Have you been here all night?...(.) Prompt pretty please you're a goddess
(I haven’t really got time to do requests, but seeing as you asked so sweetly Anon…! I really enjoyed writing this, and it turned out a bit longer than anticipated, but, ahh well! 2K words of fluff to brighten your day <3)
Harry swayed as he
pushed his way through the throng in the nightclub. His vision had been getting
blurry for a while now, and he scowled as he took a swig from the bottle of
champagne dangling from his fingers. He was pretty sure he’d been aiming
to feel better, but he had a sneaking suspicion that hadn’t turned out to be
flashed in the darkness and the music pounded. He hiccupped, and ran his
free hand through his damp hair. What the hell was he doing with his
He knew the
situation with Ginny had been heading for a fall for some time, and he could
honestly say he didn’t blame her for ending things. They had been two
broken children, trying to make sense of the adult world, and it had been time
to accept that some things just couldn’t be fixed.
But it had been six
months now, and he was tired of feeling empty. But filling himself up
with booze probably wasn’t answer. He just didn’t know what else to do at
His body was slick
with sweat, and what little clothing still remained clung to his person as he
traversed the crowd. He had come with a couple of his other single
friends – Terry and Justin – but he’d lost them a while ago. How long
ago, he couldn’t tell. Time had lost all meaning in the dark and crowded
club. It was the early hours of the morning though, of that he was sure.
The thought of going
back to his cold and lifeless house spurred him back to the bar. He’d
secured his wallet and wand to his hip, jutting out of his skin tight briefs
where he could reach them, and fished out a tenner to get another…something.
Beer, bubbly, shots and shooters, he’d done them all in the space of a
few hours, but now maybe he could do with something to sip. His body
ached, and he thought he might find a quiet corner to nurse some firewhiskey.
The wizard behind
the counter didn’t flinch as Harry reached the front of the small crowd waiting
to purchase drinks. Harry thought that was rather impressive, considering
he was not only the bloody ‘Chosen One’, with his instantly
recognisable lightning bolt scar, but he was also only sporting an open shirt
over his underwear. Jeans, shoes, socks, even his tie were all long gone,
discarded along with his dignity.
“What can I get
you?” the bartender asked.
Harry opened his
mouth to reply, but it wasn’t his voice that placed the order.
“Two fingers of
brandy,” came a familiar drawl. “And a pint of water for my friend here.”
frowned, then turned to face the owner of the voice. “Malfoy?” He instinctively pulled his shirt lapels closer
together. However, seeing as he had
pinged most of the buttons off previously, there was only so much he was going
to hide. “What are you doing here?”
Malfoy gave him his
customary smirk, and handed over the coins for their drinks. “That’s a little rude, Potter.” He picked up their tumblers of brandy with
his long fingers, then pushed the water into Harry’s hands. “Drink.”
He turned without
saying anything further, but Harry understood the unspoken request to
follow. Even after all these years, and
time spent working together, Draco Malfoy still managed to make Harry’s stomach
twist. He was impeccable as always, not
a hair or crease out of place, and there Harry was, a dripping, stumbling mess.
He left the almost
finished champagne bottle on the side, and weaved through the crowd.
Of course Malfoy had
his own private booth, and once Harry had stepped over the threshold, he
watched him wave his wand to muffle out the noise of the music to a whisper,
and dim the club beyond to a shadow.
Harry suddenly felt
very cold and exposed. “Have you been
here all night?” he mumbled, moving to sit on the velvet, semi-circular sofa,
hoping the small table would hide some of his bare legs.
Malfoy sat opposite
him, leaning back and crossing his ankle to rest on his knee. “Yes.”
He took a sip of his brandy, watching Harry over the rim of his
glass. He’d left Harry’s tumbler on the
table between them, but Harry shunned it in favour of his water, which seemed
like an excellent idea right about now.
He took a big gulp,
and tried to pull his shirt over his chest again. “Right,” he uttered into the glass, averting
“I thought your
stint on the stripper pole was most entertaining,” Malfoy said, a glint in his
eye. The lighting was low and cast deep
shadows, but Harry was pretty certain he could still tell he was blushing.
supposed to see that,” he said defensively.
“No one was. I just – look it’s
not a crime to let off steam once in a while.”
“Did I say it was?” Malfoy placed his glass down, then waved his
wand again, conjuring a blanket from thin air.
He scooted along the sofa, then draped it over Harry’s shoulders. Harry froze, unsure what to make of such an
act. “You’re shivering,” Malfoy
explained. But he didn’t move away once
Harry had it wrapped around him. He just
plucked his brandy back up, and regarded Harry’s face as he took another
tightly to the blanket, grateful for its warmth. He supposed he could have cast any old charm
to heat himself up a bit, but he liked the comforting feel of the soft material
against his skin.
“Why are you here?”
he asked again.
Malfoy was beautiful. Was that
right? Was he allowed to think that
about another guy? Well, he was, so sod
it. It was only in his head, if he
wanted to think Malfoy was beautiful, no one else had to know.
“Beautiful?” Malfoy raised an eyebrow.
into his water. “What?”
But Malfoy just
stared, a tentative smile curling on his lips.
He leant forward, and brushed back one of Harry’s wayward curls. “You look sad, Potter,” he murmured. “That doesn’t seem right, that you should be
Harry wanted to deny
it, to argue he was perfectly fine, thank you very much. But the words got caught in his throat. Besides, the skin on his face where Malfoy
had touched appeared to be burning up, and he couldn’t think straight. Instead he downed the rest of his water, and
swapped to the brandy to fortify him. “What
do you care?”
Malfoy studied him
for a bit. Harry squirmed and turned his
gaze to his finger tracing along the rim of his glass, producing a faint ringing
sound as he did.
“Would it be so bad
if I did?”
Harry looked back up
at him. “Did what?”
Harry’s eyes shifted
downwards again, and he bit his lip.
Everybody thought they cared about him.
His friends, his colleagues, strangers he met on the street. But most of the time, they only cared that he
was alright. They wanted him to be their
hero still, they didn’t want to see him broken, or if they did, they wanted him
to be fixed quickly. He couldn’t afford
to disappoint them. “No,” he
admitted. “It wouldn’t be that bad.”
Malfoy wasn’t like
the others. He never pretended. He always gave it to Harry straight, even if
he was being a complete prick about it.
They had come a long way since their school days, had even worked
together several times as Aurors, and Harry had learnt to trust him. Even if it was begrudgingly at times. So if
Malfoy said he cared…that he wanted
“Can I call you
Draco?” He wasn’t sure where the
question had bubbled up from, but he swallowed as he nervously waited for the
Malfoy – Draco –
licked his lips. “Sure,” he said
softly. He raised his hand, and
carefully stroked Harry’s hair back again.
This time however, he left his fingers amongst his curls, rubbing little
circles against the scalp. Harry couldn’t
help but utter a soft moan, closing his eyes as he leant into the touch. “If I can call you Harry.”
“That’s my name,”
Harry mumbled, his eyes still closed. He
heard Malfoy chuckle.
They stayed like
that for a few moments, and Harry slumped down against the sofa, his shoulder
meeting Draco’s. How long had it been
since someone had touched him like this?
With a caress?
It was like
something a lover would do.
He hummed. “Yeah?”
There was a
pause. “Keep your eyes closed for me,
Harry felt his lips
quirk in amusement, but he didn’t really think about the request much. It was nice to not have to think, to just
trust in someone else for a change. “Sure,”
he said with a sigh.
He lost himself in
Draco’s ministrations, thinking it wouldn’t be too bad if he just fell asleep,
all wrapped up and warm, in someone else’s arms.
The kiss was so
light, he almost didn’t register it at first.
He noticed its
absence before he worked out what had happened.
Then he couldn’t help but blink his eyes open, gazing into Draco’s, his
face only an inch or two away. “Huh,” he
said, reaching up to trace his fingertips along the side of Draco’s
temple. “Your eyes are grey.” He’d never known that before.
Draco smiled. “Yes they are.”
Harry licked his
lips, a little frown creasing his brow. “You
agreed. The smile faded from his
face. Harry didn’t like that. He dropped his hand, and ran a thumb over his
lower lip. Draco’s breath hitched.
“Now you’re sad,” he
said, mirroring Draco’s comment from before.
He cupped the side
of his face to his palm, and gazed into those grey eyes. They were like pools of liquid metal in the dim
light. “You can forget about the kiss
Harry,” he said, still sad.
“But-” Harry shook his head, confused. “I don’t want to. It was nice.”
Draco narrowed his
eyes. “You don’t mean that.” Harry may have been drunk, but he could hear
the hope in his voice. “You’ll regret it
in the morning.”
Harry didn’t think
that sounded right. So he thought he’d
try an experiment.
He leant forwards,
and pressed his lips to Draco’s again.
It didn’t last long, but just enough that they could both move their
mouths a little, a touch of tongue slipping through to connect them. Harry pulled back, and Draco stared at him,
panting almost imperceptibly.
“There,” he said,
rather pleased with himself. “Now we
both kissed each other. How about we see
how we feel about that in the morning?”
Draco stared for
another moment, then barked out a laugh, mirth lighting up his eyes. It was infectious, and Harry grinned too. “Alright,” he said. “But I mean it, you can just forget all about
contented, and snuggled against his side.
“Doubt it,” he mumbled. “Can I
sounded dubious. “I could take you home
That sounded an
awful lot of bother to Harry. He shook
his head, and threw some of the blanket around Draco’s body. “Stay here,” he grumbled.
again, and brushed his fingers against Harry’s shoulder. “You’re cute when you pout,” he told him.
chastised. “Sleep now.”
He felt Draco’s sigh
through his chest. Harry smiled
victoriously to himself as he listened to Draco send a message to the
management, informing them they would be commandeering the booth until the morning. Then he enlarged the sofa to more of a bed
size, and transfigured their brandy glasses into soft, fluffy pillows. “Come here, you big lump.”
himself to be lowered down, and cuddled against Draco’s chest. He’d never been the little spoon before. It was nice.
The blanket covered them
both easily, and with Draco’s arms wrapped around him, he could soon feel himself
drifting off. “Goodnight,” Draco
whispered, placing a sweet kiss on his neck, just below his ear.
Harry was so
content, he knew it would be no trouble to stay like that all night.
And that’s exactly
what he did.
(I blame Yuri On Ice for most of that scenario lol)
Okay but cc’s descriptions of magnus’ clothes makes me cringe so much like I gotta skip over whole paragraphs of her describing him wearing red alligator capes or leather rainbow waistcoats with no shirt or some shit like that and use my own imagination before whatever ridiculous concoction of leather and glitter and sequins she’s thrown together gets burned into my brain and I can’t unsee it
It really bothers me that people who have never read Harry Potter shun it for promoting witchcraft. I don’t believe witchcraft is ever good, but, in my opinion, the magic in the series is fantastical. And it’s only a small part of what makes the series amazing. Rowling is an excellent storyteller, and I enjoyed reading the incredible story she had to tell. Harry Potter has nothing to do with cryptic seances and devil worship, but everything to do with how we live our day-to-day lives.