A/n: Ok, so this chapter didn't turn out quite like I expected at all. It still needs work, but the kind of work I want to put into it could easily take another month and I don't want to do that to you.

Thank you Rock and Sarcasm, elvengoddess696, Marge, Lothirielwen, Adele Sparks (I think Baby would look positively edible in a corset), Saavik13, tinkita, dmweasley, Padfootlover719, ura-hd, Purple Raveness, Chibi Alania, FairyPoet, tessa3, moi, LitCandle, xikum, Arigazi, vote-larry4prez, and LillyEmerald (Sebastian is special).

Ok, I'm not entirely sure the name thing came out so clearly, so for the sake of reference:

Angel- Sebastian- Vocals

Baby- James- Guitar

Bates- Gabriel- Drums

Vlad- Michael- bass

Shadow- If I told you, I'd have to kill you- violin/piano

Lucius, Sebastian, and Harry wait for James just outside the backstage entrance. "How long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" Sebastian asks.

"This is my first year."

"Divination?" Sebastian asks. Harry nods. "I thought so. My brother was quite fond of you."

"I was quite fond of him too," Harry responds. Sebastian smiles.

"He did have that effect on people, didn't he?"

"People either loved or hated him," Baby says breathlessly, apparating behind them. Sebastian leaned closer to Harry.

"He took after Uncle in that respect," the young man whispers. Harry stifles a laugh. Lucius sends them a warning glare.

For the first time, Harry finds himself unaffected by it.

"Um, can we start walking? Now perhaps," James suggests, with a nervous glance at the door.

After about a block, Harry chances a glance at James. In the bizarre orange light of the street lamps, Baby looks unreal- a slender shadow of the past, his hair cascading down the back of an austere black frock coat. He looks lost. Actually, he looks lost and molested- his hair mussed, his lips flushed and swollen and his shirt misbuttoned and half-undone.

"Groupies," Sebastian mutters, practically clucking with disapproval. Lucius chuckles.

"That explains why you couldn't just use the door like the rest of us, " he says, flicking his wand almost lazily in Baby's direction. The black shirt rights itself. Lucius adjusts the collar.

Harry can't say that he blames them. James just looks so available. It is easy to imagine that he would fold neatly into Harry's arms without objection as Harry-

"What are you looking at?" James asks, brown eyes lucid for the first time since they left the theater. His mouth curves into a smile that's almost seductive. The lights make garish angles at the corners of his mouth. Harry can only stare. Baby takes the ribbon out of his hair. It spills fetchingly across his face, a veil. He shakes it away. Harry gapes at him. Baby smiles. "Cat got your tongue, Scryer?" he asks. Harry doesn't respond. Baby laughs soundlessly, tying his hair back.

It is Sebastian who rouses Harry from his fascinated stupor. He laughs as he tugs at Harry's hand. His laugh sounds sweet to Harry and dissipates the last of his mental fog.

Harry doesn't remember the first part of dinner. Mostly, his attention is split between Baby, who makes witty comments as sharp as a razor and Sebastian, who has laughter like the ringing of a silver bell behind his kid-covered hands, while Lucius looks from one to the other, smiling indulgently. Harry is introduced to the other members of Azkaban in turn: Bates, a wild-eyed young man with curling brown hair and a contagious smile; Shadow, quiet and graceful; and Vlad, a green-eyed, black-haired young man who was often the object of Baby's subtle and not-so subtle innuendoes.

Vlad's eyes meet his halfway through dinner. His eyes stop Harry's blood. He has seen those eyes before from behind a mask. Vlad had been a Death Eater. He has seen all of them before actually: a general, a mediwizard, a spy, and a death eater. As he thinks about, it dawns on him that he also recognizes them collectively. The Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly and any other magazine that speaks of them calls them the Dandies. They are the young upper crust types – pureblood, exceedingly wealthy, and very attractive. The five of them earned their special distinction for their deliberately ostentatious style of dress. The sudden realization makes him laugh.

Outlaws, veterans, rock stars, Witch Weekly's most eligible bachelors—such were the members of Azkaban.

Life, it seemed, only got stranger the harder one looked.

"Why?" Harry asks suddenly.

"Why what?" Vlad, asks politely.

"Why the band, the costumes, the names?"

"Professor Scryer, do you have any idea how boring it is to be the designated heir of families like ours? All you're good for is sitting on boards or committees of one sort or another. The social committee—"

"The board of trustees—" James volunteers.

"Advisor's Panel—" Gabriel adds.

"Board of Governors," this acknowledgment from Lucius makes Harry grin.

"No one expects you to work. Money like ours grows on its own. We have lawyers and accountants who make sure of it. If you work and you don't do the right sort of work, you're a disgrace. It is all or nothing."

"You served in the war." Directed at Vlad, it is an accusation. Vlad glances at Baby, who shrugs. At least, Harry notes, Vlad has the decency to look slightly ashamed.

"Honestly, the war was the best and worst thing that ever happened to most of us. We were able to do something, to make a difference, but the war is over now and we have nothing."

"Except Azkaban?"

"Azkaban gives us something to do. It's the only thing that doesn't depend on our money or who our fathers were. The costumes and the names protect our family from any imagined scandal."

"And you from their legacy." Vlad raises an eyebrow.

"Indeed." He looks vaguely impressed with Harry. Harry is, in turn, vaguely impressed that Vlad hasn't been tried as a war criminal.

"In my family, we take the cold silence before one guest goes for another's throat as our cue to serve dessert," Shadow says. It is the only thing he has said all meal.

"I think dessert is a fabulous idea," Bates says. "Sebastian, shall we help you clean up?" Sebastian looks at him as if he has lost this mind.

"Gabe, are you delusional? You wouldn't recognize a cleaning charm if it bit you." The smile Bates flashes Sebastian is dazzling and sweet.

"I suppose that's true, but I heard it on a Muggle contraption once and I always wanted to say it." Sebastian shakes his head, laughing to himself.

"I suppose you can call the house elf," he offers. Bates looks delighted.

Harry excuses himself from the table.

As he wanders down the hall a bit, it occurs to him that he has a lot of nerve being angry at Vlad for being a Death Eater when he had spent the night at the home of the most infamous of the lot. Vlad couldn't be much older than Harry and was probably dragged into the war the same way Harry was- accident of birth. Harry tries to remember Vlad's record. Michael- a lump comes into Harry's throat as he recalls Vlad's last name- Lestrange was the youngest general in Voldemort's ranks. Number of unforgivables curses was estimated at 30. Number of deaths caused was unknown. Suddenly lost favor for reasons that were still not apparent. Deserted two months before the war's end.

Somehow Harry does not feel any more favorable toward the young man, but Harry cannot help but think that Lucius will be disappointed if Harry can't at least manage some civility toward him. Harry sighs and steels himself to be faultlessly polite.

He turns the corner to find Baby and Vlad in the hallway. Michael's fingers are intertwined in Baby's long red hair and the way he looks at James hurts Harry. His lips cover James'. Harry can feel the heat from their kiss even though he is a quarter of a Quidditch pitch away. All Harry can see is the blood red of James' hair reflecting the fire light as his body blends with Michael's, the black of their clothes and Michael's hair fading into shadow. Harry's heart aches as he wonders what it's like to be kissed liked that, if he'll ever be kissed like that.

Sebastian steps out of the dining room and spies his friends. "Michael, what would your grandfather say if the Daily Prophet got a picture of you with your tongue down James' throat?"

"He'd say 'lawsuit' and everyone at the Prophet would lose that picture faster than my grandfather could make them lose their jobs," Michael replies. James laughs.

"He is the sort of bastard who'd do something like that," he says. Sebastian turns to Harry.

"What about you? Would like some coffee or would you rather just goggle at the exhibitionists?"

"I was on my way back from the bathroom, " Harry replies, blinking.

"Right, coffee for you then," Sebastian says, disappearing back into the dining room.

Michael takes Harry by the elbow, and begins to lecture him sternly. "Sebastian is the moral backbone of our group. If you corrupt him, Scryer-"

"He'll only succeed where you've already tried and failed," interrupts Gabriel. Michael pouts, then shrugs, accepting a cup of coffee.

"Mr. Scryer and I will be good friends, I'm sure," Sebastian says primly. Lucius smiles, accepting a cup of coffee from his nephew. James enters. He looks like he's been molested again. He grins at the sight of Harry turning a very becoming shade of crimson and throws himself at him, kissing him passionately.

"Looks like James already beat you to the punch," Michael remarks. Baby accepts his cup from Sebastian with thanks.

Then he makes Vlad wear the contents.

"I'll have you know this coat is older than your entire family tree," Michael says, scowling.

"High time you got a new one then," James replies flippantly, kissing Harry again.

Harry is grateful that his blush can't be seen beneath the veil of Baby's hair.

Alright, you know the deal: comments and criticism welcome. Review!

Love,

J. Silver