This fic is based off of a very random idea my cousin and I came up with one day. We're both taking turns writing segments of it. There is randomness galore.

Title: Merlin's Malt

By: FracturedRequiem and Haunted Emerald Depths

Note: There will be Draco/Harry SLASH. If you don't enjoy male/male pairings, be gone with you.

Disclaimer: We don't own Harry Potter, and no money is being made here. Let's leave it at that.

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"Oh, come on Harry. You've got to live a little. I mean, you've been training nonstop for this upcoming war. I know what you're doing is very important and all, but you've got to have fun sometimes."

Harry merely glared at his redheaded friend before replying, "I guess I can sort of see your point." He heaved a frustrated sigh. "But what if we get caught? We're not even supposed to be in this part of Hogsmeade."

"Since when do you care about the rules?" Seamus chimed in. "If I remember correctly, in previous years, you were always getting into loads of trouble." Dean nodded his head in agreement.

Thanks for the help, guys. "But I've never been to a place like this. It's going to be so..." Harry trailed off, unable to think of a word. His face reddened somewhat for reasons unbeknownst to him, but due to the darkness, no one could see.

"I haven't either," Ron replied nonchalantly. "It's high time we tried something new." He proceeded to grab Harry's arm and drag him toward a large building with flashing lights and music so loud it could be heard from thirty feet away. The raven-haired teen sighed in defeat as his friends ushered him along. As he passed underneath the sign that read Merlin's Malt, a single thought flitted through his head -- This ought to be interesting...

Ron opened the door, and the group was almost swept away by a wave of music. The raven-haired boy's jaw dropped open as he gawked at what lay before them, frozen in place. It wasn't until he received a hard poke that he began moving again.

"Wicked!"

That was the first word that managed to escape Harry's dry throat as he entered Merlin's Malt. His eyes and ears had never encountered such a combination of color and sound. Candles floated high above the heads of the crowded room, changing colours and sending sparks up into the air that reflected upon the raven-haired boy's glasses. Live music was coming from deep inside another room below, though with its volume there wasn't really need for a floor between them. Harry turned to Hermione and Ron, trying to hide the excitement and thrill he was feeling.

"S'alright, I suppose," Harry shouted over the roaring music, shrugging his shoulders, though he couldn't hide the smile that was growing larger and larger on his face.

"Oh, I KNEW you would like it, Harry!" yelled Seamus, his smile, if possible, even larger than Harry's. Harry looked to Ron, who didn't seem to be partaking in their joy. On the contrary, he looked rather uncomfortable and annoyed.

"What's the matter, Ron?" Harry managed to yell, but before he could receive an answer, the crowd seemingly circled and then engulfed him, along with all his senses. At that moment, he didn't care what Ron thought. At that moment, he didn't care that the Wizarding world was in the midst of a war between good and evil. All that mattered to Harry, at that precise moment, was letting the music overpower and penetrate him.

Harry had never truly danced before (he didn't count his attempt with Parvati during the Yule Ball), but it was as if some innate feeling was taking a hold of him. Tendrils of music seeped into his mind and seized control of his motions. A beat formed in his head, and his body soon became one with it. Harry lost himself among the other dancers, not caring for one moment if he was making a fool of himself. He was barely aware of the tension, which had built up over the past several weeks, leaving him.

Harry's surroundings became a blur of motion. He lost track of where his friends were, how long he was on the floor, even who he was. He wasn't Harry Potter, saviour of the Wizarding world. He was a mere seventeen-year-old boy who wanted to enjoy life as much as possible. The music allowed this; the weight that was usually settled on his shoulders steadily dissolved into nothing, allowing him to float into oblivion.

However, all good things must come to an end. Harry fell back to reality -- literally. Due to his lack of awareness of his surroundings, Harry slammed into someone, hard, and sent them both crashing to the floor. The Gryffindor sat up, rubbing his back, an apology poised on his lips. He was just about to let it free when he saw who the other person was. There was no mistaking that blonde hair anywhere. At the sight of those grey eyes, the apology died away instantly, instead being replaced with a scathing remark. However, he bit his lip to keep it back. He merely choked back his animosity and settled for a glare and allowed a bite to be heard in his tone.

"Malfoy."

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To be continued