Ambrosia Salad

Take

The Slytherin common room wasn't exactly a "cheery" place- it was cold, it was stony, and at times it smelled vaguely of rotting cabbage (but that usually depended on the whereabouts of Crabbe and Goyle). The Slytherin couches, however, were large, plush, and really quite comfortable, especially on the ends facing the ornate marble fireplace, which was constantly left burning.

Draco Malfoy sat with his feet tucked under his long legs and his arms folded delicately atop one deep green arm rest, the bright orange flames casting ethereal shadows along his pale face. Across from him sat Pansy, Blaise, and a mix of other, mostly younger, Slytherins that Draco hadn't deemed important enough to learn the names of. Pansy and Blaise were talking, probably to him, but Draco wasn't paying attention- he had more pressing matters to occupy his thoughts, like how he should deal with his father, what actions Voldemort would take at his impending defiance, and why his skin still hadn't stopped burning from the memory of dancing with Harry last night.

"Right, Draco?" Hearing his name spoken in Pansy's whining tone, Draco tilted his head slightly and ventured at (what he hoped was) the correct response.

"Right, Pansy," he said noncommittally, keeping his silver gaze on the glowing fireplace.

"See, Blaise? Draco agrees, too. Your skin is much too light for that particular shade of purple..."

Draco tuned out the conversation again and let his mind wander to more interesting topics. It didn't have to travel far.

The small, brazen interior of Ambrosia always seemed that much tinier when stuffed to the brim with hundreds of sweaty, hot bodies- not that Draco minded. The more packed it was, the closer he got to be to tan, sinuous skin; hard, rolling muscle, and-

"Draco just loves it. Don't you, Draco?"

This time it was Blaise who interrupted his musings. Again, Draco gave an unfocused, dismissive response, "Hmm? Oh, yeah," and his thoughts continued on their previous track.

-the longer he was able to run his fingers through soft, tangled hair. The penetrating green eyes reminded him that this was Potter- Harry- and he reveled in that fact. Draco reveled in the feeling of Harry's hands stroking his sides and Harry's hips rocking right next to his own in perfect, synchronized rhythm. He reveled in the sensation of Harry's breath, hot and uneven, ghosting across his cheek, so-

"So we'll do this once a week, right, Draco?"

"Wonderful," Draco mumbled.

-wonderfully light and excruciatingly close. Harry's skin burned under his touch with fierce, sweat-covered clarity, and the fleeting brush of Harry's jean-clad hips against his own- so brief; too brief- sent a fiery blast of sparks shooting up his body; and back down. Harry felt it, too; Draco could tell from the grasp clenched tightly on his waist and see it in the darkening irises so near to his own. He could see the mirrored heat, he could see the longing and the passion, but most of all, Draco could see the-

Cabbage.

There was a heavy thunk next to Draco and he felt the couch sink down a good six inches on his left side. Startled, Draco blinked and tore his gaze from the burning fireplace.

"Hey, Greg," Pansy greeted Goyle cheerfully, nose only slightly wrinkled at the all-too-familiar odor that accompanied the presence of their friend.

Goyle grunted a similar response and settled in to join Pansy and Blaise's conversation. Draco shifted closer to the arm of the couch and further from the bulky mass seated next to him, attempting to recapture his previously derailed train of thought.

Harry's blunt nails unconsciously pierced the sides of Draco's waist and back, the punctuated sensations mingling with the soft, almost gentle caresses of the other boy's palms. Draco's breath caught and he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, biting gently on the moist skin as his own fingertips raked the back of Harry's heated neck-

"Hey, Draco."

Suddenly, the stench of decaying produce doubled and Draco angrily looked up, only to find Crabbe's stomach rippling jovially directly in front of his face. Viewing this as a rather harsh devolvement from his own musings, Draco was extremely (and understandably) ticked off.

"What do you want?" he spat, clearly annoyed at the smelly interruption.

"Nothin', really," Crabbe floundered, his gut jiggling with petrified nervousness. "It's just... your lip's bleeding. I thought you'd wanna know."

Draco's eyes widened and he tentatively brought his fingertips to his bottom lip, running them across the coating of red liquid found on the sensitive flesh. He inspected his discolored fingers for a moment, and then pulled his hand away and hastily licked his lips, tongue clearing the aftermath of sharp teeth and distracting thoughts. Having delivered his message, Crabbe moved down the couch to sit on the other side of Goyle, prompting the large teen (and his stench) to scoot closer to Draco, who immediately scrambled out of the way. Draco stood and scowled at his oblivious friends; he was and still had some very important matters to think through- matters best thought through in private, it seemed.

"So then I told that prissy Ravenclaw she could just shove it up her- Hey, Draco, where are you going?" Pansy broke off her conversation with Blaise as Draco swiftly brushed past their position on the opposing couch.

"To get some salt," came Draco's snide reply, not halting in his quick retreat.

"What- salt?"

"For the cabbage," Draco said before cutting across the common room floor and stepping out into the dark hallway, the stone wall closing behind him on four confused and slightly worried Slytherin faces.

* * *

Harry Potter crept slowly down the long, moonlit corridor, keeping his steps soft and ears alert for any sound other than that of his own rapidly beating heart. He trailed one hand along the side of a hard, uneven wall, keeping his bearings even without the ominous light from his pocketed wand. Harry's fingers reached the end of the cool stone and he cautiously peered around a sharp corner, scanning the area for any possible dangers- bored teachers, prowling animals, cranky portraits- before continuing on his way. The nighttime hallways of Hogwarts always seemed that much more sinister without the protection of his invisibility cloak- but they were also that much more exciting. Harry's senses were heightened as the adrenaline pumped through his body in methodic bursts, nearly satisfying the late-night urge for adventure that had abruptly assaulted him just hours ago. This cautious slinking and piercing awareness was enticing enough, but it was nothing compared to the onslaught of sensation that he experienced during his nights spent in Ambrosia, his nights spent dancing with Draco. Harry's heart beat minutely faster at the mere memory of those few, auspicious meetings, and Harry was forced to pause and slow his suddenly quickened breathing before moving on.

This corridor was shorter than the previous one, and darker; it gave off the distinct impression of neglect, and Harry gradually came to the realization that he didn't recognize this area from either his classes or previous wanderings. He stopped again, this time to peer around the unfamiliar hallway- to his right the wall stretched on for another ten feet of rough gray stone, and to his left laid a door. The decision wasn't hard; Harry slunk toward the dark wooden door and pulled it noiselessly open. Slipping inside and drawing the door shut with a muted click, Harry searched his new surroundings with curiosity. It looked like a spare classroom, long ago deserted and forgotten about, with a thin layer of dust and a few large, white sheets covering the scattered desks and chairs. Harry's imagination was immediately disappointed as he realized that the mysterious door wasn't hiding anything mysterious at all (unless the school's largest dust bunny counted), and he was just about to turn back around to leave when a familiar, exciting voice caused him to jump, eyes darting to the far corner underneath the large, dirt-covered blackboard.

"Hey, Potter."

* * *

Draco's voice carried through the sparse room sharply, though not loudly, and the unnecessary flinch from Harry caused Draco's lips to curl into an amused half-smile. The area was lit solely by moonlight, probing rays casting light blue and silver hues over the room's occupants; with his legs bent in front of his body and arms resting comfortably on top of his knees, Draco supposed he was easily lost in the shadows. Harry, however, had been easy to identify, even in the dim lighting- Draco could spot that mess of hair anywhere.

Harry caught his breath and cracked a small smile, his body visibly relaxing. "Merlin, Malfoy," he said, "you're lucky I didn't hex you. What are you doing here?" he asked and walked a few paces closer to Draco's corner. Draco, still lounging casually with his back to the far wall, smiled and ran his fingers through his hair before answering.

"Actually, I've just been fighting off a swarm of raging house elves. They've gone now, but trust me, they'll be back."

Harry's grin loosened slightly and his steps faltered, green eyes darting curiously to the other three corners of the room. Draco laughed.

"I'm just sitting, Potter."

"Oh," Harry said, his eyes returning to Draco, though his smile remained decidedly skeptical. "Just sitting? You're not doing anything else?"

"Not really," Draco shrugged. "I had some things to think about..." Draco trailed off as he remembered just what he had been so caught up in thinking about- Harry's fingers were slightly damp as they clenched the base of Draco's rolling back- and, before he could stop it, the slightest tint of red rose on his cheeks.

Harry, thankfully, didn't notice. "Why couldn't you have done that in your common room?" he inquired, steps finally carrying him to lean his left shoulder and hip on the wall next to Draco's lowered position.

'Because I don't think the other Slytherins would fully appreciate the sight of us dancing together,' Draco thought, before formulating an answer in his fantasy-fogged brain that actually pertained to Harry's question. When he finally spoke, Draco's vehemence surprised even himself.

"Why couldn't I think with those idiots in my own common room? Ha- Most likely because I don't fancy discussing which particular shade of blue highlights my complexion. Every bloody night."

Harry let himself laugh and slid down the wall, his body landing with a muffled thump, unsettling the dust scant inches away from Draco. "I had no idea that Slytherins were so immature." Harry paused. "Oh, wait, yes I did. I just didn't ever think I'd hear you say it."

Draco smirked at Harry through the soft moonlight. "I never said they were immature; I merely implied that they could use some new discussion topics."

"Right," Harry replied. "The fact that you called them idiots is regardless, I'm sure."

Draco raised an eyebrow and looked almost approvingly at Harry. "Fine, I admit it; some Slytherins are immature idiots. I mean, honestly- as if any shade of blue doesn't look good on me." The eyebrow lowered and Draco flashed his most self-assured smile, grey eyes daring Harry to say otherwise.

Harry (wisely) chose not to refute Draco's claim and replied with a simple, "No, of course not," and a brief silence fell over the dusted room. Harry shifted his legs so they lay crossed in front of him, his knee ending up pressed lightly against the side of Draco's ankle. The movement caused their shoulders to bump as well, the coarse material of their white, button-down school shirts scraping together before the two settled comfortably against each other. The contact was easy; comforting, even; though neither boy was in particular need of being comforted at the moment. Eventually, Harry leaned his head back and broke the silence. "So, what was it that you came down here to think about?"

Draco blinked and turned his head forward, away from Harry's direct line of vision, as a smaller, more reclusive smile graced his lips. "Nothing," he said.

Harry's interest, however, had been piqued the moment Draco averted his gaze, and he couldn't help but pry some more. "Liar," he said, pressing back lightly on Draco's side, and shining grey eyes flew to his once again. "You had to be thinking about something. So, what is it? Friends, family, classes? Breakfast cereals?" Harry prompted, to which Draco laughed and made a supercilious expression, delaying his answer for a short while. Draco leaned his head back against the cold wall and looked into Harry's eyes- Green; even underneath Ambrosia's ambivalent, sliding lights, Draco was close enough to see their striking color- and he sighed before picking one of Harry's suggestions and answering, "Family."

It wasn't a total lie- that particular thought was never completely absent from his mind, and even if it was covered with much more enticing images, Draco was always in some way thinking about his "family"; parents and insane dark lords included.

"What about them?" Harry asked, innocent in the question's naivety. Yes, what about them, all of them- Lucius, Narcissa, Voldemort- Draco already knew perfectly well what he thought about them. What would Harry think? Considering that he had been on the blasting end of at least two of those wands since he was a baby, probably the same thing as Draco.

Draco lifted his head slowly off the stone wall and looked straight into Harry's eyes. He hadn't told anyone how he felt about his familial ties; it was too dangerous and too stupid to talk about such things with his friends. His thoughts, however, continued roving, and they all led to one place, clear and definite; a summarization of every feeling he had on the topic, and Draco suddenly felt very relieved that Harry wasn't his friend.

Draco took a breath, waited a beat more, and then spoke with clear finality.

"I don't want to be a Death Eater."

The mood immediately snapped and altered, and for a long moment, Harry didn't move, didn't blink, didn't think, only the soft gape of his mouth betraying the shock he felt coursing through his body. Then, suddenly, Harry shot forward, wrapping his arms around Draco's chest and neck and holding tightly, his face pressed into the smooth hollow of Draco's collarbone. Draco's hands automatically came up to rest on Harry's biceps, but as he relaxed into the unexpected embrace, he let them travel across Harry's arms to encircle his back, gripping the slender body in return and with equal relief. Draco's head came down to rest on top of Harry's and the two sat there, unmoving and unspeaking for a few suspended moments, limbs tangled together on the floor of a dim and dusty classroom.

Eventually, reluctantly, Harry dragged his arms across Draco's back and shoulders and he lifted his head from the slope of Draco's neck, his cheek briefly brushing the smooth skin of Draco's own as he rose. Draco let his arms loosen their grip on Harry's back, and the two ended up separated, though still connected through the defiance of Harry's hands as they held fast to Draco's forearms. Harry was beaming.

"Sorry, but I... I never expected to hear you say that. I didn't even know I wanted to hear you say it." Harry swallowed and caught his breath, his words flowing almost unconsciously from his lips, the urge to explain himself seemingly as hard to fight as the urge to throw himself at Draco. "You caught me completely off-guard. Are you serious? I just... I can't believe it."

Draco smiled, too, relieved that Harry was accepting, encouraging even, of his choice, and taking some devious amusement in the Gryffindor's honest and flustered state. Truthfully, Draco hadn't been aware of how much he wanted to hear himself say those words, either; he couldn't stop grinning.

"I'm serious," he said, "I don't want to be a Death Eater, and I'm not going to be one."

Harry's voice caught as if he was having difficulty processing the sudden and unexpected news he had just received- which, Draco figured, he probably was. "I... what... when..." Harry babbled, his mouth forming more words than his voice had time to make audible. "You... what about your father? What does he think about this?"

Draco sighed, the smile on his face slipping slightly. "He doesn't know." Draco paused and re-thought that statement. "Actually, he 'knows' quite the opposite. My father thinks I want to follow Voldemort. He..." Draco thought back to the letter he had received just days ago- I couldn't be more proud of you, son- and he cringed. The grip on Draco's arms tightened gently and Harry asked, "He what?"

Draco's eyes locked with Harry's and he replied, "He wants me to get the Dark Mark. He's expecting it."

Harry's brows furrowed. "Can't you just tell him how you feel? Tell him that you don't want to get it; that you don't want to be a Death Eater."

"No, he's expecting it," Draco emphasized. "He's already set a date. I got the letter two days ago- there's going to be a ceremony and Voldemort and all the other Death Eaters are going to be there. But I don't want to, Harry, I don't. I can't follow that; it's just so... wrong..."

The raw emotion in Draco's eyes, the flashing anger and growing helplessness, prompted Harry to wrap the pleading boy in another comforting embrace. The easy slide of his arms around Draco's pliant body and the strong returned pressure on Harry's back added to the sincerity of Harry's words, spoken quietly into Draco's ear, "I'll help you- you don't have to join the Death Eaters, I promise- I'll help you."

'I'll help you.' Draco had been told many wonderful things in his life, had listened to many lies and believed in many illusions, but, as Harry's breath swept across his cheek, drying the single trail of wetness to a crisp, salty line, Draco's own arms tightened, and in his mind he knew, 'Harry will help me- I don't have to be a Death Eater- Harry will help me.'

* * *

Lucius carefully lowered himself into a cold leather armchair, body stiff yet trembling with nervous excitement. His eyes never left those of the man- no, being- seating in the chair opposite him, perched like a cat on top of a wooden fence, comfortable, yet poised to strike with any merest inclination. Another tremor slithered down Lucius' body.

"Malfoy," Lord Voldemort rasped, his thin, dry lips spreading over pointed yellow teeth, "you were given an assignment. I trust it has been completed?"

Lucius swallowed and a grim smile donned his features. "Yes, my lord; that is, I sent the letter to my son, but he has yet to reply. I'm sure he's very busy with school-"

"Do not make excuses for that boy." Lucius' mouth clamped shut. "It does not take much time or effort to answer a letter, and I'm sure that Draco has plenty of both to spend in that poor excuse for a school. I am wary of this plan, Lucius-"

"It is an excellent plan, my lord-"

"Silence!" Voldemort's eyes sparked an angry red and Lucius was instantly quieted. "I know it is an excellent plan; one of my best. But having an excellent plan and a plan that works are two very different things, my faithful servant. Draco does not fill me with the fatherly pride that has blinded you, and his shortcomings are visible even at this early stage." Lucius opened his mouth to offer his insights, but was silenced with a commanding look from his master. "I have not, however, given up on your pride and joy," Voldemort continued, face twisting in what could only be described as maniacal glee. "I simply need some reassurance. Can you provide that for me, Lucius?"

"Yes, of course, my lord. Anything." Lucius bowed his head slightly in acquiescence.

Voldemort's lips disappeared completely in a mockingly pleased smile. "Good."

* * *

"Hey, Harry!"

Harry paused with one hand reaching for the portrait hole and glanced back at the Gryffindor common room, eyes searching for the person who had halted his escape. Hermione was gesticulating at him as she weaved her way past a couple of first years near the entryway. She stopped once she had reached Harry, placing one hand on his arm in a protective manner. Harry tried not to grimace too obviously.

"Yes, Hermione?" he asked.

"Where are you going? It's already 10:30- curfew's in half an hour." Hermione's eyebrows drew together curiously.

Harry smiled tightly. "I'm just going out, to be alone for a while. You know, like I told you the other day at breakfast."

"But you were out dreadfully late last night, as well. Maybe you should stay in tonight?" Hermione looked hopeful.

"Not tonight, Hermione- It's been a long day, and I just need to walk around for a while. Alone." When Hermione didn't seem convinced, Harry sighed and tried appealing to her fastidious side. "Look, I have the invisibility cloak," Harry pulled out one shrunken corner of the silvery material to verify his claim, "so I'm not going to get caught. Don't worry about it." His lips quirked, pleading with her to believe him- after all, he wasn't planning on getting caught.

Hermione glanced down at the cloak and then back into Harry's tense expression. Her eyes bore into his for a moment and her hand gripped the sleeve of his jacket with stern forcefulness, tightening once as she opened her mouth to suggest again that Harry stay in the common room, but instead her mouth fell shut and her hand loosened its grasp, slowly sliding off his arm.

"Okay, Harry. Just don't be too long." Hermione spoke quietly, almost whispering her instruction. Harry then truly grinned and nodded, before patting her once on the shoulder and stepping out into the hallway, his shadow disappearing with focused swiftness.

Hermione stood by the open portrait hole for a long while after he left, peering into the empty hall, watching the flickering wall candles, and thinking.

* * *

Harry ran a hand through his tousled hair as he entered the loud, colored club, a blast of sweaty air blowing across his face with the door's wide entrant swing. He took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the unique interior-Rockin' Raps Nite, read the latest flashy banner- and then immediately glanced to his left, a small smile lighting his face as he began his journey across the lengthy bar. Near the end, at Harry's usual spot, stood Draco, his back to the busy dance floor and torso leaning across the small counter. The blonde made a circular gesture with one hand and the bartender across from him nodded before turning to grab a couple of tall glasses and occupying himself with the array of neon liquids scattered behind the bar. Draco watched for a moment, leaning his bare forearms on the stained surface in front of him and causing his tight black tee to stretch, the material riding slightly higher above his fitted dragonhide pants. Harry turned his body to squeeze between two oblivious (drunk) patrons, gaze fixed on the Slytherin posed before him and grin widening as Draco's attention wavered from the bar and quickly latched on to Harry, close-fit jeans sitting low and snug vintage shirt raising high as he made his way between the clusters of giggling, groping people. Eventually, Harry was able to carve a path and stopped only when he reached Draco, resting a palm and his lower back against the wooden bar inches from his companion's side.

"Hey," Harry greeted once he was comfortable against the familiar counter.

Draco replied, "Hey, Potter," one corner of his mouth curled amicably and turning so that he faced Harry, propping a hip against the bar next to Harry's hand.

Harry looked down briefly, a layer of fringe falling into his eyes, before lifting his head again and asking, "So... how are you?"

Draco didn't react at first, already knowing what Harry was asking about. He eventually smiled slightly and answered, "Better, thanks."

Harry smiled back, almost sympathetically. "Look, about yesterday-"

"No. Not here-" don't do this here don't ruin this haven with just you and me us talking and dancing and not fighting or thinking about my father "-please." Draco said it so softly, Harry almost lost the word in the deep beat pulsating around them, but he heard it and he understood. Harry nodded and both boys felt a wave of relief wash over their bodies. They could deal with life later- this was their time.

Two drinks were set loudly on the bar next to them and Draco turned his head to the pair of bright red glasses resting patiently on the counter for him. "Look- drinks." Draco's voice picked up and his face lit with true enjoyment. Harry's grin returned as he peered at the identical glasses in instant recognition.

"Atlantic Passion? I had no idea you were so fruity," Harry teased.

Draco barely noticed Harry's comment and eagerly grabbed one of the drinks, taking a long savory sip of the cherry-flavored liquid, eyes closed and a satisfied groan rising from his chest at the taste.

"Cherries are my favorite," Draco explained once he had stopped his essential molestation of the tall, now half-empty glass in his hands.

Harry laughed once, eyes wide and glued to Draco. "Yes, I can see that." Harry glanced back to the bar at the single drink still resting on the tabletop, and then brought his eyes back to Draco, who was watching the Gryffindor with innocent interest.

"And who's that one for? Yourself as well?" Harry inquired, indicating the drink behind him.

Draco finally set his glass down on the bar, but kept his fingers wrapped securely around the base. His eyes glittered.

"No, it's actually for my smart, funny, talented, and extremely sexy friend." Draco paused and Harry's eyes narrowed. "But since you're here, I guess you can have it." Draco smirked and took another drink.

Harry smiled back and reached for his glass. "You're too kind, Malfoy."

Draco brought a finger to his lips. "Don't tell anyone."

Harry rolled his eyes and both boys turned their attention to their drinks, Harry downing half and Draco finishing his cup. A thin film of the red liquid coated Draco's lips, and he licked them hungrily, placing his empty glass back on the counter with a final thunk. Harry set his down, too, though with more care so as not to spill the remaining alcohol. Draco ran his tongue across his lips once more and then spoke, excitement and anticipation burning in his eyes.

"Let's dance."

Harry looked down at his half-full glass and opened his mouth to respond, but Draco assertively grabbed his arm and pushed him away from the bar so that he stumbled a few steps forward. Draco placed a hand on his back, and with the other he swiftly grabbed Harry's abandoned drink and gulped it down before the other boy could turn around. Satisfied, electrified, and anxious, Draco put more pressure on Harry's back and stepped up flush behind him.

"Go," Draco commanded, warm breath skimming the back of Harry's left ear and side of his face. Harry let out a small gasp, and with Draco's hands and body pushing at his back, he went.

In the chill of the night

I can feel my heart racing

As I run towards the light

That seems so far away

Wandering forever

In the darkest of shadows

Wondering if I will ever see you again

Wondering if I will ever see you again

Past the outskirts of the dance floor, past the bumping bodies, past the grinding partners and the groping couples, Harry and Draco wove their way across the trampled wood, Draco's insistent hands and body leading them to a final parting in the myriad of limbs and stopping, encased by walls of sweaty, rolling flesh. Harry's hands were shaking, anticipating, wondering, eager to move and dance with the body so close behind him. Draco released a trembling breath on the nape of Harry's neck, and Harry shivered.

I'll take your love

(I'll take your love)

I'll take your hate

(Take your hate)

I'll take your desire

The song was slow and hedonic, a deep, driving beat overlain with waves of rhythmic intimacy. The demanding bass washed over Harry and Draco's bodies in identical tremors, pulsating through their chests to spread across the rest of their limbs on trails of warm, heady bloodflow.

Allowing the music to pull on his senses, Harry closed his eyes, and then made to turn around, to face Draco, but a strong hand at his waist halted the attempt. The fingers squeezed gently, and Harry's eyelids slid slowly open as Draco's other hand rode leisurely down, stroking along his back in a path to the soft curve of muscle around his hipbone, fingertips grasping at the hem of his shirt and the thick, scratchy material of his jeans. A beat more, and Harry's eyes shot fully open as Draco began to move behind him, brushes of the blonde's legs, chest and hips at Harry's back, and the hands on his sides effectively tightening and releasing with each beginning sway. Harry focused on the lingering movements as they grew more confident and uninhibited, and slowly, reverently, he started to match them, rocking and waving in a mirror image of Draco's fervid body. Harry and Draco built up a defined rhythm, Draco's confident thrusts and rotations met by Harry's own as the beat filled their senses, heightened by the electrified patches of skin on both where their bodies met and flowed seamlessly together- Draco's chest flat against Harry's back, the dragonhide of his pants braced hard against Harry's rough fitted jeans, Draco's hips grazing the base of Harry's spine and lower, and pale, clenching hands sliding slowly forward across Harry's tight, lean stomach.

I'll take the world

When it turns on you

(When it turns on you)

I'll set it on fire

Draco's hands at Harry's hips shifted with the dance, catching on the soft cotton of Harry's tee and occasionally running across hot, smooth skin as they moved boldly forward. Harry felt Draco's hands in their slow advance, encircling his torso, and he had to touch, to feel something of that roving embrace- as he pressed his body backward and forward inside Draco's arms, his hands moved up, one to catch at Draco's forearm on its path across his abdomen, and one to travel higher, to tangle in his own jet-black hair, tipping his head slightly back as he moved. Draco's hands lay flat against the hard front of Harry's stomach, encasing the rolling body in his slender arms and bringing the two achingly closer. His bottom hand, during its trek, had slithered its way beneath Harry's shirt and now pressed, hot and full, against Harry's tingling stomach, the skirting fingers causing Harry's breath to catch and quicken, and his own hands to tighten their fierce holds.

Digging in the dirt

I can feel you getting closer

Steadying my hands through the blistering pain

Anxiously waiting for the earth to reveal you

Wondering if I will ever see you again (see you again)

Wondering if I will ever see you again

Draco saw and felt Harry's clenching fingers, the hastened rise and fall of his chest, and the gyrating swings of his legs, hips, and torso, and his own breath caught, gasping across the sensitive back of Harry's neck as his fingers danced along with their bodies, sliding across the smooth, taut skin in time with their movements. His chest and hips pressed harder against Harry's pliant body as the Gryffindor leaned back, stretching his torso steadily into Draco's, and the definite, fiery contact sent both boy's senses reeling, lightning shooting through their veins as they continued to move, flush and hot against one another, and still the fingers danced.

I'll take your love

(I'll take your love)

I'll take your hate

(Take your hate)

I'll take your desire

The beat continued its rhythmic assault upon the two, and their bodies complied, each thrust, slide, and swing in perfect, amative sync. Draco was gasping now, his skin lit as it pushed against Harry's, and his fingers grasping on the cloth or flesh in their reach each time Harry's hips rolled back to press against his- right there- and his body was screaming for more. Draco's head fell forward to rest on the base of Harry's neck, his fast breath cooling and tightening the skin now only spaces away from his parted lips, and Draco felt Harry's body jump in pleased surprise. As he pressed against Draco's body behind him, Harry's nerves accordingly set fire to his skin and senses, and as Draco's breath moved that much closer to his neck, Harry moved his hands, one to slide across Draco's forearm to wrap around the pale knuckles grasping at his stomach, and the other to comb back, out of his own hair to tangle in the strands at the back of Draco's head, silky and fine in his desperate caress.

I'll take your heart

I'll take your pain

(I'll take your pain)

I'll bring you to life

I'll bring you to life

Draco's eyes closed, feathery lashes sending another light shiver down Harry's spine, and Draco pulled the slender body in front of him tighter against his chest. Their torsos crushed together and Harry's hips rocked back with Draco's, grinding against the tough dragonhide and making Draco's lips open in astonishment- absolutely fucking incredible- and causing his nails to dig roughly in Harry's clenching stomach. Draco's head rose slightly from the base of Harry's neck, his forehead and lips running up the tan skin and through the dark, tangled hair, and Harry's fingers gripped at the back of Draco's head, his tongue darting out to run across full, gasping lips. Another beat, another thrust, another grind, and Draco's head turned, his lips stroking softly against the shell of Harry's ear, and Harry pressed back harder, and Draco couldn't hold back any more.

"Harry."

It was a breath of a whisper, spoken against the smooth curves and ridges of Harry's ear, and Draco kept his mouth there, still and panting across hair and neck and cheek, until the intoxicating pressure in his arms and across his body paused and moved forward.

Draco opened his eyes.

I'll take your love

(I'll take your love)

I'll take your hate

(Take your hate)

I'll take your desire

Harry turned slowly around, moving away from Draco, so when he finally faced the staring blonde, there was a clear foot of space between them, the only connection through their intense green and silver gazes. The pair stood, sweating and gasping for air, as the beat continued thrumming through the club, pounding on the off-beats of their racing hearts. The air crackled between them, their mixed heat carried on quick, panting breaths, and they stared, the heady music filling a silence of flushed cheeks and parted lips.

One beat more, and Harry broke his gaze.

I'll take your love

(I'll take your love)

I'll take your hate

(Take your hate)

I'll take your desire

Harry lunged into Draco, raw need and passion destroying all coherence and providing them both with the grace to align and crash their lips together- lips that trembled with the sweet, hard impact, lips that were slickened and consensually opened under swift, probing tongues, lips that pulled and sucked and tasted vaguely of alcohol and cherries- and their eyes finally fell closed.

Harry drank deeply from Draco's lips, one hand buried in his blonde strands and the other locked around his sloping waist, both of Draco's hands clenched tightly around Harry's back, pressing their bodies together. The kiss was desperate and revealing, their lips parting after the first few moments of contact, and Draco's tongue darted out to run across Harry's full bottom lip, before delving into his mouth with fierce vehemence. Harry met Draco's tongue with his own, entwining and stroking with growing passion, bruising lips and clenching fingers on soft, heated skin. One more lick, and Harry pulled back to devour Draco's mouth once more, easing their previous force into a more sensual exploration, their mouth tilting and opening together, tongues brushing in intimate flicks and breaths coming faster and faster through their noses and occasionally separated lips. Harry's hand gripped tighter at the back of Draco's head and he pulled Draco's lower lip into his mouth, biting gently before releasing it and turning his head to kiss the sensitive skin just below Draco's jawbone. Harry's lips pressed against Draco's neck, and he licked, sucked, and bit a path upwards to the ridge of Draco's hairline. A throaty whimper escaped from Draco's abandoned mouth, breathed into Harry's hair, and Harry pulled his head back, lips barely grazing the shell of Draco's ear. Harry released a heavy breath and then whispered his answer to Draco's previous, unasked question.

"Draco."

Draco released a heady breath and then his head immediately dipped, his lips catching Harry's once more and holding, locked in embrace, timeless and perfect as the song gradually faded out through the speakers and a new beat began, and Harry and Draco didn't move.

I'll take your heart

I'll take your pain

(I'll take your pain)

I'll bring you to life

* * *

Miles away, peering after the quickly dissipating outline of a large eagle owl, Voldemort smiled.