Ambrosia Salad

Salad

"Turn to page 394."

Professor Snape's voice reverberated throughout the chilly, damp dungeons as dozens of clearly unmotivated students turned to the correct page. When the rustling of old, faded parchment died down, the Professor continued his instructions in tones almost as greasy as his shiny, jet-black hair.

"Today will be the beginning of a two-week course, in which each of you will be concocting the potion shown on your open page." He motioned to the students' books as he made his way up the aisle. "There are various potions for each student. You will all be paired with another pupil of the same potion, and will work with that person until the two weeks are over."

Harry looked down at his page and found a list of 10 ingredients and half a page of instructions on how to create the perfect Aging Potion. The work seemed fairly difficult, probably one of the hardest he had ever had to make. On his right, Hermione's book was open to the same page, but instead outlined the Directement Potion, which included a list of almost 30 ingredients, and an entire page of instructions that seemed to involve a whole lot more effort than Harry considered necessary. Feeling relieved that he didn't have to struggle with that monstrosity, Harry idly wondered how the same page in everyone's textbook held a different potion, each seemingly honed to the owner's abilities. Harry was about to lean over and ask Hermione, when Professor Snape addressed the class.

"Yes, the potions on this page are attuned to each possessor's abilities, and no, I don't want anyone asking how this is accomplished. It's magic."

A side of Professor Snape's lip twitched upward in a brief flash of an almost-but-not-quite smile. A few Slytherins laughed lightly while the others smirked on approvingly. The Gryffindors, however, all either rolled their eyes or simply continued staring ahead blankly, completely disregarding the rare show of humor from their estranged professor.

Draco reclined in his seat, laying his arms across the bench's long back, and surveyed the Gryffindor side of the room disapprovingly. Leave it to the Gryffindorks to completely ignore any kind of humor coming from a lowly Slytherin like Professor Snape. It wasn't often that Severus showed any emotion other than stern disdain while teaching, but Draco knew that the professor could be pretty damn funny when he wanted to be, and these peasants were dismissing him entirely.

Draco's eyes raked down the row of aforementioned peasants to his right, taking in their slumped-over, glazed expressions with growing annoyance. 'No class whatsoever,' he thought while his gaze paused on Seamus Finnegan, who seemed to be sleeping with his eyes open, a long line of drool seeping from the corner of his mouth and onto his open book. Draco pulled a face and looked away from that rather disgusting sight, and looked instead towards the back of the room.

Just like the previous night in the club, Draco's eyes immediately locked on to Harry, who, unlike his housemates, actually looked somewhat coherent. Even if he was doodling on a scrap piece of parchment and completely ignoring Professor Snape, at least he had the decency to keep his bodily fluids to himself.

As Draco watched, he realized that Harry looked much different in his rumpled school robes and uniform than when donning Muggle clothes at Ambrosia. The robes were extremely deceptive, causing his light frame to look small and almost weak, billowing over and almost completely hiding the muscle that Draco knew was there. His untidy hair and bright green eyes were the same, though; Draco could sense the intensity of Harry's eyes even though they weren't looking at him. Draco deliberated for a bit more, and then decided that he liked club-Harry's look more than school-Harry's. At Ambrosia, Harry had looked decidedly better, but he had also been talkative, friendly, and yes, even funny, and Draco found he liked that a lot.

Draco still wasn't sure what had made him walk up to the Gryffindor last night. His eyes had simply automatically found Harry; almost as if he had done it every other day of his life, and his legs had instinctively began walking towards him. Telling himself that he was going to antagonize Harry, Draco didn't' stop until he sat down next to the surprised-looking boy. But, instead of taking advantage of his upper-hand, Draco found himself saying a nice, "Hello, Potter," and relaxing easily in the boy's company. It was a nice feeling, to relax, so Draco hadn't tried to mess it up by provoking Harry.

The details of last night were surprisingly clear in Draco's mind, and he let himself further block out Snape's droning voice as the memories hit him with spectacular clarity.

Harry's surprise at finding Draco sitting coolly next to him had been short-lived, and he had acted on the defense almost immediately. Draco, however, didn't feel like arguing with Harry that night, and he kept his tone light and easy until the other boy relaxed enough to have an actual conversation.

The fact that Harry had snuck out to a Muggle club on a school night, simply to get away from Hogwarts, had shocked Draco quite a bit. Not just because that was also his own reason, but because Harry was the bloody Boy Who Didn't Feel Like Dying, and he had everything at Hogwarts. Or so Draco had thought.

Another rather shocking moment from last night had come when Harry first truly smiled at Draco. Harry's smile and laugh had been totally different from Draco's imagination. Previously, when Draco imagined Harry's laugh, it was high and squeaky, somewhat reminiscent of a squirrel on helium; not rich and full as Draco now knew it to be.

Along with his laugh, smile, and reason for being out on a school night, Harry's clothes had also been particularly noteworthy. Instead of the scrawny little boy Draco had expected, Harry had proved to be much more... defined. His wifebeater had been scandalously tight, and Draco could clearly see the effects that Quidditch and constantly thwarting evil had inflicted on Harry's body. He hadn't been looking or anything, but it was kind of hard to miss; anyone would have noticed. Hell, even Dumbledore would have let out a low whistle and said, "That is one fine piece of teenaged boy-ass." At least, that's what Draco told himself.

But, of the five senses, they say smell is the strongest, and while sitting in a damp, musty dungeon, Draco Malfoy full-heartedly agreed. Harry had been drinking an Atlantic Passion, and its strong cherry flavor had been most enticing. A thin coating of the liquid had adorned Harry's tongue and lips, leaving behind a slight pinkish tinge and adding to the already strong scent. Draco smirked softly and licked his lips at the memory; he madly, desperately, and utterly loved cherries. Just smelling the rich, fruity flavor that had surrounded Harry made Draco want to reach up and run his tongue over the faded liquid on Harry's mouth over and over and over and-

Wait. No, it didn't. Draco shook his head dazedly and tried to evaluate what he had just thought without having to actually think about it. Since that was decidedly difficult, Draco gave up and rationalized the thought as one of the fiendish plots of cherries to drive him insane.

Draco slowly came back to the lesson at hand, just in time to hear Professor Snape say, "These will be your pairs."

Professor Snape waved his wand at the chalkboard sitting in front of the classroom, and dozens of names written in hurried yet elegant handwriting appeared, all in groups of two. The students shifted in their seats to get a better view, but Draco quickly found his name, and a look of disgusted annoyance formed on his face at who was written next to it: Ronald Weasley.

* * *

"Oh, shit," Ron moaned, his face falling as he read who his partner was going to be for the next two weeks. "I got Malfoy."

"It won't be that bad," Harry said, watching worriedly as Ron began repeatedly banging his head against the table in front of him.

"Easy for you to say," he replied dejectedly, temporarily pausing in his blatant self-abuse and looking up at Harry. "Who'd you get?"

"Blaise Zabini."

Ron snorted and went back to banging his head.

Harry did feel sympathy for his friend. Ron and Malfoy never had gotten along very well, or at all, really, and Ron's hatred for the blonde had always far surpassed Harry's own. But, Harry couldn't help feeling a bit jealous that he hadn't been chosen as Draco's partner instead. Not only because Harry had found himself happily reminiscing about last night quite regularly throughout the morning, but also because this meant finally acknowledging that Ron was better than Harry at Potions. Harry didn't have to look at Malfoy's book to know that the potion on page 394 was the most advanced in the class, and that meant that Ron's was now, too. After a summer of working with Fred and George on their Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Ron had acquired a knack for making all of their liquid-based creations. It seemed that his newly-found skill had transferred into the potion-brewing world, also. Not that Ron was particularly happy about that prospect, especially if it meant having to be paired with a snobby git like Malfoy.

As Harry glanced to his right, he could see that Hermione wasn't exactly pleased with the thought, either. Upon seeing the pairs, her eyes had widened in outrage and her mouth formed a deep scowl, but she remained silent, letting her stiff body language do more than crying out ever could.

'Well, it could have been worse,' Harry thought as he looked up at Blaise Zabini, who was sitting one row across from him on the Slytherin side of the room. He was leaning back lazily, with one leg propped up on the other and his elbows resting on the back of his bench. Blaise's robes were thrown open carelessly and his white school shirt had the first three buttons undone, baring his collarbone and top of his chest unabashedly. His Slytherin tie was nowhere to be seen. Not to say that this was anything worth noting; comparatively, Blaise was being rather conservative. At least his shirt actually had buttons today.

When Harry met his eyes, Blaise smirked seductively and winked, running his tongue slowly along his upper lip.

'Eep,' Harry thought.

* * *

"Ow! Blaise, stop doing that!" Harry hissed at his grinning partner, who had, for the fourth time, just pinched Harry's butt.

"Doing what?" Blaise countered with an innocent look in his dark blue eyes. Harry glared.

"Just finish peeling your shrivelfig," he said.

"Oh, is that was they're calling it these days?" Blaise teased suggestively, giving Harry another wink as he set to work.

'I hope that eye pops out, he steps on it, and falls on his ass. Preferably onto something long, sharp, and pointy,' Harry thought to himself, smiling a little as he did so. He continued chopping his beetles, his body carefully turned away from Blaise, so as not to present a target for the Slytherin.

A moment of relative calm washed over Harry's table, and then-

"Damnit, Weasley! Stop taking my Knife!" Draco, who was working at the table in front of Harry's, reached over and angrily snatched the knife out of a surprised Ron's hands.

"Hey! I need that!" Ron yelled back, trying and failing to grab the utensil out of Draco's hand.

"Well, I need it more. Go get one for yourself if you really want it that bad."

Harry listened to the two boys' confrontation with a frown on his face. It had been going on since they had started working together, with both boys concentrating more on antagonizing the other than actually getting any work done. Draco's bullying behavior didn't fit with Harry's new perspective on the boy, and instead reminded him of why he was a Slytherin, an enemy, and very possibly a future Death Eater. How could he have ever thought that Draco was funny?

"Or," Draco continued, "Maybe you should stick to stirring and let me handle all the cutting. Children aren't supposed to play with knives." He shot Ron a superior look and went back to his chopping. Behind them, Harry's lip twitched upward.

"You bastard," Ron spat. "You were supposed to get all the supplies!"

Draco looked up.

"And you were supposed to grow out of diapers. Not everyone's perfect."

Still keeping his face down, chopping his own beetles, Harry stifled a laugh. 'Oh, yeah. That's how.'

Harry chanced a look up from his beetles, still stifling his laughter, and met the eyes of an equally amused Blaise, who was snickering out loud, not attempting to hide it in the least. This didn't exactly help Harry's condition, and soon he and Blaise were giggling uncontrollably together.

This proved enough to pull Draco's attention away from insulting Ron for at least a moment, and he looked back at the two curiously. Harry looked up, too, only to see Draco's wide smirk and his bright grey eyes sparkling playfully in his direction.

"Oh, and I suppose you are?" Ron shouted.

"What?" Draco answered, pulling his eyes away from Harry distractedly.

"Perfect," Ron explained. "You just said, 'not everyone's perfect', but you obviously don't include yourself in that category."

Draco quickly regained his composure. "So you do listen to me," he said sweetly. "And yes, I am perfect. I mean, have you seen me?" Draco spread his arms a little as if to give Ron a better view of his supposed perfect physique. Harry, who was still following the confrontation closely, couldn't help but let his eyes trail down Draco's body- solely on the basis of looking for any imperfections, of course. Needless to say, he didn't find any.

Harry was forced to tear his eyes away from Draco's perfect body, when, with a strangled cry, Ron launched himself at the Slytherin, knocking them both to the ground with a loud crash. The two boys rolled across the floor, punching and kicking at each other, finally stopping when Ron pinned Draco to the ground. Ron raised his fist, about to aim a hard punch to Draco's face, when Professor Snape arrived and threw Ron off with a flick of his wand.

"What is going on here?" Snape bellowed, once the class had quieted down enough.

Ron and Draco stood up hastily, breathing heavily and glaring at each other from either end of their worktable.

"Well?" Snape reiterated, his voice thick with disdain.

"Weasley attacked me," Draco said accusingly, still glowering at Ron nastily.

"He... He provoked me!" Ron defended himself, pointing angrily at Draco, his face red with rage. When the Potion's Master looked unconvinced, he turned to Harry and said hopefully, "You saw him, Harry! Tell him what happened!"

Harry was taken completely aback by Ron's sudden request, and opened his mouth stupidly in reply, but didn't say anything. As much as he wanted to help his best friend, Harry just couldn't do it. Both boys had been at fault, Ron maybe even more so, and Harry didn't feel right in placing the blame totally on Draco. The fact that this thought had never been a problem before didn't exactly register with Harry at the moment.

The class was silent; all hopes of working on their potions lost in favor of watching a classmate or two get in trouble. Some, like Ron, were staring at Harry expectantly. Harry simply stared back, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat nervously. After a few seconds of dumb silence, Harry was saved from having to speak at all by Snape, who was completely ignoring Harry and Ron's attempted defense.

"That is still no excuse for attacking another student, Mr. Weasley," he said angrily. "50 points from Gryffindor and detention tonight at eight. You will meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall to receive your punishment." Snape looked almost happy as he said this, a small smile lurking on the edges of his otherwise expressionless mouth. Standing beside his table, Ron's eyes narrowed in fury and his lips were set in a hard, thin line, but he remained silent.

"As for you, Mr. Malfoy," Snape continued, turning toward the blonde next to him. Ron's eyes lit up at the thought of Draco's impending punishment, and his lips loosened into a thin smile. "You won't be working with Mr. Weasley any longer, considering how he is affecting your progress." Ron's face fell once more as he realized that Snape wasn't going to punish Draco at all, and was instead still criticizing him. Draco simply looked smug.

Professor Snape scanned the room quickly, his eyes momentarily glinting onto Harry and Blaise, before turning back to Ron and Draco.

"Mr. Weasley, you will now be assisting Mr. Zabini with his potion, and Mr. Potter, you will assist Mr. Malfoy. I apologize for the inconvenience." The last part was spoken solely to Draco, who nodded resignedly to his professor. However, when Snape turned to leave, Draco caught Harry's eye and smiled briefly, before leaning down and straightening his bench, which had been knocked over in the fight.

* * *

"Whoa, can you even do that by yourself?" Harry's inquiry was directed at Draco, who had just told him that they needed to pour in four different jars of crushed beetle shells while straining the juice of a knotgrass leaf into their potion.

"No, Potter, you can't. That's why we're working in pairs. As in, two people," Draco explained carefully, making sure that Harry grasped the otherwise simple concept.

"Well, obviously, but..." Harry shook his head. "Never mind," he finished, reaching for the knotgrass leaves and the strainer. Draco already held the four bottles and was waiting to add them to their potion.

Before, when Harry thought of potion brewing, he always pictured some thin, raggedy person hunched over a bubbling cauldron, muttering to themselves about ingredients and ratios, locked away in a dark dungeon and cut off from the rest of the world. But, as he began straining his knotgrass leaf, Draco pouring in the beetle shells next to him, he decided that his vision needed a rewrite. Now he saw two people, talking and laughing with each other over a steaming cauldron in a bright, airy room. Instead of the dark, depressing vision of potion-making that Professor Snape had instilled in his mind, Harry could now see a cheerful, and daresay, fun, side of Potions. He was still far from thinking that Potions actually was fun, but at least now he could see its potential.

"Okay," Draco said, once they were finished adding their ingredients. He ran a slender finger down the page of instructions open in front of him, and then continued, "Now we need to let that simmer for 10 minutes. While we're waiting, you can chop the eggplant and I'll mash the rattlesnake eggs."

"Oh, goody," Harry said sarcastically, and then backtracked. "Wait... did you say 'eggplant'?" Harry leant over and turned the book towards himself.

"Did I stutter? Yes, I said 'eggplant'," Draco replied distractedly, searching their worktable for a pestle.

"Hm," Harry said, after reading for himself that he did indeed have to chop up two cups of ripe eggplant. "What are we making, anyway?" Harry flipped back a page and read, at the same time that Draco said, "Veritaserum."

"Oh," Harry replied, "I know that one. It's a truth serum." Harry looked up at Draco for confirmation.

"Score one for Potter. I guess you're not totally hopeless after all," Draco said while holding up a vial and pouring in his mashed rattlesnake eggs. Harry chose to ignore his last statement.

"And we're going to have to try this out, right?" Harry asked.

"When it's done, yes." Draco turned a malicious gaze on Harry. "And then I'll finally know all of Potty's little secrets. How fun."

Harry scoffed. "Please. As if I'd let you test it on me. We're testing it on you."

"We are most definitely not. You're the expendable one here."

"Well fine, then I guess I'll just have to sabotage it now and make us fail the assignment," Harry said defiantly, crossing his arms over his chest. Draco put his vial down and did the same, leaning back against their worktable.

"I'm sure that you're doing a pretty good job of that already." Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Draco cut him off. "Anyway, you would still have to test the potion even if you sabotaged it, and that would only serve to poison you." Harry's mouth closed. "So it's your choice. Either submit to me and my line of questioning entirely, or die. Choose wisely," Draco finished with a grin.

Harry paused a moment, looked to their potion and back, and then said, "Tell my friends I love them." He picked up a bottle of Extracted Gillyweed Water and brought it to their cauldron, tipping it slightly as if to pour it in. Draco's hand shot out before Harry could get too far, though, and he grabbed on to Harry's wrist, halting the boy's attempted sabotage with a firm grip. Harry looked back at Draco innocently, although his smile was devilish.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Draco said softly.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, is there a problem?" Professor Snape appeared next to the two boys suddenly, swirling black robes and all. Harry and Draco both snapped their heads up and pulled their hands away from the cauldron, Harry setting the Gillyweed Extract down and Draco bringing his hand back to his body.

"No, Sir, just a misunderstanding," Draco lied quickly.

Snape's eyes darted from Draco to Harry, apparently unconvinced, but he accepted the explanation nonetheless. "Fine. Mr. Potter, mind Mr. Malfoy. His expertise in this area far surpasses your own." And with that, Professor Snape turned to continue his prowling through the rows.

Harry and Draco resumed their potion-making silently, sharing only a small glance once Professor Snape had left. Harry continued chopping his eggplant absently, his real concentration focused on the events that had just occurred. He was confused- happily confused, but confused all the same. Had Malfoy really just lied to a teacher for Harry's benefit? It was obvious even to Harry that Draco had blown a perfect opportunity to get him in trouble, and yet he hadn't. This was all the confirmation Harry needed about last night- before he had just thought something was different; now he knew it. And it seemed Draco knew it as well. This thought caused a tremor of excitement to pass through Harry's body and he suddenly couldn't wait to be back in that dim Muggle club, drinking an Atlantic Passion, watching the dancers, and talking to Draco.

"Hey, Potter, what time is it?" Draco's voice cut through Harry's musings. Harry looked quickly at his watch before responding.

"2:37. Why?"

"We'll need to add the eggplant and the eggs in two minutes. Are you ready?"

"Yeah, I'm ready," Harry replied, briefly checking his supplies.

"Good," Draco said, smiling softly. He scanned the table and saw Harry's jar of eggplant sitting near the edge next to Harry's waist. He reached over to check the measurements of the jar's contents, but when his hand neared the container, Harry visibly flinched away. Draco pulled back confusedly. Harry must have seen his expression because afterwards he looked down sheepishly and ran a nervous hand through his hair.

"Sorry," Harry started, "I'm just a little jumpy after being paired with Blaise. He kept pinching my arse." Harry absently rubbed at his butt and Draco laughed.

"I know what you mean," Draco said, happy to note that Harry didn't move away when he actually did grab the jar of eggplant. "Blaise is a horny little thing; he'll hit on anything that's not dead. Consciousness is always optional, though."

Harry snorted. "Thanks, that really helps boost my self-esteem," he sarcastically replied.

"Well, there's no accounting for the man's taste." Draco grabbed his vial of snake eggs. "Ready to add these?" Harry nodded and poured in his chopped eggplant as Draco poured in his snake eggs. When they finished, the potion sizzled and turned bright purple.

"Great," Draco said, clear delight shown on his face. "That's it for today. I must say that I'm quite surprised, Potter. Our potion didn't blow up, turn a nasty color, or evolve into man-eating slime. Your reputation lies."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Draco rolled his eyes and Harry smiled. "Let's clean this mess up; class is almost over." Harry and Draco began clearing away their supplies, when a voice erupted from behind them-

"Zabini, you better stop pinching my ass before I hex your fucking arm off! And stop winking at me!" Ron yelled, sounding very much like he was just about to do as he said.

Harry and Draco looked at each other, incredulous smiles on their faces, and burst out laughing.

* * *

Hermione and Harry sat on the large leather couch in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room, silently completing their Charms assignments. Every once in a while, Hermione would stop writing to check her book for extra information, just as Harry would stop writing to check Hermione's paper for any information. It was nearing eight o'clock, and the common room was relatively quiet, with students either working on homework or chatting with friends, so when Ron came barreling down the boy's dormitory staircase and threw himself onto the couch next to Harry, it was kind of hard to miss. Harry and Hermione, though both surprised, remained quiet at the murderous look on Ron's face. So, the three sat in expectant, tense, silence for a few moments, one too angry to form a complete sentence and the others too frightened of what would happen if they did.

After a couple minutes, Hermione took a deep breath and said over Ron's loud breathing, "Don't you think you should be leaving now, Ron? Your detention is at eight ..." She trailed off as Ron snapped his angry blue eyes away from the floor (was that a hole in the rug?) and up to meet hers.

"That slimy Slytherin bastard! I swear, next time I see him, I'm gonna kill him! He thinks he's so smart and so sophisticated when he's really just a stuck-up little asshole!" Ron rose to his feet and paced heatedly in front of his friends, voicing his opinions loudly and irately. Harry, who was still seated on the couch, ducked as one of Ron's madly gesticulating hands almost knocked him in the face.

"Ron," Hermione said, her brown eyes following Ron's movements worriedly, "I don't think you should talk about Snape like that. He is a professor, after all." Ron finally stopped pacing and stared at Hermione.

"Snape? Who's talking about Snape? I'm talking about bloody Malfoy!" And he was off again.

Harry and Hermione had been expecting this outburst from Ron all evening. After potions had ended, Ron had stormed off, obviously furious, but evasively silent. At dinner, Ron's mood hadn't improved, and he took to stabbing repeatedly at his food while muttering incoherently under his breath. So, when he finally blew up in the common room, neither one was entirely surprised. Caught off-guard and just a little terrified, yes, but not surprised.

"...And then I'll punch his face in like this..." Ron grabbed a pillow off the couch and attacked, jumping on top of it and throwing it around haphazardly.

"Yes, Ron, that's nice, but I really do think you should be going now," Hermione said, a bit more sternness laced in her voice. Ron picked up the pillow once more and threw it onto the couch with all of his strength, made a rude hand gesture at it, and then turned and stormed out of the portrait hole.

Harry let out a breath he hadn't been aware of holding and relaxed his tense muscles. Hermione threw an exasperated glance at the closed portrait hole and gently picked up the abused pillow, charming the small tear in it shut before speaking.

"Well, I'm glad that's over."

Harry agreed, "Yeah, but at least this time he wasn't yelling at us... it was more like yelling to us."

Hermione laughed lightly and leaned back against the cushions. "Leave it to Malfoy to get Ron so worked up. No one else can make him angry like that."

"Yeah..." Harry paused. "But, the fight in Potions wasn't really Malfoy's fault, you know. Ron was the one who attacked him."

"But Ron wouldn't have attacked Malfoy if he hadn't been provoked," Hermione said matter-of-factly.

"Well, sure, but-" Harry was cut off.

"It doesn't matter. Let's just finish this homework, shall we?" Hermione immediately went back to writing her essay, her hand scribbling quickly across her parchment. Harry tried to do the same, but one can only spend so much time going over wand movements before the mind starts to wander.

* * *

Draco stood bathed in the yellowing light of a Muggle streetlamp, clad in faded blue jeans and a fitted white shirt, contemplating his next move. He wanted to be inside the club behind him, dancing, drinking and talking, but something was holding him back. Draco knew that Harry wasn't in Ambrosia yet; he had seen the boy heading up to Gryffindor tower just 10 minutes ago. This usually wouldn't have bothered Draco- it really shouldn't have bothered Draco- but the dancing, drinking and talking didn't seem quite as appealing if Harry wasn't there, too. 'I'll just go in, and if he shows up, good for him, and if he doesn't, it's his bloody loss. Besides, if he does come, I'll be able to find him in there just as well as out here.' Draco nodded resolutely to himself and turned toward the entrance to Ambrosia.

'...But what if he does show up and I can't find him because of those damn flashing lights?' Draco faltered and stayed put. The same argument had been running through his head for the past 10 minutes, each time with a different reason for not being able to find Harry. First it was because of those damn Muggles, and then it was because of those damn drinks, and so on. So, Draco stayed where he was, wondering when Harry was coming, worried that he wasn't coming, and wishing that the deep thumping from the club behind him would shut up for a minute and let him think.

* * *

"...But if you say Wingardium LevioSA, it completely changes the spell. So, I was thinking about writing my next report on charm pronunciation. What do you think, Harry?" Hermione turned to look at Harry, who remained completely silent. Charms and the pronunciation of them was the last thing on Harry's mind at the moment; instead, he was lost, imagining all of the things he could be doing right now at Ambrosia, most of which seemed to involve Draco in some way. Harry badly wished he were there- he'd take really loud, tasteless music to Hermione's lectures any day. Thinking about Hermione reminded him of where he was at the moment, and he pulled himself back just enough to hear her say, "...Of course, first I'll have to convince the monkey to sleep with me, and you know how stubborn monkeys can be."

Harry's attention was yanked back to reality. "W-What? You're going to... monkey?" he stuttered, staring at his friend in wonder.

Hermione let out a long-suffering sigh. "Glad to have you back. And, no, I do not plan on sleeping with any monkeys. That was just a diversionary tactic." Harry relaxed and Hermione looked at him with concern. "Are you okay, Harry? That's the second time today you've drifted off. Do you want to talk about anything?" Hermione gently placed her hand on top of Harry's where it rested on his knee and looked straight into his eyes supportively. But, Harry felt far from supported at the gesture. In fact, his head began to throb with pain from the second her demeanor had shifted into Caring Friend mode. So, Harry smiled thinly, denied her summations, and politely excused himself from the room.

When Harry entered his empty dorm, still a bit frustrated and on edge, he went quickly to his wardrobe, threw it open, and paused. On one shelf sat his pajamas, freshly washed, and on another sat his Muggle clothes- the ones he usually wore to Ambrosia. He reached out, hand hovering over but not quite touching the flannel pajama pants, his eyes darting back and forth between the two garments. Harry bit his bottom lip in contemplation. 'Aw, fuck it,' he thought, and instead reached for a pair of dark blue jeans and a rather tight green shirt. Throwing his new clothes on, Harry searched through his trunk and grabbed his invisibility cloak before heading out the door.

* * *

'Damn Gryffindors... Sure, they're noble and brave when it comes to fighting evil, but when it comes to meeting someone at a club on time, they're absolutely disgraceful!... So what if we never said we were meeting here tonight... it was implied!... Next time I see Potter, I'm going to-' Draco's internal musings were cut short as a group of teens noisily walked past him, the girls dressed in short, tight outfits and the boys in clothes much like his own. All of the girls blatantly checked Draco out as they walked by, and a couple of the guys looked approvingly at him. The crowd passed and entered Ambrosia, its music rising in volume as the doors opened and shut behind them. Draco's face looked pained as he stared back at the closed black doors. 'That's it, screw Potter, I'm going in!'

Draco took one definite step out of the pool of yellowish light, before pausing when an unmistakable crack! sounded from the shadows next to him. He turned his head expectantly just as Harry stepped out from beside the building and greeted Draco with delighted surprise.

"Hey, Malfoy. You just get here?"

Draco didn't miss a beat. "Yes, I did, actually. What a coincidence." He smiled sardonically.

"Great," Harry responded with a smile of his own. "You want to head inside, then?" he motioned toward the heavy black door that was the entrance to Ambrosia.

"Love to," Draco said, and the two walked together into the loud, multi-colored club.

* * *

"What the fuck is going on here?"

Draco's words matched his horror-struck expression as he and Harry stepped into Ambrosia. A loud, poppy tune was being blasted through the speakers and the floor was full of rocking, grinding dancers. It was these people that Draco was gaping at, open-mouthed with shock; the club was a sea of leg warmers, leather jackets, ripped clothing, and teased hair. A sign above the door read, "80's NITE" in large, obnoxious script, but Draco didn't seem to have noticed this just yet- his brain was still trying to work through the catastrophe that was 80's music.

Harry simply shook his head and grabbed Draco's unresisting arm, leading- or rather, dragging- him through the crowds until reaching Harry's favorite place on the bar. Harry sat down and ordered two beers, and then turned back to Draco, who had managed to avert becoming comatose, if only for the moment.

"I'm so confused," Draco said, not taking his eyes off the dance floor. "I knew Muggles were crazy, but this exceeds even my expectations." Draco finally tore his eyes away and looked over at Harry, who was trying to contain his laughter at seeing Draco so disoriented.

"Welcome to the wonderful world of Ambrosia theme nights," he said. "Tonight, experience the good times again with Madonna, The Cure, Cyndi Lauper, and many others at the best 80's Night in town!"

Draco looked even more scandalized after this enthusiastic proclamation and actually scooted away from Harry a bit.

"What?"

"I read it on a poster outside," Harry explained, and Draco was visibly relieved. "Basically it means, 'Welcome to 80's Night'."

Draco's nose scrunched up in disgust. "80's Night? As in, the 1980's?" Harry nodded. "So you're saying that I'm trapped in a bar filled with Muggles pretending to relive a past they weren't even a part of?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"And I came here voluntarily? Good God, what's wrong with me?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at such an open-faced question. "I'd tell you, but I left the list back in my dorm. And, besides, the wheelbarrow I have to carry it in doesn't match my outfit." Harry shrugged innocently as he gestured to his clothes.

Draco didn't look amused. "Rhetorical question, Potter."

"Sure, a rhetorical question, but answered truthfully."

Draco's voice rose in shock. "Truthfully?" he scoffed. "You want the truth?"

"Not really."

"Good. The truth is that there is absolutely nothing wrong with Draco Malfoy."

"Except for the fact that he refers to himself in the third person," Harry said mockingly.

Draco glowered. "Only when I'm around such simple-minded people like yourself. I happen to find that it dramatically reduces the number of crying outbreaks."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Just drink your beer." Harry took a sip of his own as Draco complied with a self-satisfied grin, confident that he had gotten in the last word. 'I am Draco, King of all that is sarcasm! Hear me roar!'

"By the way," Harry said after another gulp, "Exactly who was doing the crying back there? You, or your simple-minded friends?" Harry grinned maliciously when all Draco did was scowl at him in the dim, ever-changing light.

'Rawr!' thought Harry.

The unabashed, heartbroken pop song that had been blasting throughout the club finally began to filter out as a new, just as poppy one took its place. The beginning chords of 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun' were heard, and the DJ addressed the crowd with loud, high energy.

"Hey hey hey! All the ladies out there know what this song is talking about! So all you girls get your fine asses out on the dance floor and show us how to have fun! Whooo!"

The song started up again, full-blast, as all of the girls in the club did just as they were told. The lights changed from multi-colored to entirely pink as the group on the dance floor yelled and began dancing with one another, the guys in the club watching the show intensely.

After his ears stopped ringing, Draco turned to Harry with wide eyes, his pupils darting quickly from him to the dance floor. Harry sighed, and, knowing he'd regret it later, asked, "What is it, Malfoy?"

"I believe they called for you," he said motioning toward the floor. "They need your fine ass out there to show them how to have fun! Whooo!"

Harry laughed at Draco's imitation.

"No, thanks, but this is a fine ass for sitting on, actually. I think I'll stay here."

"Oh, come on. The rest of your moody species is already out there." Draco jerked his head towards the dancers, who were indeed still dancing.

"I don't dance," Harry said in response. Draco's eyebrows shot up.

"What do you mean, you don't dance? You're in a bloody night club, of course you dance!"

Harry shook his head. "Nope, not once."

Draco's face twisted into a look of absolute astonishment. He was having difficulty processing this new piece of information- not that the music or the complete pinkness surrounding him was any help. His thoughts kept turning to flamingos. Giant, pink, flamingos.

He turned firmly in his seat, facing Harry with an unbelieving expression.

"You've not once danced in... how long have you been coming here?"

Harry thought for a moment.

"Since the end of last year."

"So you've been coming here for, what, 4 years now, and you've never danced?

"Four years? It's only been-"

"I mean, with anyone at all? Ever? I knew there was something wrong with you- a lot of somethings, actually- but this is madness! Why?"

Harry raised his shoulders and said simply, "I don't like it."

"You don't like it? You don't like it?! That is the most outrageous thing I've ever heard in my life! That's completely atrocious and horrible and wrong and-" Draco stopped as his expression slowly shifted into a look of thoughtful determination, and a small hum of apprehension crept into the forefront of Harry's mind. "-And I'm going to fix it!"

"F-fix what? Nothing's broken!" The quiet hum of apprehension escalated into a heavy buzz at the sight of Draco's roguish smile and wildly glinting eyes.

"I'm going to fix you," Draco said, sounding like a 10-year-old who was just offered seconds on his favorite dessert. "I'm going to make you dance!"

The warning buzz that had been present in Harry's mind throughout Draco's proclamations burst into full-on red-alert, complete with flashing lights and wailing alarms as Harry realized that Draco was serious.

"No way, Malfoy. I'm not going to dance! You can't be serious?" Harry added as a hopeful afterthought. Draco simply nodded his head while drinking the last of his beer. His grin was still in place when he removed the bottle.

"Oh, yes you are and yes I am."

Harry unconsciously shrank back in his seat, feeling the sudden urge to be as far away from Malfoy as possible. Just when Harry thought it couldn't get any worse, the lights flickered once and changed back to their usual multi-colored selves, and the music switched to the unthinkable- ABBA's "Dancing Queen".

Harry could almost see it happening- Draco's brain taking in the lights, music, and Harry's obvious objection to the idea, and coming up with one devastating solution- 'Now'.

Draco reached over and yanked Harry's beer out of his hands, setting it down on the bar behind them before standing up and pulling Harry up after him. Harry teetered for a moment, not expecting the sudden action, and was easily hauled the few steps towards the packed dance floor before stopping both him and Draco. Draco turned around and took in the whirlwind expression on Harry's face excitedly. "Come on, Potter. It's just dancing."

"But-"

"No," Draco took a step closer to Harry. "You're going, I'm going, and you're going to like it." And with that, Draco shot Harry a compelling smirk, tugged once more on his resisting arm, and paraded them both between the hordes of rocking bodies and onto the dance floor.