One Night Out On Good Behaviour.
I was in a gay club trying to cheer up my mate who had broken up with his boyfriend of the moment. He was dancing with some guy. A fanfiction idea popped into my head. What can I say, other than 'enjoy'?
By skinnyrita
After reassurances that it wasn't just another gay night, that no, it was everyone's night and that no one would be after him apart from Hermione, they finally got Ron into the club, which was the only club of proper note around the Hogsmeade area. It had taken long enough to persuade the teachers that Harry could have one night unsupervised outside the castle, after a month of being cooped up and watching other seventh years going out on a Friday or Saturday night, nothing was going to hold Harry back. He glanced back and grinned at Ron before securing his mask firmly in place.
It was the masked night that had swung it on letting Harry cutting loose tonight. The idea was that no one would know who he was, he wouldn't take the mask off, and blend in with all the other masked characters in the dark. He left Ron and Hermione by the bar and sashayed into the mass already heaving on the dance floor. There were only a couple of unmasked people. He saw no one he recognised. Revelling in the freedom of being completely incognito, he found the beat and let all the trapped emotions boil up into all the hip-swaying, foot-stamping, fist-punching, arms-flailing, head-jutting dancing that comes with total devotion to the bass. Soon other people started dancing with him. He moved between them, swapping partners sporadically with everyone else. His eyes cast about, slightly impeded by the narrow slits of the striking carnival mask that obscured his face. Strobe lighting and showers of confetti were frequently blasting the club, along with blue mixer lights darting between the dancers. Real fairies were flitting over the bar to illuminate the drinkers, and magical, non-fading glow-sticks were pulsing on the wrists of several of the people near him. It was a fantastic, sweaty night and he couldn't have asked for a better one.
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A male body caught Harry's eye while he was stepping faster, caught in a sort of dance-off with a girl next to him. The pale torso was illuminated greens and blues under the changing lights, running into what looked to be dark wash skinny jeans. He tried to dance closer, but soon lost the other man in the crowd. He had reached the edge of the dance floor again and quickly found Ron and Hermione dancing together.
"I'm going to get a drink, do you want one?"
"What?"
"I – am – getting – a – drink – do – you – want – one?"
"Oh yeah, thanks Harry!" He ordered some firewhiskies.
"You having fun?"
"Yeah this is so great, thanks guys. You okay over here?"
"We're good, go on and enjoy yourself!" Hermione bellowed into his ear, rendering him temporarily deaf, so that when he returned to the bar to pause for a second with his drink, he didn't hear what the man in the gold mask was saying to him.
"What? Sorry?"
The other man leaned in closer to his ear. Harry bit his lip under his mask. It was the man he had seen in the crowd.
"Want to dance?"
Harry nodded, raising his mask a fraction to down his drink. He felt, rather than saw the other man focus on his mouth. The attention struck him hard, making him remember just how long it had been since he had been out of school and free for the night. Pushing away from the bar stool, he let the other man lead him back into the middle of the dance floor to where various types of couples were dancing away from the larger groups. His hands quickly found the snaking hips of his dance partner.
The writhing, sweaty mass was growing, pushing them closer together or risk being stepped on. As he became bolder, Harry let his hands caress the sides of his partner, who responded in kind, swiftly undoing the rest of the buttons on Harry's shirt, revealing the swirl of hair encircling his navel which ran into a trickle that disappeared into his jeans, hands slipping under the back of the shirt to stroke his back as they swayed hip to hip, shuffling their shoulders to the rhythm of the music.
"Come on lover, let's do shots." Harry let himself be led to the corner bar. Firewhiskies were bought and lined up on the counter. He noticed that the shirtless stranger had a lot of money on him and seemed puzzled when he offered to chip in (an offer quickly waved away). He raised his mask a little to down the shots, feeling giddy when the stranger did the same. Harry wasn't the type to eroticise parts of the body, but only being able to see the stranger's lips as they swallowed the red-amber liquid was strangely arousing.
"Who are you?" he shouted into the other's ear. Secrecy be damned, if he was only going to be allowed out once in a purple moon, he might as well be allowed to enjoy it. The stranger seemed hesitant to remove his own mask.
"In here," he gestured to the men's toilets.
Once they were in the stall, Harry was admittedly letting himself get a little carried away from his generally demure self. The man pushed his mask up again just enough to allow their mouths to meet. It was like nothing Harry had ever experienced, frantic and breathy, as if a huge culmination of years and years of sexual tension, hands running over his torso, skimming his nipples, feeling himself starting shamelessly to respond, his shirt getting trampled without care –
"Who are you?" he repeated. Finally the stranger relented; head tilting up as and elegant hand ripped the golden visage from his true face.
The world stopped turning.
Harry froze, gaze fixated on those of the expectant eyes before him. He backed out of the embrace and hit the wall of the tiny cell, hard.
"Malfoy," his lips shaped the word, but who knew if any sound escaped.
His own mask was manhandled off impatiently.
Malfoy stared at him, dismay but not disgust mirroring his own expression. The blonde's lips dispelling one word: shit.
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"Harry?" Harry's head snapped round at the sound of his name outside the stall. "Harry are you in here?"
Malfoy's hand slapped over his mouth. He glanced back at his blond assailant, who mouthed 'don't,' looking stricken. Gently, he removed the hand, glancing at the door and back to the body next to him, weighing options. His tongue flicked behind his teeth. Where was this going to lead?
"Ron?" he called out.
"Harry?"
"Yeah."
"We're gunna go mate, Hermione's getting tired. You coming?"
"I'll stay 'til the end, okay? I've got my wand," he added, still looking steadily at Malfoy, who rolled his eyes and nodded, apparently relieved.
"You sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine," said Harry firmly, "just drank too much. You go on."
They stood, stock still, silent, waiting at least a minute for absolute certainty that Ron would have left the bathroom.
If there were a definition of the awkward moment, this would be it. He stood so close to his school nemesis, in such a confined space, trying not to breathe so heavily, not to look over his body again, not to look at the forbidden lips he'd just been kissing. His chest was tight. A spark of magic crackled down his arm and up the other boy's wrist. Malfoy looked down at it, his tongue flicking over his lips as Harry's gaze trained in on them once more.
"Oh fuck it."
Harry slammed Malfoy back into the opposite wall, the contact making his mouth gasp open to allow him entry again. They kissed urgently, breathing in heavy pants, Harry securing the other boy with his hips as he licked a path up over the sweat-salty Adam's apple and back to that mouth again. Malfoy dropped his head to bite gently on his shoulder as he worked his legs further into Harry's, increasing their close proximity, who moaned gutturally in the back of his throat, dropping his gaze to the fly of Malfoy's jeans as his fingers nimbly worked over fastenings. Malfoy threw his head back, eyes shut. Harry watched him intently, throat dry, as he moved his fingers experimentally. Watching Malfoy's lips make the motions for 'oh God'.
Harry took the opportunity to suck and nip the side of the other boy's neck. A million different voices seemed to be screaming at him that this was Malfoy, that he should not be enjoying this, that he should not want this. All he could think back was that oh God, this felt incredible, Malfoy's body, he wanted to touch all of it at once, and oh Jesus H, Malfoy's firm hand had just encircled his own hardness and it was the most incredible feeling he'd ever had.
They moved together, gazes locked, desperately trying to keep quiet. Harry registered the shudder of Malfoy's body. He was close. They finished together, gasping into each other's mouths, trying not to draw attention to themselves. Malfoy broke the kiss, trembling, resting his forehead on Harry's shoulder. Harry braced them both on the closed stall door, hands sticky.
"Fucking brilliant," said Malfoy, sounding surprised.
Harry laughed breathlessly. Yes, it had been rather fantastic. He tried to gather his mind back together. Shit. This could be bad. This was in fact, already, very very bad. Here he was alone, sexing up his archrival, in a dark club nowhere near any friends, and he had revealed his identity, the one thing he was ordered Not To Do. He opened and closed his mouth, but could find no way of sorting the situation he'd got himself into. He settled instead for shrugging Malfoy off his shoulder and zipping himself up.
A banging on the door made them both jump, practically into each other.
"Anyone in there? We've got surveillance. Not in this club thank you. I'd thank you to come out now, gents."
"Bollocks," Malfoy declared, poshly, buttoning his own jeans efficiently and reaching for his mask. Harry gathered his shirt up and shrugged it on quickly, reaching for his own mask, which was resting on the cistern. He shoved it over his face. He could see it now: Boy Who Lived Caught With Pants Down In Tryst With Malfoy Heir. Just before he could pull the door bolt back, Malfoy pushed his mask up again and captured his mouth, quickly but strangely passionately. Both checked their masks were firmly in place before emerging.
They were firmly escorted from the emptying club.
The bouncer who had removed them was not friendly. "Let's see what we've got under here then," he was saying. Harry backed away. He wasn't going to remove his mask for anyone; he'd already been reckless, stupid, and all in the name of having a good time.
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A hand grasping his startled him out of slow motion.
"Run, idiot!" shouted Malfoy, pulling him along with him until they lost sight of the bouncer in one of the side streets. They crouched in a back doorway. "He's gone," said Malfoy, peering out at the alleyway. He pulled his mask off and dropped it carelessly on the ground. "I take it you're not meant to be seen either. Let me guess, you haven't been out since four weeks last Tuesday."
Harry hesitated, and then removed his own mask. Malfoy was half leaning, half sitting on a crate propped against the opposite wall. There was a good two or three feet between them now. "How do you know that?"
"Because we're doing the same sentence, Potter. Who knows when we'll get out on good behaviour again?" he launched himself back off the crate and stalked towards Harry again, looking scarily predatory. "I'm going to be blunt, Potter. I don't like you."
"Ditto."
"Don't interrupt. I don't like you. But there's no sense in denying that what just happened. Fuck. That was good. And it's only just gone two. There's plenty of night left. Do you understand what I am trying to say here?" His eyes glinted treacherously in the dim light.
Harry opened his mouth and shut it again. He tried to focus on a point on the wall just past Malfoy's left shoulder.
"I… we're meant to be separated. If we'd stayed masked up, none of this shit would have happened."
"We're not separated though," Malfoy was close to him, he could feel his magical signature from here. Harry wet his lips and swallowed, pondering the strange invitation, and more worryingly, starting to see chinks of logic in Malfoy's insistences.
"I want us to have a duel."
"What?" Malfoy stepped back again with a bemused sort of incredulous smile.
"You must have your wand?"
"Well… yeah, of course I do."
"A proper duel this time. Everything bar Unforgiveables." Malfoy started to look as though he might protest. Harry smirked at him. "If you win, you can do whatever you want with me. You're right. Who knows when we'll get out again?"
Malfoy's eyes travelled cautiously over his challenger's body. He nodded, slowly, a crocodile's smile sneaking over his features. "What if you win?"
"I can erase your memories of tonight."
"Agreed."
"You must set great store by your duelling abilities, Malfoy," said Harry dryly. "Come on, I know where we can go that will serve both our purposes." Without looking back to check whether the blond was following or not, he stepped out into the night.
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As Harry mapped the way to the Shrieking Shack, he felt Malfoy fall into step with his strides, their forearms occasionally jolting each other as they loped up the side of the hill. He could feel the Slytherin's reluctance to enter the place, but he certainly wasn't about to voice any fears to Harry, and he preferred it that way. They did not utter one syllable to each other until Harry, fumbling in the darkness, uncovered the hidden entrance he, Ron and Hermione had once created when they were hiding another potion. They creaked silently into the old house. Malfoy took his wand out, ignoring Harry who immediately eyed it warily, and conjured some blue flames, which he transferred into one of the broken lamps.
"What is this, Potter's dream house?" he scoffed, looking about at the disturbing mangled furnishings and clawed walls without much of a flicker.
"Come on," Harry ignored the barb, leading him upstairs, to the bedroom where Ron had once lain, years ago, with a broken and mangled leg. He pushed aside rising memories of Sirius. Now was not the time.
Malfoy brushed some strands of hair out of his eyes, taking in the surroundings, smirking at the bed. "Well aren't we keen."
Harry ripped his shirt back over his head and tossed it onto the four-poster. Wand in hand, he turned, adrenaline re-awakening his senses. "Are you ready?"
"I won't bow to you, Potter."
"That's alright. I'm not the bowing type."
"One."
"Two."
…
"Sectusempra!"
"Protego! Petrificus-"
"Furnuncula!"
They duelled faster and faster, and Malfoy was good, better than Harry remembered. Twenty minutes later and they were both covered in blood and hex-marks, and standing, sometimes kneeling, or doubled-up, squirming, so near to each other that every hex that hit home did so with such intensity that it might has well have been an Unforgivable after all.
Harry had Malfoy pinned beneath him. He was personally in a lot of pain. His mouth tasted like blood and bile. His chest bone felt smashed somehow. His wand was at Malfoy's temple. The tip of it pressing into the skin above his left ear. Malfoy's wand was hard against his own head. They paused, suspended.
"What now?" Malfoy sounded uncertain.
"Do you want to call it a draw? We both agree to lower our wands. End of duel."
"What did you want to happen if it was a draw?"
"I don't know."
"Swear on your mother's memory that you will not erase anything in my head."
"I swear. On the count of three, we lower our wands and drop them on the floor. Agreed?"
"Agreed. One… two… three…"
They lowered their wands at a snail's pace, then released them. Malfoy coughed bloodily. Harry rolled off him and onto his side. He looked across at Malfoy's torso. It looked like a wreck. Gingerly, he reached over and ran a forefinger across the other boy's mouth. It came away with a coat of fresh blood. Shit.
"Malfoy, I'm going to heal you up as much as I can."
"Get your fucking wand away from me!"
"Malfoy! Merlin, you're losing blood. Come here." Despite protests, he began patching up the other boy as much as possible. Malfoy began heaving himself up as much as he could, shaking the cloudy haze from his eyes.
"You're practically dribbling blood." He fished about for his wand, recovering it and starting to turn Harry a little, this way and that, fixing up the worst areas. Harry's breathing began to come a little easier.
Malfoy gave a rusty laugh, lowering himself laboriously back down into the thick dust that covered the floorboards. "My original idea was a lot less pain-inducing."
Harry wheezed and rolled onto his back. "We were separated for nearly a whole month. Had to get a month's worth of fighting out of the way. Besides, I expected you to give up a lot sooner."
"Like I would ever let you Obliviate me. You would've had to kill me," said Malfoy, quietly.
Harry sat up, remembering what he had been going to make the other boy forget. Malfoy shifted next to him, turned his face towards his. Harry swallowed. This game had been going on for a while now, and what if Ron woke up and alerted someone that he was still out and missing in the night? If they discovered that Malfoy was out too all hell would break loose…
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"What time is it?"
"Four-ish."
Malfoy drew him willingly closer, and met his lips gently, mindful of injury. Harry shivered. The wham-bam attitude of the club was gone. All there was now was the two of them in this house, alone in the dwindling night. Malfoy drew back a little, his gaze dropping down. "Shit, your marks are bad," he said, softly, sounding regretful, tracing his fingers over Harry's bruised chest, "my healing charms aren't up to as much as my dark arts, apparently…"
"Don't mind it," Harry murmured, the hand not supporting himself ghosting over Malfoy's collarbone, which had a bright purple bruise blooming across it, then down to his navel, eliciting a sharp intake of breath, "I've had worse injuries…" the gentle touch of Malfoy's mouth against the base of his neck caused him to moan lightly with sensation. He lowered the blond back onto the floor, carefully, taking the opportunity to swipe his tongue over the space between the Slytherin's navel and the waistband of his jeans. Malfoy panted loudly in surprise.
Harry leaned over to capture his eyes. "Do you want to move this, you know, to the bed?"
Malfoy's smoky gaze shimmered down his body, and back up. "I thought it was a draw."
"It was. I've determined the terms."
"Go on."
"That you're right. Who knows when Dumbledore will let us out again? We'll be separated again. And what happened was… I don't end my nights with a fight, generally. If you still want…" his gesture took in the whole room, "this, then yes. Okay. I don't know what you want to do with this, but we've still got at least an hour, maybe two before we'd be missed. Enough time to get to the hospital wing and let Pomfrey finish us up before we can sleep away Saturday. So…?"
"An eloquent proposal."
"It wasn't meant to be eloquent."
Malfoy sat up again. They helped each other painfully up. The bed was equally as dusty as the floor, but at least it was softer. Malfoy turned away and started ridding himself of the rest of his clothes. Harry fumbled with his own. "Turn around." Malfoy turned. Harry drank him in. He wasn't about to say it, but Malfoy was certainly a pretty, a beautiful sight to behold, even covered in bruises and the occasional hex mark he hadn't been skilled enough to get rid of.
Naked, Harry walked around Malfoy slowly, taking in his pale, practically hairless skin, with the exception of his pubes and leg hair, which were a sandy brown colour. His arms and legs were sculpted without too much muscle. You could see the slight ridge of his bottom rib on each side. He was slightly taller than Harry and had a more model-esque build and stature.
"Finished inspecting me?"
"Yes."
Malfoy circled him, examining the uneven natural tan, how his arms were a shade or two darker than his legs, how Harry was markedly hairier than he was, how his calves and his biceps looked solidly muscular without being ridiculous, but his stomach had a slight, barely-there roll of fat on it. He looked stronger than Malfoy did when he looked in the mirror, and more masculine, despite standing with a slight stoop.
He pulled Harry to him, not quite so gently as before, so that both hissed with a little pain before their mouths met again, this time with more urgency after seeing all that was laid out for them. Malfoy pulled Harry over to the bed and they collapsed on the top of the coverlet, tangled together, skin to skin. Gently, he removed Harry's glasses, which had only just been re-repaired a few minutes ago.
"Hey, I want to see you perfectly."
Malfoy licked a trail up his neck, over his chin to reclaim his mouth, speaking softly into it. "Feel me instead. Tell me what you want."
Harry hesitated, arching into the blond. "You can top." Malfoy groaned softly in response.
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"You alright?"
"Yes… don't stop. Nugh, keep doing that."
"God, Potter…"
"Kiss my neck."
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Around six thirty, Madame Pomfrey was disturbed from her morning cup of coffee and Daily Prophet by a most unwanted knock on the door to the hospital wing. All set and ready to drum into one Albus Dumbledore just how unwelcome his early-morning disturbances were, she banged open the door to discover two of her regulars on the other side, wearing looks that said, 'no questioning, thank you for your concern.' With almost no fuss at all she briskly attended to some very dubious looking marks. No comment was made when vanishing a clear love-bite was necessary.
The castle was making waking noises. In a not so distant corridor, an argument was taking place at full volume. A girl and her boyfriend breaking up on a sunny Saturday morning.
Malfoy fussed with his hair, half turned away from Harry. They shifted over, out of line of the doors to the hospital wing they had just exited. "Sleep's looking good right now."
"Sleep. Right, yeah."
"Think Pomfrey'll rat us to Dumbledore?"
"I don't think so."
Malfoy turned back to him. "Here's to the next four week's separation then."
Harry snorted, idly focusing on the carved skirting board behind the other boy's right ankle. In daylight, in school, the previous night was looking like a very dark, potentially dangerous memory. If there were such a thing as higher powers, he thought, please let them forgive me for what I am about to do.
"Come here," he muttered, pulling Malfoy into a more secluded alcove.
"Careful Potter," whispered the blond, breathing lazily on his cheek, offering a quick lick. Harry shuddered as fantastic, gasping memories of the Shack floated to the top of his head. He leaned in for a last, languid kiss, holding none of the frantic urgency, and all of the regret for what he was about to do.
"Bye, Malfoy."
Malfoy smirked and squeezed his hip flirtatiously before escaping back into the main corridor and starting to beat a retreat back in the direction of the dungeons. Harry felt for the door handle veiled by the tapestry hanging behind him.
"Obliviate."
By the time the bewildered Slytherin had a chance to glance back round, disorientated and giddy, Harry had disappeared.
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The End.
I'd love to know what you thought of this fic! Please leave me a review, any length will do! Thanks lovelies! xxx