Chapter 2: F2theF

"Can't see a thing but I feel the sound
Of the low and down pounding beat
Freak to the funk and then funk with me" -Kidneythieves

Harry woke up alone and cold with his gay cherry intact. He knew what a woman felt like, knew the feel of soft breasts in his hands, of the sweet perfume when he kissed their necks and of their wet warmth around him. It never disgusted him but it never really made him feel alive either, not until he developed a crush on a blond Chudley Cannons seeker and instantly converted (Ron had been pleased about that, even if the reason wasn't ideal). But he'd never known the touch of a man. What should have been the greatest night of his life, Draco Malfoy ruined effortlessly just by being there.

With a groan, he got up and went downstairs to make himself breakfast. Twelfth Grimmauld Place was coming around rather nicely. All the dark wood paneling had been repainted in a lustrous mahogany color.

His room was the first to be renovated. Teal walls, a charmingly rustic bed with a touch of contemporary. Roman shades had replaced the torn, dreary drapes. It looked like something out of an indoor design magazine. Well, he had contracted a professional.

Next had been the living room. Cream colored couches, mineral-blue sheer curtains that remained opened letting maximum sunlight in. The gloomy, dark wallpaper had been replaced with soft gray and silver trellis wallpaper. On the mahogany side tables stood yellow, modern lamps and the coffee table made of thick oak was stacked with a few books and magazines. Underneath it a plush mint-blue rug. Colorful accents gave the room some cheer.

It was starting to look like home. Not to mention that Walburga Black's portrait had been removed, finally, thanks to the very expensive services of experts. Harry didn't cover the Black family tree though. No matter if there had been some rather distasteful members of the family. It was Sirius' lineage and rather disrespectful to erase an entire family history from the home over short-sighted judgments. Harry was tired of that sort of thing. It was what started the pureblood's hatred for muggles centuries ago: grouping an entire race with the actions of a handful of evil people.

The kitchen was nearly complete. It was brighter, for one. The glass on the window had been replaced, a few potted plants stood on the sill. He kept the Victorian look but with a modern influence and brighter tones. Took down the wall between it and the dining room and divided it with a wood island instead. Sunlight from the windows in the dining room flooded the kitchen as well. Some extra counters and cabinets were added, with the additional space. And a door had been made leading to the small backyard – which still cried for maintenance.

Harry always ate a breakfast of toast and earl gray with milk sitting on a stool at the island. He chewed slowly, deep in his thoughts, unable to forget the image of Malfoy last night. Unable to register that he was attracted to him. To be fair, he told himself, the git got fit, that's undeniable.

"Harry!" Charlie's voice came in through the Floo.

"I'm in the kitchen!" he shouted back.

A moment later, Charlie walked in through the archway that replaced the double doors going into the dining from the living room. He strode over with a relaxed, well-fucked grin on his face.

Lucky bastard, Harry thought bitterly.

"Well look at this morose bastard. Don't tell me you didn't take anyone home?" Charlie grabbed a clean cup next to the sink and poured himself tea from the pot, before sitting down in front of Harry, who shrugged in response.

"Why? There must have been tons of blokes that approached you." When Harry said nothing, Charlie tutted. "Please tell me it's not Malfoy."

"I just saw the boy who tormented me in school-"

"I heard you dished out just as much,"

"I was nowhere near as vile. And let's not forget, he became a Death Eater and tortured people-"

"Forced to. Not everyone has the courage to defy an oppressor."

"That's not an excuse!"

"No, but you can't really demand strength from everyone. If everyone had it, we'd be living in a very different world. I honestly pity Malfoy. Forced to be a Death Eater far too young, forced to commit atrocities he didn't want to, to watch them. Tell me, Harry, where do you think Malfoy would be right now if he had defied the other Death Eaters? Would they have stopped? They'd have tortured and killed him too. Could he have escaped them? A sixteen-year-old boy from a rich home who never had to fend for himself? Where would he have gone? To the Order? Would you have trusted him and welcomed him if he had asked for sanctuary?"

"Yes! It's what Dumbledore would have done...what he had been about to..."

"Does Malfoy know that?"

Harry didn't say anything. Charlie continued, "In retrospect, we all can see our mistakes but when everything is happening and happening fast, especially for a child being forced to grow up quickly, sometimes you don't know what your choices are. Malfoy's not a fighter and he's not brave like you and I don't think you fully appreciate how rare those qualities are and how easily they come to you. He didn't have friends like Ron and Hermione to console him and provide perspective. From what you and Ron always told me, he had bodyguards at school. He teased you while hiding behind them. A brainwashed pureblood child who's never had to do anything for himself in his life with no friends, betrayed by parents who were weak and dragged him into their sordid mess, a world of beliefs crashing down around him, alone and surrounded by frightening killers that wouldn't blink an eye before they Crucio you into madness. Did you really expect him to stand in the midst of all that and, what? Give Voldemort the middle finger? Surely not point his wand at any of them. He'd be dead. And the Death Eaters would have continued to do what they do without him as if he'd never been there at all. Would anyone had known how he died, or even cared?"

Harry stayed silent for a long time, his chest constricting with past wounds, some not fully healed. He understood all that. After all, he spoke for Malfoy at his trial because he understood. That was one thing but to be attracted to the git was a whole other issue. "I would have helped him," he said finally.

"Except, you didn't let him know that. It was a choice he didn't know he had." After a short pause, he continued, "Don't tell me you fancy him and are beating yourself up about it?" When Harry didn't answer, Charlie sighed. "I won't lie, the boy has grown into one blasted fine man, but that doesn't mean you have feelings for him all of a sudden. Listen, you are just beginning to explore this side of you that's been locked away for so long. And believe me, I've been there. You meet the first bloke that makes your heart stop, makes you feel alive and you start to get muddled. It's called lust and it's easy to mistake it for a deeper emotion, but it's a simpler thing than you realize. Let's go back tonight."

"What?"

"Back to Avalon. Let's go back. We'll get you a nice fellow to cure that hunger and you'll see it's not as bad as all that. And if Malfoy is such a concern for you, the dancers take breaks. When he does so, go up to him and talk. Ask him what you're dying to ask him."

Harry looked down at his tea, ruminating all the possible outcomes. "Tonight," he muttered.

"Yes, tonight. Tomorrow's Sunday, you'll be fine."

Harry wasn't going to deny the ugly truth about himself. He was nervous. So much that he tried on most of his clothes and threw them off in exasperation. They now littered the floor and bed of his room.

None of them will do, he thought. He donned the first wrinkly shirt he picked up, a pair of jeans, Flooed to the Three Broomsticks from where he exited to muggle London and took a cab to the only shopping district in the city of which he knew. No sooner did he walk down the mouth of Sloane Street, then people turned to look at him with distaste.

Harry frowned and looked down at himself. If he was honest, he did look a bit like a bum. And that was his problem – he simply didn't have an eye for fashion and all his clothes were mediocre at best. When he spotted a shop for men's clothes that displayed articles more to his taste, he entered, announced by an electronic bell. A slender man in a pair of fashionable eyeglasses, perfect hair, and eyeliner hurried jauntily over to him. He took one look at Harry and asked, "May I help you," in a tone that clearly wanted to add "find your way to the thrift store."

Well, Harry knew one thing that the muggle and wizarding world had in common. He took a thick stack of rolled muggle bills clipped together along with a platinum card. Money Talked. Sure enough, the man's eyes widened and his whole demeanor changed, at once gracing Harry with a big smile.

"Yes, you can," Harry answered.

It took hours but Jimmy, the store clerk, finally understood what Harry wanted without saying it out loud: to make jaws drop at a gay nightclub. Several outfits later, Harry came out with a pair of ass-hugging, low-riding, black silk slacks and a tight, black silk, button up, sleeveless shirt with a stiff collar. Harry liked it. Classy but sexy, showing off everything he had to offer, including his muscular, tanned arms. Even Jimmy checked him out, smiling rather proud of himself.

"Baby, call me the fairy godmother," Jimmy said. He convinced Harry to purchase some accessories: a belt, a silver Rolex, and some stud earrings.

"I..don't have my ears pierced."

"Honey, you're not the only man that comes in here that's never worn earrings." Jimmy went behind the counter and produced a small, white ear piercer, a bottle of alcohol and Q-tips. "Our shop is fully prepared to make princes out of frogs. Trust me, you'll be irresistible!"

"Uh, will it hurt?"

"No."

Turned out it did, but only a little and it was over before it started. Harry rubbed his earlobes with a cotton as Jimmy removed a pair of diamond studs. Very expensive diamond studs. He had his inheritance but he rarely needed it. Until now. Considering he didn't own anything of value, he told himself it was fine to treat himself this one time. And he really wanted to impress...gay men. They were very critical creatures. Not just Malfoy in particular, though if he did find Harry attractive Harry wouldn't mind it at all.

"One other thing, sweetie," said Jimmy, looking sheepishly critical. "Those glasses have got to go."

"Oh," Harry mumbled, removing them and putting them in the bag with his old clothes. "I don't really need them. Had my sight corrected for work but I feel naked without them."

"Please, do you think I need these," Jimmy answered pointing at his own pair. He took him to the back where the accessories were and there was a pair of stands with sunglasses and eyeglasses. He said, "They're just for looks. Here! These are perfect for you. Those beautiful green eyes will pop!" Jimmy took a pair of thin, black opaque rectangular frames. "Not flashy but demands attention, just like you." He placed them over Harry's face and gasped with a hand to his chest. "I am a genius..."

Harry chuckled coyly and said, "Thank you."

"Oh, you're just too cute when you smile! Do it more often. Now let me ring you up."

Harry walked out of that store leaving behind a very happy Jimmy. His next stop was a hair salon. There wasn't one far off. This time, no one looked at him like he didn't belong. In fact, everyone turned heads and, for once, Harry was the subject of admiring gazes. He never realized it felt so good to be seen as attractive. The lady at the front register of the nearby hair salon blushed as he approached her. He walked with a bit more confidence in his step.

Beaming at him, the woman said,"Welcome! Do you have an appointment?"

His confidence deteriorated a little. "Um...no? Do I need one before coming in?"

"Oh that's fine, one of our hairdressers is open. Just take a seat."

The bloody hair salon took way longer than he thought it would, but he wasn't going to lie, he came out a few hours later looking like a Hollywood star. Somehow the hairdresser had turned his rebellious strands of disheveled hair into a just-got-exquisitely-fucked messy undercut.

Harry went home to leave the bag, then apparated at the end of an alley a few blocks from Avalon. Men, whether in a couple or not, did double takes as he walked past. Even some of the lesbians whistled and catcalled playfully – one yelled something about a strap-on which Harry ignored. When he finally reached the brick building, he spotted Charlie already there holding their place in the queue.

Charlie looked at him up and down, eyebrows shooting up and grinning widely. "Merlin's hairy balls, Harry! Dressed to impress, I see!"

Harry cleared his throat and scratched his itchy earlobe in embarrassment. Several of the men in line whistled and one tried to get his number. Charlie wrapped an arm around him and cried over his shoulder, "He's with me!" But then he leaned in and whispered, "Malfoy won't know what hit him!"

"I didn't do this for Mafloy!"

"Heh. Sure, brother."

Turned out they didn't need to wait long. One of the bouncers beckoned them over and let them in. Harry frowned, confused. "They just let us skip?"

Charlie laughed and spoke over the thumpathump that reverberated down the narrow hallway. "Now you know the power of youth and beauty!"

"That's not fair!"

"No, it's business! Bait and hook! A club filled with the best-looking people gets them notoriety and more people wanting to come!"

As soon as they entered the club room, eyes gravitated towards them. Harry, the tall, dark, mysterious stranger, and Charlie with his wild biker look made jaws drop as they walked by. They headed for the bar and while Charlie ordered for them, flirting with the smirking bartender, Harry searched the room for the familiar mop of moon-beam pale hair.

There was Mafloy, in the same platform tube, dancing suavely to a smooth, low, sensual beat. This time, the dancers were nearly naked except for red thigh-high boots and thongs, and on their heads, they wore bands with devil horns. All but my Malfoy – his thong was white, and unlike the others who were shirtless, he wore a white, sheer top that dropped from around his neck and crisscrossed down the upper part of his chest, still exposing the bottom part and his nipples. A pair of fluffy white wings hung from his back and a gold circlet donned his head over pale waves that shimmered under the dancing lights. He gyrated slowly, sexually, his eyes half closed and barely the trace of a smirk on his lips. His hands were pressed against the glass as he dropped his hips down and slithered back up like a snake. None of the other dancers had half of the group of men that gathered beneath Malfoy to worship him.

He really does look divine, Harry thought, his heart pounding erratically as he watched, and trying with all his might to associate the angel before his eyes with the devil from his past.

Charlie handed him a cocktail. Harry didn't know what it was, he didn't care. He had eyes only for Mafloy. "Lance – that's the bartender – said he's their Ace. Brings in a lot of returning patrons who come here just to watch him."

"I see that," Harry replied. His mouth felt dry so he took a large gulp of his drink.

"Lance said that he takes his break in half an hour. What will you do until then?"

"Watch."

Charlie looked at him strangely. "You sure you don't want to cruise a little? See if someone else catches your eye? There are plenty of hotties here tonight."

"I don't want to be distracted or I might miss him."

"Blimey, did you fall hard or what?"

Harry turned to him a little vexed. "You expect me to ignore him and flirt with some other bloke when I just discovered Draco-sodding-Malfoy dancing practically naked at a gay muggle club after he's been missing for three years?"

With a wry look, Charlie asked, "Did you even think about him all those years?"

Harry was taken aback. "Well...no, but-"

"He disappeared but you barely noticed as you went about your own life. Now you're interested and wondering, and I can't help but suspect it's your dick that's doing all the wondering."

Pursing his lips in irritation, Harry remained silent, not knowing how to answer for a moment, before he shrugged. "So what of it?"

"Nothing," Charlie said. "But listen, if you want Malfoy, tread with care. Don't get all raveled up."

"I'm not."

"Will you at least dance with me until Malfoy steps off? We've got hungry eyes on us from all directions. I feel like one of them is going to pounce any minute."

Laughing heartily, Harry took him by the hand and headed for the dance floor. They didn't stray too far and he kept an eye out for Malfoy. Soon another song came up, one with a harder but equally sensual beat. Men around them hooted and laughed, some were kissing and touching. Hands sometimes slid across Harry and Charlie as studs, twinks, bears and everything in between walked by with flirty gazes and winks. A few of them would join them in dancing, and sometimes one of them would be caught and twirled away by another man, only for another to take his place. Harry almost lost himself in the sexually charged, masculine energy around him, but then he caught Malfoy open the glass door and walked down the steps of the platform.

Several of the men around Malfoy tried to chat him up, touch him, but he spurned them all and made a beeline towards the bar. He was exceptionally graceful in heels, Harry noted, and practically flew in his direction, not even sparing a glance at the disappointed expressions of the young men he and Charlie had been dancing with.

When he finally reached the bar, he almost feared his voice would crack or that he would freeze up. His heart was like a caged wild beast in his chest. Taking a deep breath, he dredged up some confidence, leaned in towards the blond angel's unsuspecting ear, and yelled his name to be heard above the music.

Malfoy twisted on his heels with a questioning expression which quickly morphed into shock when he recognized Harry. His silver eyes checked him out from top to bottom, eyebrows raised, just as Charlie had. Though Harry had grown several more centimeters thanks to Auror training, Mrs. Weasley's cooking, and basketball, Malfoy was nearly as tall without the two-inch heels. Harry had to crane his neck a little to meet his eyes.

"Potter!?"

"Yeah." Great, I've been waiting since last night to talk to him and that's all I manage to say, he thought self-disparagingly.

Malfoy opened and closed his mouth as if he wanted to say several things, none of which he thought was good enough to speak out loud. Apparently, he decided on a simple, "What are you doing here?"

Harry turned to point at Charlie who was having the time of his life between two young studs. "He's helping me come out. We thought a muggle club would be easy to break me in. No one recognizes me here."

Malfoy nodded trepidatiously as if he dared not ignore the elephant in the room but he didn't want to acknowledge it either. "I didn't know you were gay," he said cautiously.

"Same I say about you. Where have you been all these years?" There I said, thought Harry.

Malfoy snapped his head away, licking his lips. After a moment, the bartender asked him, "Are you okay, Dray?"

Draco shook his head and was about to walk off when Harry grabbed his arm – trying not to look down at his exposed ass. There were more pressing matters but that outfit was profoundly distracting. "Malfoy, please, wait! I just want to talk!"

At that Draco slew around and glared angrily. "Talk about what, Potter? My life isn't any of your concern!"

Harry nodded, trying another approach. "You're right. It's not. I'm sorry. Look," he fumbled for the right words and in frustration, ran his fingers through his hair. Draco glanced up at the movement and his Adam's apple bobbed. "Will you have a drink with me?"

Malfoy's eyes widened. "A-are you...picking me up?"

"I'm asking you to have a drink with me," Harry answered dryly.

"You – Harry Potter – are picking me – Draco Malfoy – up?"

"Bloody hell, I'm asking you to drink with me! Drink! Why do you always twist everything around!?"

"It sounds like you're picking me up."

"Fuck alright! I'm picking you up! I couldn't stop thinking about you since last night and I've been working up the courage all day to talk to you and even used some of my parent's inheritance to buy these stupid bloody diamonds on my ears because Jimmy said I would look irresistible!"

Draco goggled at him, mouth agape for a second before he threw his head back in laughter. Which made the heat in Harry's face a whole lot worse. He knew he was beet-red, but he refused to show he was embarrassed. Men like Malfoy walked all over those who showed weakness. Confidence was the key ingredient to getting Malfoy where he wanted him.

Summoning up every drop of Gryffindor courage and aggression, he placed a firm hand on the small of Malfoy's back and steered him back towards the bar. "One drink," he said. "Before you go back to...uh-work."

Malfoy responded with a mischievous smirk and a flirty, "Very well then. Just one drink, Potter."

Confidence, Harry reminded himself. I need to take control. If Malfoy has it, he'll make a mess of me. "Two apple martinis," he ordered. When Malfoy raised an eyebrow at him, he said with a shrug, "They're fucking good and every man knows it."

This made Malfoy look at him as if he were seeing a different Harry Potter than he remembered – which wasn't far off – then he chuckled and shook his head. Harry couldn't help but slide his gaze down Malfoy's arched back as the blond leaned on the counter. His eyes traveled down to the white, shimmery fabric of the thong, admired how it dipped and disappeared between Malfoy's pair of perfectly round mounds which, Harry noticed from up close, were spattered in glitter.

"Are you checking out my ass, Potter?"

"Yes." Confidence. Don't let him get the upper hand.

Malfoy smirked and arched a little more, sticking out his ass further into view. He knew how to play the game well. Harry wasn't the only one with his eyes on Malfoy. The other men at the bar looked ravenously over their way. One exceptionally tall stud walked up and leered down at Malfoy. Harry straightened up and pulled Malfoy to him while glaring down at the stud. "Fuck off," he growled coldly. It was the same voice he used when interrogating dark wizards. Sensing the dangerous aura, the stud flinched and walked away.

This seemed to amuse the devil in sheep's skin, the object of Harry's desire. Malfoy grinned up at him. "You're quite the possessive one. I would never have guessed," he taunted cheekily, before grabbing his martini once it was settled in front of him.

Harry ignored this. "I won't ask you what you're doing here," he said. "But at least tell me you want to be here."

Malfoy sneered at him, and it was so very much like the old Malfoy, even though his face wasn't as narrow, that it brought Harry down from his lust-filled cloud to earth. It struck him that he wanted more than to just take the objectified Malfoy to bed. He wanted to know more about the Malfoy of his past. Wanted to invest time talking rather than fucking, perhaps more so.

But Malfoy didn't. He snapped coldly, "And what's it to you?"

"I just...after everything we've been through-"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I just want to know you're okay."

"I'm fine." Malfoy was closing up.

Harry sighed and looked down at his watch. Malfoy side-glanced at the Rolex and snorted. Harry ignored that and, reaching out his hand, asked, "Have time for one dance?"

After a short pause in which Malfoy looked to contemplate whether that was a good idea, he finally nodded, though not looking too sure about his decision.

Confidence. Take the lead or he'll slip away, Harry told himself. Grabbing Malfoy's hand firmly, he led him towards the dance floor.

Malfoy said, "For the record, I'm doing this out of the kindness of my heart."

"Oh yeah?"

"Why would I want to dance on my break, Potter?"

"...Oh."

Even though it was a high paced song, Harry brought his arms around Malfoy's waist, who placed his palms on his shoulders. They started to bounce to the beat and after a few minutes, he caught Malfoy's unguarded smile before the blond realized what he was doing and dropped it for a false smirk. When the song ended, Malfoy pulled away. Harry already started to miss the feel of his body against his.

"I've got to get back," Draco said, then looked at Harry in the eye. "Potter."

"What?"

"I don't know what you're playing at. But don't come back here."

A/N If you enjoy my stories, drop me a little TLC ;)