"Harry!"
Harry stopped walking down the aisle of the auditorium and turned back to see Draco beaconing him from the stage with a crooked finger. Harry looked around in confusion. Rehearsal had finally ended for the day after overrunning a couple of hours. But it had been worth it. The change in Neville was noticeable and moral was up for the entire cast and crew.
Harry had to say he'd been looking forward to grabbing an Indian takeaway on the way home and a pack of beer so he could crash on the couch. He was knackered. But Draco had reappeared and now he was calling Harry back.
So of course Harry went.
Maybe Draco had been watching from the wings? Harry had missed him by his side that afternoon, but he'd also acknowledged some time apart was probably for the best. His body got all tingly just thinking about what had happened earlier in the rehearsal room.
By the time Harry reached the stage, Draco had sat himself on the edge, dangling his feet off the side. He was grinning at Harry as several of the other cast members chatted excitedly behind him. Most of the crew, including Lockhart and Trelawny, had either already left the building or had made themselves scarce working in their own departments.
"What's up?" Harry asked as he stopped in front of Draco. He hoped he sounded casual, even though his heart was already banging in his chest. Traitorous thing.
Draco waggled his eyebrows at him. "We're going out for a drink," he said, jerking his thumb behind him to indicate the other dancers. "Join us."
Harry's heart went from beating fast to not at all, or so it felt. "Oh, no," he stammered. "I couldn't – I mean, I don't want to intrude."
Draco frowned. "Why on Earth would you be intruding?"
Harry could feel himself starting to blush. "Because you're all dancers," he managed to say without tripping over his words too much.
Draco laughed. "Oh, don't be daft, that doesn't matter," he said and winked at Harry. "It's an open invitation, anyway. If we see any more of the crew on our way out, they'd be more than welcome to come."
Harry glanced at the gaggle of dancers. Zabini was among them, but so was Neville and Luna as well as a guy called Terry Boot that Harry quite liked. Pansy, one of the women, saw him looking and crouched down behind Draco, draping her arms over his shoulders. She smiled at Harry like a cat who'd cornered a mouse.
"Hello, sweetie," she purred. "Are you going to come out and play?"
"Well, um," Harry said and laughed. "Haven't you guys got rehearsals tomorrow?"
He knew fun well they did, because he set the schedules. But he felt out of his depth and wanted to stall for time. Did he really feel able to spend time with Draco socially, outside the theatre? That could be a disaster if he wasn't careful.
Neither Draco nor Pansy called him out for being a spoil sport though. Pansy just chuckled, kissed Draco's cheek, and stood to take Parvati Patil by the hand to discuss what they were wearing. Leaving Harry with Draco.
"Come on, now, Harry," Draco said with a smirk. "Live a little. I promise we'll get you home in time for bed."
Shivers fluttered over Harry's whole body. He hoped Draco didn't notice. God damn it. Why did the man have to be such a flirt?
But was Harry really going to pass up this chance? What was his other option? Go home alone and watch the telly?
"Sure," he blurted before he could change his mind. "I could come out for one."
A slow, lazy smile crept over Draco's face. "Excellent," he said.
Harry had imagined they might go home and change. But it was already close to eight o'clock and no one seemed interested in wasting time to make a stop for fresh clothes. Harry supposed it was easy when you were so fit and good looking. You could throw some eyeliner on and go partying in work-out gear and not feel self-conscious.
He himself would have appreciated a shower and a nicer shirt. But he found himself bundled into his coat and shepherded out the door between Draco and Pansy, Neville and Luna chatting happily behind them as they stepped out into the cold evening air. At least those two seemed to be getting along well.
Harry wasn't sure what to make of Pansy. But she and Draco talked to each other with Harry between them as they walked down the street. They were discussing a production they'd worked on previously and one of the former cast members who had apparently been sleeping with three different people at once and caused quite the scene the other night.
Harry didn't know who they were talking about, but Draco kept making eye contact with him as they gossiped, making Harry feel involved. It was kind of nice.
Harry was expecting to go to a pub. But Draco steered them into an ally Harry might have missed entirely if he'd been walking alone. "The Leaky Cauldron?" he asked dubiously, reading the sign as Draco pulled him into a dark bar with tinted windows.
"Trust me," Draco said with a wink.
Almost immediately, Harry pegged this small club as being both LGBT and slightly on the kinky side. It was subtle, unlike the bars along Great Compton Street in Soho. There weren't rainbows everywhere. But it had a boudoir sort of feel with black leather seats and red lighting, gilded mirrors and a couple of chandeliers hanging from the walls and ceiling. Framed black-and-white photos of same-sex couples in BDSM gear were positioned here and there, in such a way you had to be paying attention to spot them.
The music was thumping in a remix of a popular song Harry couldn't immediately identify. But several of the cast were already drifting to the dance floor, their arms raised to the roof and their heads dropped back, loosing themselves in the beat.
"Drink?"
Harry tried not to jump too much as he snapped his head to see Draco standing at his shoulder. He'd spoken into Harry's ear, and now their faces were awfully close together.
"Uh, yeah. Thanks," Harry stammered. He had a feeling he'd need a bit of Dutch courage. This was a whole different level compared to chilling at the local pub.
This was the kind of place people came with the intention of getting fucked.
Wiping the condensation off his glasses, Harry followed Draco to the bustling bar counter. The place wasn't huge but it was pretty full considering it was a Wednesday night. Draco held his hand back, reaching for Harry behind him. Without thinking too much into it, Harry took it.
He kept behind him while Draco angled his way to the bar, leaning over to give his order to the topless barman in jeans and a black leather collar. Harry's hand felt like it was burning as it clung to Draco's, but it a good way. A way that made his crotch tingle for the second time today.
"Here," Draco shouted over the music, grabbing Harry's attention. He handed him a clear shot. "On three," Draco instructed, waggling his eyebrows.
Harry opened his mouth to ask what it was. But then he decided he didn't care. The time for being shy and cautious was done. He was ready to start being a bit more adventurous.
He and Draco looked into each other's eyes as he counted them down from three and they knocked back the shot. Sambuca. It burned Harry's throat and he instinctively flinched, gipping Draco's hand hard. Draco laughed and placed his glass down, then plucked Harry's from his hand as Harry coughed and blinked tears from his eyes. Their fingers brushed, reminding Harry to ease his death-grip on Draco's other hand.
"There you go," Draco said, passing Harry a beer bottle. Then he held up one of his own to clink together. "Cheers."
"Cheers," Harry said back, taking a drink to wash away the aniseed that was already curling in his stomach. But his head felt slightly floaty already and he smiled at Draco. "I suppose you want to dance," Harry said, flicking his eyes to the floor where most of the rest of the people they'd come in with were grinding and spinning around.
But Draco shook his head. "I should probably rest my foot for a bit," he said. It was only then Harry realised he hadn't brought his crutches out with him. "Why don't we sit?"
Draco jutted his chin over the heads of the throng at the bar to a dark corner where Neville, Luna and Terry had managed to snag a table. Harry was happier to chill with some of the quieter members of the party, he had to admit. He wasn't sure he could keep up with the wild ones.
But that meant Draco was willing to sit at the 'boring' table. With Harry. Harry allowed him to lead him back through the crowd while biting his lip. Did that mean something? Or was Draco really just resting his injured foot?
"Hey, guys!" Neville cried out cheerfully. Harry wondered if he was hyped that someone as popular as Draco had come to sit with him and the others. It was one thing for Draco to work with him one-on-one; but to acknowledge him in public was pretty awesome.
Harry's heart swelled. As much as Draco liked to come across as too cool for school, he was actually pretty kind and thoughtful.
"Neville," Draco said as he and Harry draped their coats over the backs of two free seats. Draco sat down on one of the chairs. "Nice work today," he said as he clinked bottles with Neville. Harry tried not to feel disappointed that they had let go of each other's hands as he sat down on another chair. But then Draco's hand rested on his knee, like it was a perfectly normal thing to do.
Harry tried to concentrate as Draco talked to the others about how the show was going. They were hashing out one of the numbers Neville had been understudying for Draco today, discussing the merits of doing the choreography one way or another. Harry nodded and followed along with the terminology as best he could. But his whole mind and body was pretty much concerned with the hand on his knee.
To him it said only one thing: This man is mine. Hands off.
But they hadn't discussed anything like that. They hadn't even kissed or asked each other out. Well...Harry supposed Draco had asked him here. But that was with everyone else. It wasn't a date. Was it?
He shifted his body weight so he was slightly angled to Draco and took another sip of beer to fortify himself. Then he rested his hand on top of Draco's.
Draco immediately looked over at him and smiled, then went back to listening to Luna talk excitedly about the production she was going to be working on after this one. Harry's heart sped up. Draco looped one of his fingers around Harry's, inviting him to keep his hand where it was.
Fuck. Fuck. Was Draco making a move? Was that what Harry wanted?
Oh, who was he trying to fool? Of course it was. Even if it was just a onetime thing, Harry was aching for Draco.
Draco suddenly jerked his head and looked up. The song had just changed. "Oh my god," Draco breathed excitedly. "I love this song. Where's Pansy? Pansy!"
He looked out to the dance floor where Pansy was eagerly beaconing Draco to her. Draco let go of Harry's hand and knee and stood.
"Come dance!" he said giddily to Harry.
"Oh, no," Harry said before he could even think. But this was Draco's thing with his friends. Harry couldn't dance like them and this song obviously held special meaning for Draco.
Really though, Harry didn't think he was worthy to get up there with Draco. It was one thing to hold hands in the dark. It was another thing entirely to act like they were equals. Draco was meant for the spotlight. Harry was fine hanging in the shadows.
"Go have fun," Harry insisted, putting on a smile.
Draco smiled back and squeezed his shoulder. "Okay," he said, leaving Harry behind.
It was fine, he told himself as he turned his back to the dance floor. Draco would be back to rest his foot soon enough. In the meantime, Harry was really enjoying Neville, Luna and Terry's chat. They were fun and absorbed him back into their conversation easily.
The minutes ticked by and the song changed again. But Harry didn't look over his shoulder. He didn't need to. Draco was off having fun and that made Harry happy. Gradually, he stopped thinking of Draco and became engrossed in a lively conversation about politics.
Until Neville looked over Harry's shoulder to the dance floor and his face dropped.
Harry wasn't able to stop himself snapping his attention over his shoulder, too. What he saw made his heart plummet into his trainers.
Draco was still dancing with Pansy, a new beer in his hand. But Zabini's chest was pressed up to his back, his hands on Draco's hips, one sliding under his T-shirt to touch his bare stomach. As Harry watched, Draco turned in Zabini's arms to face him, the two of them moving in time to the music.
A wave of nausea rolled over Harry as he snapped his head back around to the table. He was a fucking idiot.
Draco didn't do anything unless it was of benefit to him. He'd been nice to Harry to make the show run smoothly. Just like he'd warned Zabini away from Harry's bed.
All those moves, all the flirting. Had Draco been working on his own bet? Had he challenged himself to fuck Harry just like Zabini had? Were they in on this together?
Or had Draco just been toying with Harry for a laugh, when the truth is he was into Zabini all along? They had far more in common than Harry and Draco had, after all.
Either way, Harry felt stupid and used. He stood and grabbed his coat. "Sorry, guys," he said as the other three blinked at him in surprise. "I'm not feeling great. I'm going to head home."
"Are you all right, Harry?" Neville asked in concern.
"Do you need someone to go with you?" Luna asked.
Harry shook his head. "No, it's okay. I'm fine. I'm just going to head to bed."
"Take care, mate," Terry said with a frown.
Harry nodded and turned away before his face betrayed him. He felt like he'd been kicked in the gut.
Hedidn't look at the dance floor as he made his way across the bar. He justpushed through the crowd, keeping his eyes on the floor. When he rubbed them,he told himself if was just the stinging night air after being in the hot clubmaking them water.