Didn't they tell us "Don't rush into things"?
Didn't you flash your green eyes at me?
Haven't you heard what becomes of curious minds?
Ooh, didn't it all seem new and exciting?
I felt your arms twistin' around me
Taylor Swift (Wonderland)
It must have been the war, the war that had led him here. Well the war didn't lead him to the club, but his experiences with war had. He was unable to function in silence anymore. His sense had attuned so much to the violence, the lights, the sounds of the war that in the absence of them, he tensed. His body prepared for an attack, his magic coiled, and his limbs fidgeted in anticipation of an attack. Perhaps that was why he found himself here, in the same corner of the club again and again and again, night after night.
His friends didn't understand, the Weasley's didn't. No one did. At first they thought it was just a late "teenage rebellion". A celebration that he could now be "normal", As if. Being declared Undesirable No. One had curbed any impulses he had of teenage rebellion, oh and his years at Hogwarts. Couldn't forget those now could he? All the escapades, the danger, the trouble he encountered. All of those had ruined any chance he had of ever being "normal". He wasn't normal. He never would be. He had accepted it.
He was a survivor though, and he would survive. This, this was just his method of surviving. Every night like clockwork, he would enter the club and he would find the darkest corner of it and he would sit and soak it in. Some days he only needed to stay a few minutes, 15, 30, 45. Some days he spent hours. Watching the music begin to pulse, and grow with the crowds and ebb slowly as dawn slowly broke over the endless nights.
Hermione thought he was turning into an alcoholic as a coping mechanism, the smell of alcohol repugnant on his clothes from being surrounded by it all the time. He let her believe it, even though he never had more than a pint every wednesday, the same day as when he first found the club and his cure to the side effects. Ron thought he was just doing what any bloke in his early teenage years with enough money to throw around would do. Although he was getting impatient that Harry hadn't finished his partying and came back to Ginny yet.
Ginny didn't understand either, but at least she didn't begrudge him about their relationship. She understood that they could never be anymore, she felt the same. Together, they were just a reminder of Tom Riddle to each other. She had thrown herself into her work and was off as soon as dawn broke and didn't return until late at night after practice. Neville and Luna didn't understand it either but they did always have a rather 'Live and let live' policy anytime they saw him they made sure he was alright and that was that. Of course it could be that they themselves were busy in their lives, Neville was holed up in Hogwarts's green houses and Luna always came back with tales of some more exotic creatures she had found on her travels.
Even Hermione was moving on with her job in the legal department of the MoM and Ron as a strategist with the aurors. Harry heaved a sigh as he leaned his head on one hand, the other nursing his soda as dull green eyes roamed the club. He was the only one who didn't move on, who couldn't move on. He just spent his days doing whatever struck his fancy, his afternoons always reserved for Teddy and his nights in the same club over and over again. At Least he knew for sure there was nothing that could or would disrupt his day anymore. He didn't know if that thought filled it with dread or happiness, happiness because his days of fighting were over, or dread because his days of fighting were over. He couldn't lie, a part of him missed it, the thrill of a mystery, the adrenaline of searching for something, the obsessiveness that had overtaken his life and filled him with a purpose.
Dumbledore had created a weapon which had ended the war, yet people forgot that once the war was over, the weapons were also put aside, forgotten, without a purpose just gathering dust. He wondered if he should have just moved on back then often. At least he wouldn't have had to worry about doing something then. He could have been at peace, or whatever the equivalent of it is for him. His parents maybe, yet he knew that wasn't the right answer. As terrible as it sounded, the only time he had had any semblance of peace was when he was stuck in that stupid cupboard, with his army of spiders and strings of broken toys, when he was left alone to his imagination, forgotten by the world. That seemed to be the mantra of his family, everyone seemed to have forgotten the Potters. Oh they were revered, he was revered, and that was all they were left to be. The mythical Potter family, with the handsome, kind, powerful, pureblood father, the beautiful, sly, intelligent muggleborn mother, and him, the Boy-Who-Lived, their beacon of hope.
Merlin, he couldn't stand it.
All of a sudden, a sudden flash of gold caught his eye, successfully distracting him from his brooding. His trained eyes scanned the club, wondering what it was that had caught his eye. His seeker reflexes made it so that it took him hardly a minute to find the flash of gold, and when he found it, his breath got caught in his throat and his brain stuttered to a stop.
Beautiful.
That was the only thought in his mind. He was unable to look away from her, from her flowing hair to swaying limbs, to her body covered in slips of gold and crystals. He didn't know how it was possible, but he could hear her laughter from all the way across the club, over the pulsing music and the shouts of strangers. Her body glimmered in the lights, he didn't know if it was sweat or some sort of makeup or something otherworldly, but he didn't care, all he cared about was knowing who she was, knowing her name, her thoughts, her laughter, her dreams, knowing her. He was convinced she couldn't be a normal human, the way she moved was magical.
She was magic.
He was sure of it, she had bewitched him completely to the point he wasn't even aware of his action. He wasn't even aware of the fact that he stood up, much less that he was making his way towards her, not until he stood still in the middle of the dance floor when he saw someone else approach her. Distaste rolled in his stomach as he saw someone else try to get her attention, he watched as that man touched her shoulder. Jealousy coated his being at the thought of her dancing with anyone else. Satisfaction coursed through him when he saw her shake her head in the negative and turn back to her friends. Rage slammed into him when he saw that man's face twist into something ugly and as he grabbed her hand, trying to pull her to him.
He wasn't sure if he had apparated or just moved fast, he didn't care either way, as if the Ministry would dare try to incarcerate him. All he cared about was that he was between her and the slug who had dared to try to force her. His hand enclosed around the wrist which was currently holding her beautiful arm hostage. His nose wrinkled in disgust at the wet feeling of sweat beneath his palm. He pushed a little magic into his hand making the slug's bones break. The slug cried out in pain, abruptly leaving her arm. Harry smoothly stepped in front of her, shielding her from the crying man. He watched dispassionately as rage filled the slug's face, two of his friends surrounding him. The three idiots looked up at him, he could read their intent very well, it was the same intent he used to see in Dudley and his gang. Unfortunately for them, Harry wasn't that same intimidated kid anymore, he was a war hero now, the one who did the intimidating. He flared his magic around him, they wouldn't be able to sense it but they would feel distressed all the same.
Faced with the dark haired man whose stare intimidated death eaters and killed Voldermort and the indomitable aura surrounding him, the three idiots did the only sensible thing and backed away.
Heart pounding, Harry tucked his magic away, he didn't want to scare her. He rearranged his face into an expression of polite concern before spinning sharply to face her. Snape would have been proud of that spin, if he had ever liked him even a little bit.
Fuck.
Her eyes were amber. Beautiful, curious, grateful pools of amber.
He bent a little, so that his mouth was right by hers and whispered in her ear in such a manner that his lips skimmed the barest hints of her skin. "Are you alright?" Oh and he had become very well versed in the art of seduction in his 'rebellion'.
He watched her shiver slightly, satisfaction curling through his stomach. He hadn't touched at all yet he had affected her already. She leaned into him then, making him tense slightly even though his outward countenance was still of polite concern. He felt the heat of her through her dress and his shirt, his hands itching to grab onto her but he persisted. He would not touch her without her consent, especially not when she was drunk. Her legs, already precarious in high heels, stretched even more as she stood on her toes to reach Harry's ear, her unbound hair swaying between them and tickling his collarbone as he got a strange whiff of jasmines. He knew that was what Amorentia would smell like for him from now on.
"Thank you." She breathed into his ear, using the same tactic he had used on her. Just then, her drunkenness, her wobbly heels and the adrenaline crash made her stumble onto Harry. His arms came up quickly to wrap around her waist. He could feel his body tensing at the heat soaking through his palms through the soft silk of her dress. A drunken laugh reached his ears, his eyes latching onto the woman now in his arms, her hands clenching his cotton shirt in her fist. Amusement lit up his eyes.
God she was beautiful. It wasn't just her looks, but her whole being that had first drawn him to her. She radiated joy and happiness. She felt content. And that's how she looked too now, completely content in his arms.
Abruptly her laugh cut off as she peered at him. He cocked his head, wondering what had caught her attention. Her hand left his shirt and began moving towards his face. His heart began thudding continuously in his chest, time slowed around him as his world focused on her and only her.
Until she poked his eye.
"Shit." he cussed, one hand coming up to rub his offending eye while the other was still wrapped around her securely, he was sure she would fall if he let her go. And now that he had found her, he was never letting her go.
"Okay! That's it. Come on Lia." a woman with black hair and icy blue eyes wearing a tiara and a sash which said 'bride' tugged her out of his arms.
"I'm so sorry about that. Are you alright?" She asked politely while trying to make sure she (Lia, his mind supplied) didn't escape out of her grasp.
"Yes, I am. Is your friend alright?" he asked, his gaze never wavering from the beautiful brunette. She beamed and blushed under his scrutiny, her hand coming up to wave to him happily. Two of their friends behind them laughing at her antics.
"You have beautiful eyes." She giggled out. Harry's cheeks flushed. He had had a lot of people comment on his eyes, yet for the first time he felt shy, hearing her proclaim that his eyes were beautiful in her voice made him melt inside.
Her friend observed this from the sidelines, watching how her friend was fascinated by the stranger and how the stranger seemed too enamoured to remove his eyes from her. Making a split decision she turned around to the rest of their group, thrusting Lia into them. "Make sure she doesn't go anywhere will you?" Turning back to the stranger she dug a pen out of her purse. She snatched his arm before Harry could protest and began scribbling out a number.
"Here, this is Lia's number. She probably won't wake up until tomorrow afternoon, so you best call her around 2 when she's human again. She's going to be out of the country next week so if possible take her out this weekend, that will give you 2 days to plan something unique. She is an absolutely wonderful person and my best friend so if you do anything and I mean anything to hurt her, the police will be digging up parts of you for the next ten years. Understood?"
For a second Harry just stood dumbstruck looking into the icy blue eyes and fearing what she would do if he did hurt Lia (unintentionally of course, he could never hurt anyone, much less her intentionally or rather without cause). Seeing the blue eyes narrowing at his lack of a response, he nodded quickly, snatching his arm back from her. Damn she was scary, she reminded him of Hermione when she was on one of her crusades.
Satisfied with that, the black haired woman turned back to her group of friends and began ushering them out. Harry continued watching them until they made it out of the door, watching for every single glance of her. And just as the group was about to vanish into the cold night, she turned around, brown hair flying as her eyes met his and she smiled.
And Harry died. He knew, he just knew that until the day he died, he would never ever forget that sight. The sight of her, standing in the midst of the pulsing lights and roving bodies, gold and crystals wrapped around her frame. He knew that was the sight that would power his future patronuses.
