Drarry One Shots

Private Dancer (The First Phase)

A/N A relatively short one for me and a bit of a tribute to the late Tina Turner. The above tattoo is an example of Kintsugi inkwork described in the story. Kintsugi relates to the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the cracks/faults with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise (more in story).

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Draco ignored that twist of loneliness as he locked the door to his tiny and miserable flat and walked down Roupell Street towards Southwark station amongst people who refused to even look at each other as they hurried away in their own worlds. He ignored the lingering disquiet of loneliness as he sat on the tube amongst silent commuters plugged into their headphones and their newspapers on their individual journeys across London. He ignored the stifling loneliness as he nodded 'hello' to Animal and Nige who stood in intimidating and stoic muteness on the door of the Muggle 'gentleman's club' on Coventry Street. He ignored jolt of loneliness as the door slammed shut behind him as he went into the grey-walled store room that Rob, Stu, and him also used as a cramped changing room.

But all that inner loneliness he carried was his fault... he knew it was all his fault... so he ignored it all.

And with all that self-punishment of loneliness came relief at reaching this strange unwelcoming sanctuary buried in the heart of Muggle London. It was the last place on earth someone would think to look for a gay ex-Death-Eater.

'Hi, Dray,' Rob said, as he pulled on a white string vest over his snug white crop top that showed off his defined abs. He was already wearing rather tight white leather trousers and white cowboy boots.

Tonight was the annual White Party at Platinum Lace, hence the choice in attire. Simon had specified exactly what his staff should wear and provided their 'uniforms'.

Rob lifted a cowboy hat, also white, from the peg above where he'd slung his rucksack and angled it jauntily on the back of his head, light-brown curls escaping beneath the rim with unruly defiance. He gave the brim a small tweak and winked cheekily at Draco with a grin that was normally reserved for, in his words; the ladies. Draco knew it meant nothing. Though Rob wasn't afraid of his sexuality and would dance with anyone for the money.

'Hi, Rob,' Draco said, his light tone disguising his heavy heart. He was always so good at hiding what he was feeling, of hiding the truth. Life plodded on. He'd chosen this route. He taken this path. But he'd always taken the path of least resistance and it had always landed him exactly at the place he never wanted to be when it was always too late to turn things around and go back.

'Simon's left yours on the hanger on the rack,' Rob said, 'he requested you wear the shorts, reckons you might get a gig later so you need to show off those lovely legs of yours.'

Draco grimaced, sighed heavily and stripped off completely and pulled on a silvery satin G-string affair that he found bloody uncomfortable, no matter how many times he wore one. Still, he was glad he'd been for his full-body waxing the day before. He checked himself in the single long narrow mirror on the back of the door. The mirror was old, patinaed around the edges, the lighting dim and greyish. He looked an unhealthy hue of greyness as he watched his reflection adjust and make sure everything was tucked away as it should be. He saw a shadow of himself, identifiable as him but also not the true image. It mirrored how he was living his life; a ghost.

'...Three stag dos booked in tonight,' Rob continued, unfazed by Draco's nudity.

They'd all got used to nudity here, nature of the business. Draco had found it so uncomfortable when he first started working at the club when he'd got a job washing glasses on minimal wage. He found it especially uncomfortable as the girls who worked the podiums and private booths had long since lost all inhibitions and were quite at ease wandering around half-naked, even out of hours. He wondered when he'd lost his inhibitions too. He certainly wasn't bothered anymore, even with his scars and tattoos and the half-covered remains of the Dark Mark.