy said with some satisfaction. "Now we can get started."
And Harry realized with a jolt of the most severe shock he had ever felt in his life that Draco had been baiting him with mocking comments to lure Harry out on the dance floor. He was unable to hide this realization; he stared at Draco, mouth agape, eyes wide and surprised. Draco chuckled, a strange little laugh nothing like his usual mocking snicker. Harry couldn't help but smile. "Jerk."
"Yup. Now come here."
Shaking his head at Draco's smile, Harry complied, moving to Draco's side. "Now," Draco began, "what I do...or really, what you'll be doing at the ball...is put your hand on her waist. She'll have her left hand on your shoulder and you'll hold her right hand in your left...think you've got that, Potter?"
"...I think so," Harry said slowly, trying to take it all in. At the ball, Parvati had positioned him, so he hadn't really bothered to pay attention. And Draco had just rattled off those directions rather quickly.
Draco smiled...not a mean, mocking smile, but a soft, understanding one, a smile Harry had never seen Draco wear. "...like this," Draco said softly, right arm encircling Harry's waist, guiding Harry closer to him without actually touching the Gryffindor boy. Harry's heart was beating much faster, his pulse racing for no reason he could see. He allowed Draco to move him closer, raising a somewhat shaky hand to place it on Draco's shoulder. It was then that he could hear as well as see the hitch to Draco's breathing and the blonde immediately retreated a step or two, shaking his head.
"No, Potter," he said, his voice sounding different than Harry had ever heard it. He sounded nervous, and though he was trying to hide it, there was an unfamiliar edge to his voice. It sounded almost like...fear? But that was impossible. First of all, Draco was never afraid of anything, and he was definitely never nervous. The Slytherin always exuded confidence. So why did he now sound so frightened at the prospect of one little touch?
Harry looked questioningly at Draco. The blonde took a deep, settling breath and, when he spoke again, he sounded much calmer. "...no touching," Draco said.
Harry's puzzlement grew. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"Just what I said," Draco answered. "No. Touching."
Harry's brow furrowed. "...but...why?"
There was a moment's pause...a long, dangerous pause during which the soft storm clouds in Draco's eyes froze to sheer ice, a dark, painful expression that hurt to look at.
"That is not a question I am going to answer," Draco said at last, voice icy cold. He carefully annunciated each word as though to ensure there was no dispute over them. "I said no touching, and I meant it. There will be no debate, for I will not change my mind." A moment passed during which Draco watched Harry's puzzlement growing and sought to explain further without actually explaining himself at all. "...look at it, if you like, as the price I ask for these lessons."
Harry remained silent. His puzzlement fading, he watched Draco with surprised and concerned eyes. He couldn't quite figure out what was troubling Draco, but something was very obviously wrong. He wanted to ask, but was worried that it would only anger the blonde even more. "...okay," he said slowly, "but..." Before he could really begin questioning, Draco interrupted.
"...unless, of course, you'd rather call it off." Draco's face plainly stated that he had absolutely no qualms about doing such a thing.
"Oh, no no no no," Harry said hastily. "I want to do this...but..." he hesitated, afraid to finish that sentence, afraid that if he tried to do so, Draco really would call it off.
"...but?" Draco prompted, one eyebrow arched, obviously waiting for Harry to say something else sublimely stupid.
"...but how can we do this without touching?" Harry asked, cheeks going pink.
The smallest of smiles danced across Draco's lips. ...maybe not so stupid. Maybe naively charming. "Very easily," Draco answered. He placed his right hand where it had been moments before, inches away from Harry's waist. The Gryffindor could feel a shift in the air next to him and shivered, hating himself for doing so visibly. "And..." he placed Harry's left hand inches from his own shoulder, "...and finally..." Draco raised his free hand and, swallowing nervously, Harry did the same, placing their flat-palmed hands a mere inch apart.
"Now," Draco began. "Listen to the music. Hear that beat?"
Harry squirmed inwardly, unable to hear any beat at all. Before he was forced to humiliate himself by admitting that he couldn't find the tempo, Draco, sensing the truth, spoke up.
"...right there," the blonde said. "1-2-3, 1-2-3, 1-2-3...hear it?"
Harry was almost too surprised at Draco's kindness to even listen for a beat, let alone recognize it, but he shook the feeling off and, with the help of Draco softly repeating the tempo over and over again, it was easy to find. He looked at Draco with wide-eyed surprise and an astonished smile on his face. "Yes!" he said. "I can hear it!"
Draco laughed. "Don't look so shocked, Potter," he said, smile evident even in his voice. "If you can handle Quidditch, you can handle dancing."
"I'm not so sure about that," Harry muttered. He was flushing even more than before, but was still unable to keep that small pleased smile off his face.
"Shush," Draco ordered. And Harry obeyed, because he didn't want to upset Draco again. He didn't know what that had been a moment ago, but he hadn't liked it. Whatever it was that had Draco so spooked, unwilling to touch even for something so small as a dance…..it couldn't be anything good. No, Harry would wager it was something very bad indeed. And McGonagall's words of earlier came back to him. She had called him prejudiced towards Draco. Now, for the first time, he wondered if that were so. He had always assumed Draco was just a spoiled little rich boy. But what if there was more to him? What if Draco was so mean because he was lashing out? What if his home life was as bad as Harry's own? Harry's thoughts immediately went to Lucius Malfoy and he shuddered inwardly. Yes, it didn't take any great leap of the imagination to picture Draco coming from a bad home. Lucius bullied Draco horribly in public; Harry dreaded to think what he did to the boy at home. And his heart sank as he realized that McGonagall was right all along. He was prejudiced.
"Harry?"
The boy snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of Draco's voice. "Yes?"
Those gray eyes were amused. "You still with me?"
"Ah…yes. Sorry." Harry looked into Draco's eyes, trying to see past them, to read the story there, but all emotion was carefully locked down. Draco had some walls up, that was for damn sure.
Well, one thing was for certain. From here on out, Harry would do better.
He gave his word.
~tbc~
