H A R R Y J A M E S P O T T E R
In the mornings he wakes up alone in an empty bed, with sheets smelling painfully and solely of himself; swallows his coffee in silence before leaving the quiet four walls of a flat - a new one, already messy with no one to remind him to clean up the table instead of simply leaving a dirty bowl there thinking this time he'll definitely remember to put it in the sink later. He never does.
He only has his own things. No one else's; those stayed in the old suburbia flat together with Ginny when they broke up; nothing to remind him of her, and it's good, he's good, at least in the heartbreak meaning. Maybe they were never meant to be, just like that. People come and go, enter and leave, and he of all of them had learned it the hard way.
There are friends. New family, the one he chose for himself before he could make one. And one day he will, soon, maybe, but not right now. Not yet. It's hard enough dealing with the demons of the past on his own, let alone burden someone else with all his dumb little problems. Problems, what problems? The Boy Who Lived's never had any, right?
Draco enjoyed working at the nightclub. It all started when one night he went in for a drink, tired of his parents constantly putting him down, and then had one sugary cocktail too many, which led to him telling everyone who’d listen that he can dance way better than that one stripper boy they had there. As one could expect, this pissed the dancer guy off and he told Draco to go out there and show everyone what he’s got or shut his fucking mouth. And, well, Draco just couldn’t shut his fucking mouth that day. He still doesn’t remember it all in much detail, mainly because he really was drunk then, but everyone was rather impressed with his performance and he was offered a job interview the next evening; turned out they were looking to hire someone anyway. So he got the job, and here he was.
OdpowiedzUsuńHe took great pleasure in disrespecting his family’s name. Was he the first Malfoy to ever become a stripper? Or well, exotic dancer? Pole babe? Whatever one wanted to call it, really. He probably was and he treasured that thought; his parents wouldn’t be proud, but they weren’t proud anyway so what’s the difference.
Draco always liked attention and dancing only in his underwear – sometimes also in heels, but that doesn’t cover much – definitely guaranteed him lots of it. It felt freeing; all eyes on his, people, mainly men, trying to get his number when he was on a break, no responsibilities he had to take care of while he was at the club. Everyone always wanted to know more about his scar, the one on his chest, the big one, the something bad happened here one, and he kept coming up with newer, crazier ways in which he apparently got it; most of them involved battling a dangerous beast, and afterwards the beast looked even worse than him of course. It was like a totally different word, where he didn’t have to be Draco Lucius Malfoy anymore.
To be completely fair, the nightclub wasn’t just some sleazy gay bar down the road, Draco had standards. It was nice, even a little bit posh, which is probably also why he liked it so much. The music was always good, the drinks were nice, the waiters were polite, and there was actual good security always present. None of the dancers ever stripped completely, and they weren’t prostitutes either. Or at least officially they weren’t, Draco wasn’t, but he couldn’t really speak for some of his co-workers. That was just how it was, he supposed, when people really needed money. He didn’t; he did it for fun. Yes, there was something quite wrong with him.
This particular night started just like all the rest of them. Draco came to work, he talked with his friends there, flirted with the barman just enough to get a free juice (yes, actual juice, non-alcoholic, he knew he couldn’t just drink all the time) out of him, and went on to dance. The club wasn’t too busy; there were a few guys having drinks and glancing in his direction every now and then, sometimes someone came up and tried to chat him up, nothing too unusual. He was actually just getting ready to take a break after one more song cause his feet were starting to protest because of the not so comfortable high heels, when the craziest thing happened.
He made a graceful turn but immediately after that, he almost completely let go of the pole and landed on his butt because his eyes met Harry Potter’s eyes. Yes, really, Harry fucking Potter himself was standing right before him and not only that, he was staring at him. Draco almost stopped but then, after the initial shock had passed, he didn’t. He tightened the grip on the pole and kept going. He wasn’t ashamed, no, he was actually very proud of himself, his body, his everything, and if Potter just happened to be there, so be it, he could watch like everybody else. And he better like what he was seeing, goddammit. So Draco finished the song, making sure to put some extra effort into every move, and to smile at his friend from Hogwarts knowingly when he stayed and kept staring. Well, Potter didn’t look quite so bad himself, if Draco thought so himself. Interesting.
UsuńAnother dancer came to change him on the main stage so Draco went to the dancers’ backroom and threw on a black shirt and black pants, not even worrying about his messy hair, now a little bit smudged glittery eye shadow or the general sweaty appearance; he usually took care of it before going back to the club, but not this time. He realised that he was hurrying to make sure to catch Potter before he leaves, just out of curiosity, really. And he did, he found him in pretty much the same spot as before, now looking around instead of at the stage though.
“Well, well, well,” said Draco slowly but loudly, sneakily coming up to Potter from behind before he stood in front of him. “So, did you enjoy my show, Potter?” he asked, raising one eyebrow with a certain level of amusement. There was only one good answer to that question. And Draco was waiting to hear it.
Everything went pretty much exactly as Draco expected. Yes, Potter was calling him an amateur, but everything in his behaviour was telling a completely different story. He seemed distracted; didn’t really look Draco in the eye, kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other, almost looked like he was looking for a way to escape from the situation. But Draco wasn’t about to let him go so easily. After all, now he’s been offended, called not only an amateur but also “mediocre”.
OdpowiedzUsuń“Oh yeah? Is that really what you think?” he asked, looking straight at Potter, clearly enjoying those few extra inches that made him considerably taller than him. Because of that, he felt like he was in control of the situation, and it made him feel powerful. Like he meant something, even though he was just a stripper here.
Potter, on the other hand, looked quite uncomfortable, and for a moment Draco thought it’s more because he got caught being in a gay strip club than anything else, but the nervous fidgeting, the looking from side to side instead of at Draco, breathing just a little bit too heavily... it seemed very familiar. Almost as if he was... excited. And not happy about it. Not really looking to escape, but to hide. Malfoy couldn’t help but smile smugly at this realisation, just like he couldn’t help but look down at the other man’s crotch to confirm his suspicions.
It happened often here, men getting boners that is, but that specific man being the Harry Potter made it seem almost unreal in a way. Draco decided that he was proud of himself; not only did he apparently turn Potter on while he was dancing, but Potter decided to stay and talk to him. After all, it wasn’t like he was kept here by force, he had every opportunity to leave, right after Malfoy left the stage, for example, and even now. And yet, he didn’t move, not even when Draco took another step forward and was standing closer to him; a bit too close for comfort probably.
“I guess you must be really into mediocre amateurs then,” he said very slowly, not even trying to not be suggestive. “And you’ve always been a shit liar.”
And just like that, they found themselves in a quite strange situation, because Draco... well, he always fancied Potter, now he could just admit it, ever since they went to Hogwarts together, but at the same time, he despised him. Or that’s what he liked to tell himself to feel better about his clearly not reciprocated crush. But then the war happened, and suddenly he wasn’t a thirteen year old boy anymore, and he had to choose his own fate, and of course, make his parents proud. He never managed to do the last one but that was alright; he didn’t want that anymore. But this thing he had for Potter, the thing that his friends always made fun of, the thing his parents were tired of hearing about when he was still in school and very offended by being rejected by The Boy Who Lived... that thing was still there all along. He just didn’t think about it for a while, and he never knew how to act on it, never thought it might actually lead to anything. After all, Harry Potter hated him. Or did he? Well, he certainly didn’t look like he did right now but Draco couldn’t be too hopeful. Maybe the Golden Buy just didn’t get any in such a long time that everything excited him now.
“I’d never think that I ‘d see you in a place like this. Looking for some fun, Potter?” he asked with a smile, again already feeling like he knew the answer. Maybe it sounded more like a proposition than he originally intended but he wasn’t about to take anything back.
Draco thoroughly enjoyed the situation they were in. The more frustrated and offended Potter sounded, the more in control he felt. Because he, unlike Harry, wasn’t really bothered by anything that was going on. Sure, he found it surprising and unusual but since he was already a stripper and that was now a fact known to Potter too, there was not much else to say about his life that’d top that revelation. Which made everything easier, Draco could just be himself, maybe even his old, mean self, and put the stuck up Slytherin act on. He missed it and now, thanks to this exciting meeting, he felt like he could have it again. It had to be a little modified to fit the situation but still, it seemed like Potter was not about to back down from any type of confrontation, and neither were Draco. Why would he ever do that, the fun seemed to just be getting started.
OdpowiedzUsuńFor a moment, he felt absolutely stunned when he heard the proposition of taking this somewhere more private. He frowned, looking at the other man with a puzzled look on his face. He wasn’t about to complain, after all, he did have a rather obsessive crush on him throughout most of their school days... He just didn’t expect Potter to practically ask him to bang just like that. Because that was what he was suggesting, wasn’t it? Or did Harry Potter not actually realise the implications of the words coming out of his mouth? It was difficult to say since he still mostly looked annoyed and, to be honest, there was a reason why Granger was the one who held the “the brightest witch of her age” title and not Potter.
“Of course, as you wish,” said Draco slowly, still trying to figure out what exactly he was getting himself into. It was actually becoming kind of exciting. Was he about to argue with his school nemesis? Or was he about to blow him? He’d be fine with both, but he couldn’t deny that one possibility seemed better than the other. “We can go to the staff’s bathroom. Follow me,” he added, and immediately turned around and started walking.
Draco considered going to the regular club bathroom, but he knew they probably wouldn’t be alone in there at any point and, on top of that, it’d still be pretty loud. So he did what he knew a lot of the other strippers did with their friends, he took Potter to the nicer bathroom in the quieter part of this whole establishment. They had to go through backstage for that and the few people who were there definitely gave them some amused looks but Draco just smiled at them. They could think whatever they wanted.
When they went inside, the music was already very drowned out, and the fact that they were alone in the bathroom helped, too. It probably wasn’t the fanciest place for any type of conversation but it was definitely private and quiet-ish. The best they could do here, really.
“Alright, care to tell me what you’d like to talk about?” he asked, immediately turning to Potter. He was standing just a little bit too close, again, but he did it on purpose.
“I hope you’re not about to keep insisting on not liking my performance, I’m not blind, some part of you clearly loved it. And you’re welcome for that, really, you don’t look too bad yourself, Potter,” assured Draco, while not even trying to hide a grin spreading across his face. He was complimenting him, obviously, but he couldn’t help the sneaky little bit of self-importance that crept into it. He never could. “You know, you look a bit frustrated, need any help with that?” he added, pretending to actually sound concerned. But to be honest, he quite liked seeing Harry frustrated, he liked it ever since school.