Friday Afternoon
07 August 2009
Harry's POV
"So, erm, Harry," Hermione said suddenly, biting her lip.
We were having tea in muggle London, enjoying the last days of summer, lounging on the patio of one of our favourite tea spots.
"Hmm?"
"I know you and Blaise got on okay at your party," she launched right into it, glancing at Ron for encouragement, I supposed.
"Yeah, he was great," I admitted. "Why? Want to hang out again?"
She nodded, smiling happily.
"Yes," she sighed, still swirling her teacup in her hands nervously. "Ron and I were thinking of going out for a pint with both our work partners," she continued. "And we want you to come with, obviously."
"Ok," I agreed, not understanding how she could be so nervous about that.
Then, Hermione took a deep breath and looked me straight in the eye.
Uh-oh. This wasn't good.
"My work partner is Draco," she stated, watching me closely for my reaction.
Oh.
Draco had mentioned that they worked together, but I hadn't thought of them as work partners, per se. I'd assumed there was a whole bunch of them in the Department of Mysteries, all working together to, well, you know. Solve mysteries.
I carefully schooled my face into what I hoped was a neutral expression.
"Oh?"
"Erm, yeah," she glanced at her hands, twisting nervously in her lap.
"He's really changed," she added quickly. "Really."
"He's not at all the way he was at school," Ron added helpfully.
"You've hung out with Malfoy?"
Merlin, what was my world coming to?
Ron shrugged.
"He's joined Blaise and me for a few," he admitted. "He was fine. Bloody hilarious, actually. Witty bugger, that one."
"Draco does have a wicked sense of humour," Hermione admitted, smiling fondly.
I sat there staring at both of them. Never mind that I was fucking Malfoy. That was different, mind.
"So, what do you say, Harry?" Ron asked.
I looked from him to Hermione, taking in the hopeful expressions on both their faces and sighed.
"I can't believe I'm agreeing to this, but...ok."
"Excellent," Hermione was all but beaming at me. "You'll see, it'll be fun."
I snorted.
I was sure this outing was going to be any number of things. I just wasn't sure fun would be one of them.
***
Turns out, they'd invited Pansy Parkinson along, too, I realised as I entered the pub and saw Hermione, Ron, Blaise, and Pansy sitting at a table in the corner just past the bar. Draco was yet to show, it seemed.
It made sense, I supposed. She and I, the third-wheel to their working-partner duos, or something like that.
Ron, Hermione, and I usually hung out in muggle establishments to keep me out of the limelight, and I'd been surprised that Blaise and Draco had agreed to this. But Parkinson in a Muggle pub? This had to be a first.
"Harry!" Hermione waved me over excitedly as though I'd somehow missed them, and I couldn't help but grin.
"Hello," I greeted the four of them, smiling.
I slung one arm loosely around Ron's shoulder, then leaned over to give Hermione a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, per my usual greeting, before taking a seat between the two of them.
Blaise was seated to Ron's left and Pansy to Hermione's right, with a sixth empty chair, presumably for Draco, between them. Directly across from me.
"What, Potter, no kiss hello for me?" Pansy deadpanned, looking downright hurt.
I stared at her, mouth slightly open, before bursting out laughing.
"Sorry, Parkinson, where are my manners?" I teased.
"Don't mind Pansy," Blaise drawled, taking a sip of his pint. "She'll do anything to get attention from a fit bloke."
"Well, in that case, Parkinson, I suppose I've no choice but to greet you properly," I said, winking as I stood from my seat and made my way around the table, giving Pansy a lingering kiss on her cheek, keeping my arm wrapped around her shoulders as I sat at the empty seat between her and Blaise.
Might as well mix things up a little, I supposed.
"Merlin, Potter, who would've guessed you were such a flirt?" Pansy teased, lifting a hand to stroke my hand resting on her shoulder.
"Harry's incorrigible," Hermione informed her, and I shrugged.
"Worked well for me, so far," I reasoned. "'Course, you should probably be aware I'm more keen to take home someone from the other team." I slid a glance back at Pansy, grinning as I removed my arm.
"Of course you are," she grumbled, although her eyes were sparkling with mirth. "You lot insist on taking all the pretty ones."
"Surely that's the point, Luv," I winked, then glanced around the table at their nearly empty pints. "Is everyone ready for another round? This one's on me."
"Absolutely," Ron agreed, enthusiastically draining the remainder of his pint and pounding it back on the table.
I rose from my seat yet again to make my way to the bar, eyeing the taps as I did so.
"Get Draco something blond," Hermione called. "He got held up at work but said he'll be here shortly."
I leaned against the bar, flagging the barman down and ordered another round, adding a brown ale and a blond lager for Malfoy.
Of course, he drank blond beer.
"Here, mate," Blaise said, appearing suddenly at my elbow. "I'll help you carry."
"Thanks," I replied. I'd been wondering how I'd get all six pints back to the table without spilling or using magic. "Where's Anaïs?"
"She and Fleur are having their own ladies' night," he answered, grabbing three of the pints the barman set down. "Figured there's enough baggage being unpacked tonight without adding those two to the mix."
"Fair enough," I reasoned, grabbing the other three pints to head back to the table.
"So, Potter," Pansy continued as though I'd never left. "Aside from all that nonsense drivel the Prophet prints, what have you been up to?"
"Pulling blokes," Ron answered for me, smirking. "Then complaining they don't measure up to his standards."
I pulled a face at Ron but didn't comment as I took a sip of my pint.
"Potter!" Pansy squealed in delight. "Who would've guessed we'd have so much in common!"
"Oh? You find a lot to complain about, too?" I asked, looking over at her with a genuine smile.
"They're so silly," she confided, leaning closer to me. "Thinking they can hide their little imperfections like they won't come out to air themselves after a few dates. Like we don't know men are all sex-driven idiots, at their core."
I laughed just as much at Pansy's comment as at the indignant faces Ron and Blaise both shot in her direction.
"I mean, you're not wrong," I agreed.
I was certainly guilty of being a sex-driven idiot of late if my actions around a certain blond wizard were any indication.
"You'll have to come with Drakey and me for a decent boy-hunting session one weekend," she informed me. "It'll be fun. Drakey always rakes the dumb ones across the coals, and the poor fools have no idea."
"Drakey?" I echoed. Oh, I was going to have to steal that one.
"Spilling all of my secrets already, are we, Pans?" Draco's drawl came smoothly from right behind me, and I spun around to face him.
Merlin, this was going to be a long night.
Draco was dressed in a light grey button-down that seemed to fit him perfectly, the sleeves rolled up to show off the well-defined tendons of his forearms. People tended to overlook forearms, and I couldn't understand why. They were damn sexy and, quite often, a good indicator of a perfectly formed body hiding beneath all that pesky clothing.
His long legs were encased in charcoal-coloured trousers that, like his shirt, seemed tailored specifically for him, showing off the perfect curve of his arse, and I took a second to thank the gods that he'd spend most of the evening sitting on it so that I wouldn't have to spend the evening reminding myself not to take another look.
And his hair. Sweet Merlin, his goddamn hair.
It was loose and tousled, as though he'd just woken up. Or just had a spectacular shag. And I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I wanted nothing more than to run my hands through it while I dragged him back to his bed to muss it up even more.
"Just a small peace offering for Potter," Pansy soothed, wrapping her arms around Draco's neck and kissing his cheek hello. "He deserves it."
She reached up and ruffled his hair affectionately, and I about died of jealousy.
"Well, if it's a peace offering you're after, Potter, I've got loads on Pansy," Draco assured me, smirking down at me, then making his way round the table to take the empty seat between Hermione and Ron.
"'Mione, Ron, Blaise," he said, raising his pint glass to each of them in turn, then looking around the table with a grin. "Well, I dare say Hell has definitely frozen over."
It was the truth. Who would've ever guessed the six of us would be meeting for friendly pints on a Friday night?
"Is everything ok with the... you know?" Hermione asked, and Draco nodded.
"All under control," he assured her.
"You two just love it," Blaise accused, glaring at the two of them good-naturedly. "I can't talk about work, but let's drop juicy hints anyway," he teased.
"Better than listening to you two complain about Auror duties," Draco retorted, and I had to snigger at that.
Ron loved nothing more than to complain about the physical demands of his job.
As though being a professional Quidditch player were a walk in the park.
"Speaking of careers, Parkinson, what is it that you do?" I asked, genuinely curious.
"I'm a solicitor," she replied. "Hoping to be appointed to the Wizengamot in a few years," she added.
"I've told Draco a thousand times," she continued, turning to Hermione, "to thank whoever it was in your Department that convinced our world that we needed to follow the Muggle tradition of due process. But just in case, could you be a dear and thank them, too?"
"Hear, hear," I agreed, raising my pint.
I would have loved to have had legal counsel during my proceedings with the Wizengamot and had been one of the most vocal supporters of adopting the Muggle practice when the Ministry had announced its intentions a few years back.
"I've already told them several times that you're forever indebted for allowing you to turn your aggravating habit of being an insufferable, nosy, busy-body into a career," Draco assured her, earning himself a smack across the table from Pansy and a burst of laughter from Hermione.
I suddenly had a sneaking suspicion as to who had been responsible for introducing the Muggle legal system to the Ministry.
"Harry," Blaise said suddenly. "That was a brilliant game last match."
"Thanks," I responded, not quite meeting Draco's eye.
That had been the last time I'd seen him.
When I'd left him on the brink of a spectacular orgasm before apparating home and I was sure the bastard was going to retaliate somehow.
Later that afternoon, we'd played a match against the Cannons that had lasted all but three minutes before I'd swooped in and caught the Snitch, setting a record.
Definitely had nothing to do with the euphoric high I was on from an epic fuck session with a certain blond wizard.
"That was brilliant," Draco agreed, taking a gulp from his pint. "Set a record, didn't you?"
I nodded, finishing off my own pint and wiping the foam from my lip with the back of my hand.
"And to think, Harry almost didn't get to play," Ron sniggered.
Fuck. No. Ron. Just. No.
Three pairs of eyes turned towards me with interest.
Fuck.
"Almost didn't get to play?" Draco asked, blue-grey eyes positively sparkling with anticipation. "Why ever not, Potter?"
There was no way he could possibly know. No fucking way.
"It was nothing," I lied, hoping to smooth the story away and move on. "Ron's just got the emotional maturity of a thirteen-year-old and thinks idiotic things are funny."
Ron flipped me off but continued to snigger into his pint.
"Too true," Blaise agreed, and I breathed a premature sigh of relief.
"Oy!" Ron protested, glaring at his partner, who continued without skipping a beat.
"I'm well aware, being his partner and all, but," Blaise turned his hazel gaze to Hermione, who was also giggling maniacally, "we all know Hermione's as mature as they come, yet she's over there giggling like a horny sixteen-year-old about to meet Alistair Fawley (Fawley was the newest wizarding pop sensation, taking the wizarding world by storm), so I'm inclined to overlook Ron's emotional immaturity and agree that this must be quite the story."
Blaise's stare turned back to me as he finished his argument and he smiled a perfectly Slytherin smile.
"Spill it, Potter."
"Really, it was nothing," I insisted, staring down at my empty pint, wondering if I'd be able to buy a second round and hope the conversation had passed by the time I got back.
Grasping at straws, Potter, I told myself.
"Coach just thought I'd taken ill, is all."
"Why would they think you'd taken ill?" Pansy demanded, eyes narrowing. "What sort of ill? What symptoms did you have?"
I turned my head to stare at her incredulously. I'd thought Hermione's questioning was intimidating.
"Solicitor Parkinson," Draco sing-songed from across the table, smirking at me.
"Blimey, Hermione," Ron said, looking at his wife with apprehension, "This Slytherin lot take questioning seriously."
He glanced back over at me and offered a small smile of apology, clearly not having understood what he was getting me into.
"I'm waiting, Potter," Pansy reminded me in a singsong voice.
"Had some trouble sitting on your broomstick?" Blaise joked, cackling to himself.
"My brilliant performance whilst sitting on said broomstick lays to rest any credibility for that statement, I'm sure," I retorted, fixing Blaise with my most withering stare.
"Oooh!" Blaise's face was pure glee. "Snarky Potter! I like!"
"Potter, quit trying to evade the subject," Pansy barked. "Spill it. Now. Why did Coach think you were ill? I'm not letting this go."
"I'm going to go grab another round," Ron said meekly, slipping away before I could decide to hex him.
And I was, I told myself, as Hermione also rose to help her husband carry.
I was going to hex his fucking balls off.
"There was a bout of throat infection going round," I muttered, defeated.
Laughter erupted around the table, and I swear Malfoy's brows nearly lifted right off his stupid forehead, his mouth dropping open, a look of utter glee dancing across his face.
Git.
"Look! Christmas has come a second time around for Drakey-pooh!" Pansy giggled.
"Oh, it has!" he agreed, still looking at me in absolute delight.
"So, you're all up to speed, then?" Ron was back to sniggering with the rest of them as he and Hermione returned, setting fresh pints on the table.
"Drakey-pooh?" I repeated, staring at Draco, amazed that Pansy was still standing after uttering such an endearing epithet.
"You can Drakey-pooh me all you want, Potter," Draco's shoulders were shaking with laughter. "It sounds so much better coming from that pretty, apparently talented mouth of yours."
Bastard.
"Jealous, Malfoy?" I taunted, and the rest of the table began to look at each other a bit worried, as though we might start hexing each other right there in the middle of a muggle pub. Not surprising, really, given our history.
Malfoy merely chuckled and slung an arm over the back of his barstool, lifting his new pint to his lips.
"Hardly," he assured me, eyes meeting mine. He smirked and raised an elegant eyebrow at me knowingly as he took another sip, and I just about hexed the arsehole right there.
"Potter," Pansy's voice called me back to the group. "Don't think you're getting off so easily."
I turned to stare at her, bewildered. This was getting off easy?
Draco and Blaise both pulled faces and looked at me sympathetically.
"Here's the part where we actually feel sorry for you, Potter," Blaise sighed, and Draco raised his eyebrows in agreement as he stared down into his pint.
What in the name of sacred Hecate was going on?
"What do you mean?" I demanded, looking frantically at Pansy. "I just told you! You all know. What do you mean, getting off easily? This isn't easy, Pansy!"
"Details, Potter," Pansy said briskly. "We need details. All we know is your coach thought you'd caught a nasty throat infection."
I gawped at her, mouth opening and closing, looking quite like a goldfish, I was sure.
"What the fuck else is there to know?" I demanded, honestly at a bit of a loss.
"Walk us through it," Pansy continued. "You arrived at the stadium, having just thoroughly enjoyed yourself, apparently. Then what?"
This could not be happening.
Across the table, Draco was doing his best to quiet his laughter but was doing an absolute shite job, I might add.
"Draco, shut up," Pansy barked, snapping her eyes over in his direction. "Don't behave as though you haven't been in Potter's position more times than you can count, and don't think I don't have a whole goddamned slew of your secrets I could spill across this table."
Draco sobered immediately and straightened up.
"Sorry, Potter," he muttered, not quite meeting my eye.
I turned to Pansy in awe.
"Damn, Pansy," I breathed. "I don't know whether I love you or hate you."
"It's love, darling, I assure you," she informed me, winking. "Now, continue. Who noticed first? What happened?"
"Blimey, if I ever need a solicitor, I'm hiring you," Ron sounded no less awestruck.
"If you shut up and let Harry tell us his story, I might even give you the mate's rate," Parkinson shot back, still looking at me expectantly.
"I don't know," I sighed. "I mean, we were in the locker room, and I don't remember who it was, but some teammates thought... well, you know... thought I had a sore throat."
Draco couldn't help collapsing in a fresh bout of giggles across the table.
"Draco," Pansy warned.
He straightened again and shot her a pleading look as though saying he couldn't help himself, and I smirked to myself.
Pansy was clearly going to make sure Draco stayed in line.
"Potter, continue," she instructed, taking a large sip, eyes watching me as she did so.
"So they told me I should sit the match out 'cause it was just the Cannons; sorry, Ron," I said automatically, knowing Ron's feathers were ruffled without even looking.
"To which you said?"
"No."
Well, that part had been easy enough.
"Why did you say no?" Blaise was laughing as well, but apparently, this was allowed in Pansy's book of rules because she made no effort to stop him. "I mean, they had a point. It was the Cannons. Robins surely could've handled himself!"
I shrugged. I honestly had no idea why I'd insisted on playing and was now, figuratively, kicking myself for being so goddamned stubborn.
"So then what?"
"They went and told Coach," I replied, licking my lips slowly, hoping Draco was watching. I smiled to myself when I noticed him biting his lip out of the corner of my eye.
"They all know I'm a stubborn arse," I admitted, taking a sip of my pint, using it as an excuse to pull my bottom lip into my mouth, all the while gazing at Malfoy innocently.
Malfoy very pointedly looked anywhere but at me, and I continued, celebrating my small victory silently.
"So... Coach showed up, and agreed, and told me he was going to bench me."
"Merlin, Harry, how awful did you sound?" Blaise chuckled.
"It was pretty bad, Harry," Hermione answered for me, and I seriously regretted having talked to her or Ron that day. "You sounded horrible."
"Thanks, 'Mione."
She just grinned, not even having the decency to look remorseful.
"Potter, did you seriously argue with your coach after that?" Malfoy looked incredulous.
"I wanted to play," I defended myself.
"I was feeling good," I added, almost as an afterthought.
The table erupted in fresh sniggers, and Blaise gasped out:
"The Boy Wonder, fuelled by a healthy dose of man juice!"
"Ugh, Blaise," I groaned. "That was terrible!"
"But true," Malfoy interjected, clapping Blaise on the shoulder, and the two of them couldn't help but burst out laughing.
"Both of you need to shut up," Pansy ordered.
Draco, I noted, sobered immediately, whereas Blaise continued to snigger, albeit more quietly.
Clearly, Pansy had some excellent dirt on Malfoy.
"Pansy," I said, keeping my gaze on Draco. "It seems you have quite the stash on Malfoy. Once I'm finished embarrassing myself here, I think it's only fair you share something for my trouble."
"We'll see," she conceded. "But I will say if only his Hogwarts four-poster could talk...."
The look Draco gave her would have positively murdered a lesser witch, but Pansy seemed as though she hadn't even noticed.
"Not just his four-poster," Blaise groaned. "We all shared a flat just after the war, and this one here always forgot to put up a silencing charm."
He shuddered dramatically.
"You could have just as easily put one up," Draco shot back, draining his pint. "That's on you, Blaise."
"Draco has a decidedly filthy mouth," Pansy informed Hermione, Ron, and I, as though letting us in on a secret.
"You don't say," I responded mildly. That was putting it lightly.
"Some blokes seem to love it," Draco responded, shrugging, grey-blue eyes slanting in my direction.
"So, Coach says you're not playing, you, being the head-strong, stubborn git that you are, kept insisting that you are," Pansy summarised. I nodded. "You're not finished with this story until you tell us how you convinced the team to let you play."
I groaned and downed the rest of my pint.
"I need a refill," I insisted, raising the empty glass and waving it in Pansy's face expectantly.
"Right," she agreed. "But don't think I'm going to forget and let you slide, Potter."
Pansy rose from her seat and looked at the others expectantly.
"Pints all around?"
Everyone nodded, and Pansy strode off towards the bar.
"Merlin, she's terrifying," Ron informed us all in an exaggerated whisper.
"You've no idea," Draco agreed, glancing over his shoulder at Pansy as she ordered with the barman.
He stood suddenly and began walking towards the bar, where he sidled up to Pansy.
"Draco and Pans have always had a very weird, very close relationship," Blaise informed us all.
"Is she really going to make me tell every gory detail of this story?" I whinged, and Blaise chuckled.
"Yes," he sighed, smiling ruefully. "A word of advice, Harry. Make it easier on yourself, and just wrap the story up. With all the details. It's like a plaster. Don't peel it back slowly. Just rip it off."
"Right," I nodded as Pansy and Draco returned with the pints.
"Here you are, Potter," Pansy purred, setting my new pint before me.
"Thanks, Pans, you're a doll," I drawled sarcastically.
"I know," she said, waving a hand carelessly in my direction. "Now finish this wonderful story. I do love how we're all bonding, don't you?"
I stuck my tongue out at her and took a sip of my pint before resigning myself to continue.
"Ugh. I can't believe I'm telling you all this," I sighed.
"Really, mate, you didn't even tell us this part," Ron reminded me.
"What? How are you even friends?" Malfoy gasped in mock shock, clutching a hand to his heart.
"Shut. Up." Pansy scowled at us all before turning to me and smiling. "Go ahead, Potter."
"So Coach called the team Medi-Wizard to have a look at me," I continued, cringing at the memory of Dickerson examining me.
"What? Harry!" Hermione squealed, clutching Draco's arm in anticipation. "Why didn't you tell us this? That's hysterical! What did he say?"
"..."
"Spill it, Potter," Pansy reminded me.
"He said..." I began, already feeling the blush rising up my cheeks.
"Hesaidmythroatlookedredandraw," I mumbled, taking another sip of my pint.
"I'm sorry, what was that, Potter?" Draco demanded, looking as though Christmas had come round for a third time this year.
"Yes, Potter, really," Pansy agreed. "I don't think any of us quite caught that."
"He. Said. My. Throat. Looked. Red. And. Raw," I ground out, enunciating each word clearly, burying my head in my hands as the rest of them collapsed into giggles.
"Potter!" Blaise gasped, reaching over to pat me on the back. "Sweet Merlin, that's the best thing I've heard in ages! Honestly, I think you love cock more than Draco!"
Draco snorted.
"I just know when to pull off and save some treat for next time," he countered, taking a sip of his own pint and wiping his mouth daintily. "Really, Potter, didn't your fuckboy even try to look out for you and tell you to leave off?"
Bastard.
He had, I remembered all too clearly.
My face, apparently, let everyone else know the answer as well, if their fresh bout of laughter was anything to go by.
"Careful, Potter," Draco had cautioned as I slid down, swallowing that beautiful cock yet again. "You're not going to be able to talk if you keep that up."
I couldn't have cared less.
I'd continued to swallow and suck at Draco's cock, finally releasing it reluctantly.
"Why don't you let me worry about that, Malfoy?" I'd sighed, mouthing and kissing along the side of his length as I did so before allowing myself to suck him all the way down to the hilt once more.
It really was my fault, I conceded, consoling myself with another sip of beer.
"So, let me get this straight, Harry," Hermione shook her head as though to clear it. "Your teammates thought you'd caught a throat infection. You insisted you were fine. Then Coach came and agreed."
She was ticking these off on her fingers in true Hermione fashion.
"Then the team Medi-Wizard showed, all but confirming their suspicions... and you... still insisted on playing?"
"Stubborn git," Malfoy chided softly, eyes watching me carefully from over the rim of his pint as he took another sip.
"I told him I was sure he'd never encountered anything quite like this in his career as a Quidditch Medi-Wizard, but that I was fine. Quite wonderful, actually, and that I was perfectly fit to play the match," I admitted, cringing again at the shocked look on Dickerson's face as he'd realised what I was implying.
"Potter," I glanced over at Pansy, who was gazing at me with absolute admiration in her eyes. "You are, beyond doubt, my new favourite person ever."
"Quit your whinging, Draco. You know you're grandfathered in," she added, not skipping a beat or even looking in Draco's direction.
"I didn't say anything!" Draco protested.
"I know, darling, but I could hear you screeching your discontent in my head," Pansy replied, turning to look at him and giving him a genuine smile.
"Potter," Pansy's attention was back on me.
"When did you come out? I know you were married to Ginny for years. The Prophet made sure everyone knew about that and the divorce," she added, glancing at Ron.
"Harry's complexion didn't match the red beard," Ron roared, bungling his stellar joke a bit this many pints in, but it got the point across, and we all laughed.
"Wait, what?" Blaise gasped. "You both knew the other was queer?"
"Of course," I replied. "We sort of figured it out together."
"How do you mean, exactly?" Draco asked, frowning. "That just sounds horribly awkward and uncomfortable," he added.
"It was," I admitted.
"Ooh! Harry!" Hermione squealed suddenly, and we all turned to look at her. "It's our song!"
Sure enough, I could hear the strains of "None of Your Business" by Salt-n-Pepa blaring from the speakers, and I stood on the foot bar of my barstool as did Hermione, and we began to dance and sing:
"If I wanna take a guy home with me tonight, it's none of your business!"
I'd discovered hip-hop as a teenager when I'd overheard Aunt Petunia and one of the neighbours complaining about this "horrid rap music" that was destroying the youth and, as an act of rebellion, had committed myself to learn all I could about this wonderful genre.
Turned out I actually liked it.
And, in retrospect, the fact that I'd spent countless afternoons during my summers home dancing around my room to this particular song, it's pretty sad it took me so long to figure out I was gay as could be.
I'd been just as surprised that Hermione, apparently, loved the genre, and this song, as well.
Hermione and I noticed that we were the only ones at our table dancing enthusiastically, and we sat down quickly.
"Wow," Blaise broke the silence first. "What is this song?"
"It's what I'm going to write, verbatim, to the prophet once they figure out I'm bent," I drawled.
The group paused to listen attentively to the lyrics:
What's the matter with your life?
Why you gotta mess with mine?
Don't keep sweatin' what I do
'Cause I'm gonna be just fine.
If I wanna take a guy home with me tonight
It's none of your business
And if she want to be a freak and sell it on the weekend
It's none of your business
Now you shouldn't even get into who I'm givn' skins to
It's none of your business
So don't try to change my mind. I'll tell you one more time
It's none of your business
"Please do, Potter," Blaise grinned over at me. "Write it to the Prophet. That'd be bloody epic."
"Consider it done," I assured him as I stood on the foot of the stool once more, raising my arms over my head to continue dancing shamelessly in my seat.
I nearly jumped when I felt a pair of hands gently brush my sides, just below my shoulder blades, and continue smoothing down my sides, coming to rest on my hips, a foreign cheek nuzzling against my own, and a smooth, deep voice in my ear.
"Sorry if I'm being forward, Luv, but damn."
I spun around to see an absolutely delicious man standing behind me.
Dark, chocolate-brown eyes twinkled at me from beneath a thick fringe of lashes. My eyes dropped to his arms, noting the well-defined forearms, snug-fitting black v-neck, and jeans that left little to the imagination.
"Name's Tristan," he added, grinning lazily.
Well, hello, Tristan, I thought, smirking down at him as I sank back into my seat, wrapping my arms around his neck.
"Hullo, Tristan," I purred, pulling him close. "I'm Harry."
"Hi, Harry," he replied, leaning in to brush his lips against mine.
I was vaguely aware of five pairs of eyes on the two of us and had a brief flicker of worry that Draco would positively hex the bollocks off of Tristan, but I threw caution to the wind and leaned into his kiss, slipping my tongue briefly into his mouth before pulling away.
"Care to take me back to yours?" I murmured, and he grinned.
"I'd be silly not to," he replied, then, as though just noticing my mates, he pulled away and offered them a sheepish grin
"Sorry, hope you don't mind I'm taking your Harry away from the party early," he apologised.
"By all means," Draco's drawl could have cut through ice. "He's clearly of more use to you than any of us."
Tristan looked slightly taken aback, and I rolled my eyes.
"Don't mind him," I assured Tristan, running my hands up his arms to soothe him. "Draco pretends to breathe fire, but he's quite harmless."
Draco smirked as he raised his pint to his lips, sliding his gaze over to Tristan and winking at him almost good-naturedly.
"Right. Erm. Shall we?"
"We shall," I agreed, turning to wave at my table of mates, both new and old, then allowed Tristan to lead me from the pub and into the street outside.