Hernando's Hideaway

Hernando's Hideaway

© OnceUponACrime

Chapter One

Castanets

Las Vegas. Sin City. The only place where you'll find as many prostitutes as there are neon lights. My home. My name is Draco Malfoy. Don't laugh at the eccentrics of my parents or you just might end up sharing a grave with the last guy who thought my name was funny. Stupid Weasel.

"So how was it, Draco?" I'm aroused out of my somewhat drunken stupor by the drawling voice of Pansy Parkinson--who, contrary to popular belief, I am not dating--and am a little shocked at how absolutely awful her voice sounds when she drawls. Really, only guys should be allowed that pleasure. "Your trip, I mean," she clarifies, taking a sip of her martini and playing idly with the beaded fringe on the bottom of her dark green slip dress.

Intriguing? Exciting? Different? Homo-erotic? The last one, definitely.

"It was..." I smirk, my mind daring me to say homo-erotic or anything somewhat close to that. "... a new experience." Close enough. Everyone at the table is staring at me intently. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle stop messing with the dancers they bought drinks for and stare at me rather vacantly. Pansy is smirking and pulling her dress up her thighs, letting me see her lacy garter belt. Blaise Zabini is also looking at me, trying to pay attention, but I can tell he's got something else struggling for control of his mind. The glassy look in his eyes lets me know that that something unseen could use some heavy petting right about now.

"Well? Don't leave us hanging here!" Pansy almost screeches. I cast a sideways glance at Blaise. Too late for that bastard; he's already hung. I smirk partially because of my bad pun--which I thought was rather clever--and partially because I've now got everyone eating out of the palm of my hand.

"Buy me a drink, love, and I'll tell you," I drawl at Pansy. Now that's how you drawl. She nods her head and rushes over to the bar. For the moment, everyone seems to go back to what they were doing.

"Vincent!" Stripper Number One squeals, tapping the lug's nose. They must be drunk. Either that or heavily sedated. Disgusted, I turn my attention to the people on the dance floor a level below us. Glenn Miller's new hit, "In The Mood", is being played by the lively orchestra. Dozens of couples are swing dancing to the abhorrently catchy tune. Even I find myself tapping my right foot in time with the music. I'm tempted to dance, but the thought of my friends going catatonic tells me I really shouldn't. You see, it just wouldn't do for a Malfoy to dance, especially not to something so happy. Instead, I sit in the smoking lounge and wait for Pansy to return with my drink. Ah, here she is.

"I got you a double martini, dry, no olive. Just the way you like it," she says, giving me quite a peep show down the front of her dress in the process. I take a sip and smile graciously. She resumes her seat, trying to inconspicuously scoot her chair closer to mine. Crabbe, Goyle, Strippers One and Two, and Blaise all turn their attention back to me.

"Well, I suppose it all started with castanets..."

~*~

"Ciao il bambino, desidera avere certo divertimento?"

"Guardi i seni su quell'!"

"Allora gli ho detto che, se non lo pagate, io deste dei calci al vostro asino ubriaco all'esterno."

The night was young in Verona, Italy, and the people surrounding Draco Malfoy were talking in rapid Italian. He couldn't understand a word of it, but had a feeling he wasn't missing much. He was, after all, in one of Verona's seediest night lounges.

"Hit me." He held his shot glass out at the bartender. The middle aged man looked at the blond with concern.

"Sorry sir, but I cut you now," he said in broken English. Draco sighed. He wasn't nearly as drunk as he'd like to be and already the bars were refusing him a way to escape. He placed the Italian equivalent of five American dollars in the bartenders hand and left the lounge.

The cool night air hit his face and made him shiver. He wandered aimlessly for a few minutes, not being sober enough to pay attention to where he was going. He sighed and came to rest against a dark looking building. He let his forehead touch the cold stone and fleetingly wondered where he was. There were no lights anywhere except for the flickering sign of a strip joint. Crumpled newspapers, cigarette butts, and broken liquor bottles lined the presumable alleyway. Somehow, he had wandered into an even worse part of town.

A large man was yelling somewhere in the distance. Draco could only see the silhouette of the man's body. He was holding the wrist of a voluptuous female silhouette very close to his ear. The girl tried to squirm away. The man threw her down on the ground. Draco could see the male silhouette taking off his shadow of a pair of pants and was glad that he couldn't actually make out anything more than shapes. If he had been sober, he might've tried to stop this man from raping the girl, but he wasn't sober, and something else was catching his attention and drowning out the screams of protest coming from the girl.

Somewhere, Draco couldn't tell where from, someone was playing the castanets in a very enticing manner. Draco edged to his right, they were getting louder. Keeping his hands on the building, he walked blindly to his right. When he reached the spot where there should've been a corner and a dead end to Draco's search he found something else instead. A warm breath quickly grazed his neck and a swish of silk skimmed his right hand. Draco breathed sharply as a lanky silhouette came into view, only to disappear again. The castanets started again, moving farther away from Draco.

Breathing quickly, he quickened his pace. He had found the source of the castanets and now they were getting away. Draco wouldn't let that happen. There was no longer a wall for him to rest his hands upon. In fact, there wasn't anything around him, just pure darkness. The castanets were clicking furiously in front of him. They filled Draco's senses until he thought they would explode. Their sound swirled around his feet and prompted him onward. If anything was happening around him, he didn't notice. The only sound he heard was castanets; the only thing he saw was the memory of the lanky silhouette.

Then it happened: silence. Draco stood in the darkness, breathing as if he'd just run a marathon. His heart was pounding in his ears and his throat was dry. A small breeze passed on his left and Draco froze. The castanets clicked twice behind him. Twirling around violently, Draco saw the lanky silhouette for two seconds more. Adrenaline coursed through his body.

"Just knock three times and whisper low

That you and I were sent by Joe

Then strike a match and you will know

You're in Hernando's Hideaway."

Draco's body was shaking as the silhouette spoke in rhythm with the castanets. And then it happened again: silence. Just as soon as the total darkness had fallen upon Draco, it was taken away. Two hands pushed him forcefully from the small of his back and Draco stumbled out onto a cobblestone sidewalk.

He gaped at the sight before him. A large, abandoned warehouse loomed over him menacingly. He looked around frantically for the silhouette. It was nowhere to be found. From behind him the no-longer-a-silouette of the large man emerged from the darkness. When he passed Draco he had a smirk on his round, scruffy face. The girl was no where to be seen. He walked up the few stairs that led to the steel front door and knocked three times, bent over and whispered something, and then pulled a match out of his pocket. He lit it and then threw it down at his feet. The door opened just enough so that the man could get in and then slammed shut again.

Draco gulped and made his way over to and up the stairs. This was what the silhouette had told him to do, wasn't it? He stood in front of the steel door for a minute, his mind completely blank. The sound of a cat howling somewhere down the street brought him back into reality. Taking a deep breath he knocked three times against the door, the steel hurting his knuckles. Then he bent over slightly, like the large man had done, and whispered shakily, "You and I were sent by Joe?" His mind was racing so fast that he couldn't remember if that was what he was supposed to say. Seeing as nothing had come at him yet, he figured he'd done it right. Draco searched his pockets for his matchbook. He found it in the breast pocket of his grey, pinstriped suit. There was one match left. He stared at it for a moment and then threw caution to the wind. He lit it.

The door creaked open maybe half a foot. Draco absentmindedly dropped the match, turned sideways, and scooted inside. What he saw nearly made his knees go weak. The entire place was draped in a vibrant golden light. There were no windows and no doors except for the one behind him. Out of curiosity, Draco turned around to see who had opened the door for him. An enticing blonde in a peach slip dress winked at him. He smiled half-heartedly back and walked further inside, his body and soul in complete awe.

Down the small flight of marble stairs was a pit of tables. Men in fedora hats and scantily clad women were sitting at the tables and laughing copiously. Men dressed only in black leather pants vests carried trays of drinks to and from the tables. At the very front of the building was a large stage with a golden silk curtain closed in front of it. 'Hernando's Hideaway' was stitched onto it in sparkling scarlet letters.

Draco fell into one of the smaller tables near the back of the pit. People were laughing and drinking and dancing and leaning over the balcony above him. Had he been in his right mind, he might've noticed that the men outnumbered the women at least 3 to one.

"Why would the silhouette lead me here?" Draco asked himself outloud, still taking in the vicinity. He didn't have time to think about that, however, because at that moment the blonde woman from the front door was standing in front of the curtain and started urging everyone to be silent.

"How is everyone feeling tonight?" she asked with a cocked eyebrow. Many cheered. Some grunted happily, and others pumped their fists in the air. "Yes, I bet you're feeling good." She purred. "Why wouldn't you be? You are, after all, in the best night spot in all of Italy!" she exclaimed and let out a laugh. The crowd laughed and cheered in agreement. Draco drank it all in and chuckled, quite beside himself. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, we do have a treat for you tonight!" The curtain behind her slowly started to rise. "Performing on the main stage tonight is the scandalous, the dangerous, the absolutely delectable--" She paused for dramatic purposes. "Harry Potter!"

The crowd erupted. There was a loud drum beat followed quickly by a blare from some trumpets. Every light in the building went out. With the next drumbeat the stage lit up and the orchestra pit was made visible. The set of the stage itself was nothing special. There was a sheer steel colored curtain with a precariously steep staircase protruding from the front of it. At the foot of the stairs was a platform which protruded from the stage a few feet. At the end of the protrusion was a smaller circle with a pole in the center of it.

With the next blare of the trumpets lights turned on from behind the curtain. Draco almost screamed. The silhouettethat led him there was standing behind the curtain. Bolting upright, he made his way closer to the stage, having to push through the people already crowded around the circular protrusion to get a front row view. He stared up at the figure behind the curtain anxiously. He was finally going to see his mysterious captor.

The trumpets blared once more, the drums beat 3 more times, and the curtain opened. Draco's breath caught in his throat. Behind the curtain was the most beautiful man he had ever seen. And, oh God, now he was singing.

"When the rhumba rhythms start to play

Dance with me

Make me sway."

He was making his way down the stairs, shaking his hips teasingly. The black leather pants suited him well. They matched his unruly--yet surprisingly enticing--black hair, at least.

"Like the lazy ocean hugs the shore

Hold me close

Sway me more."

He reached the bottom of the staircase now. Draco was surprised at the level of green this man, Harry Potter's, eyes were.

"Like a flower bending in the breeze

Bend with me

Sway with ease."

As he was singing about bending, he turned his back to the audience and contorted his body into a very difficult looking backbend. The kid was flexible, what can you do?

"When we dance you have a way with me

Stay with me

Sway with me."

He had pulled himself back up to normal, turned to face the crowd again, and walked towards the pole in a sort of half-strip tease/half-tango. Draco surprised himself by feeling aroused.

"Other dancers my be on the floor

Dear but my eyes will see only you

Only you have that magic technique

When we sway I grow weak."

The trumpets blared and Harry fell to his knees in front of the pole. He graciously accepted the bills that were being waved at him, and even gave a few guys a light kiss in exchange.

"I can hear the sound of violins

Long before it begins

Make me thrill as only you know how

Sway me smooth

Sway me now."

The orchestra took over about the same time Harry took over the pole, sending the crowd nothing less than positively swooning. Draco could only stare. No thoughts were running through his head. His mind--and body--were focusing solely on the man making dirty gestures to someone in his general direction from behind the pole. Something clicked in place in Draco's mind and he realized the man Harry was smirking lustfully at as he ran his hands over his body in tune to the music was him, Draco Malfoy. Never having been approached like this before, he raised his eyebrows and laughed, his cheeks flushing. One vibrant green eye winked, he licked his lips, and then went off to the other side of the stage to serenade--in Italian, even--a man who was waving quite a lot of money in the air.

Draco's mind was suddenly racing. 'I'm a guy. He's a guy. I like girls. Something is wrong here. He's very good-looking. I need to calm down. I wonder how far away the bathroom is. Maybe I don't need a bathroom... maybe he could--NO! Absolutely NOT. Unless he suddenly grows breasts and a vagina you do not, could not, will not, want to get anywhere near that close to him. Wait. What was all that on-stage stuff about? Did I just agree to something? Why did I laugh? I hope he wasn't insulted--NO. No. I don't care. He's just a stripper. A good one, but a stripper nonetheless. Damn, that other guy is lucky... gets to put his money right in Harry's pants...' Draco shook his head, mentally slapping himself for succumbing his body to the mental pictures of what might happen if it was he who was shoving money down slutty boy's pants.

"I can hear the sound of violins

Long before it begins

Make me thrill as only you know how

Sway me smooth

Sway me now."

He was now backed up against the pole, singing in low tones, a look of pure ecstasy on his face. Draco guessed it must be quite a rush to be up there performing in front of everyone. It looked like the skinny, black-haired boy really enjoyed it.

"Sway me smooth

Sway me now!"

Harry finished the song with a hip movement that made Draco's insides feel warm. The crowd--those who were still seated at the tables included--gave a standing ovation. Harry grinned broadly and started taking the money that was still being waved at him, giving each person a fleeting kiss on the lips as he did so. Draco suddenly realized that he was the only person who wasn't giving something to Harry. He noticed this, too, and gave Draco a quizzical look before mouthing something that looked to Draco like: 'Runt Oar.' and then continuing on past the somewhat hot and bothered blond.

Draco wandered aimlessly back to his seat, trying to figure out what 'Runt Oar' could possibly mean. He ordered a brandy with a twist of lemon on the rocks. It came a few minutes later and he took a sip.

"Runt oar..." he mused outloud. He looked around the room, trying to find anything that could possibly be helpful. The lights in the building were back to normal again and the stage curtain was dropped. Everyone was slowly going back to their own business, raunchy though it may be.

He took a long swig from his drink, enjoying the way the ice cubes clattered against his teeth. The pieces suddenly fit.

"Front door." Draco almost laughed. It had nothing to do with 'Runt Oar.' at all. Front door made a lot more sense, anyways. Draco chuckled at his own stupidity and downed his drink.

Smoothing his hair back, he stood up, left another Italian equivalent for five American dollars on the table, and climbed the stairs out of the pit. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

'What are you getting yourself into, Malfoy?'

~*~

I take another sip of my martini.

"Was he there?" Blaise asks, twirling a piece of his long hair around his fingertips nervously. Pansy nods silently. Crabbe and Goyle continue to look vacant, but they have stopped lumbering about with the dancers, so that means something. Not much, considering it is Crabbe and Goyle, but something nonetheless.

"He was there," I tell them nonchalantly. A wave a relief spreads over the table, only to be followed closely by a high tide of anxiousness.

"Well?" Pansy almost screeches for the second time tonight. I'll have to talk to her about how utterly revolting that is later.

"Well what?" Mind games are my specialty.

"What the hell happened?" Blaise explodes. I smile calmly.

"Nothing much, really. When I opened my eyes, he was there--true to his word--taking slow drags from his cigarette."

I notice Pansy smiling at the mental image. "What was he wearing?" she asks cautiously, her hand subconsciously grazing her inner thigh.

"Hmm... baggy black pants with suspenders grazing the tight red wifebeater underneath. And he also had on a black fedora with a matching red feather in it. It was very... becoming." I can't help but smirk at the memory.

"Did you go up to him?" Blaise asks.

"Yes."

"What happened?" The entire table seems to scoot in closer.

"He took me into his arms and we went backstage to his private dressing room and made hot, passionate, love all night long." I like use a few careless hand gestures when I talk.

"Really?" Pansy was all but panting.

"No." I look at each of them in turn. Pansy and Blaise look disappointed, almost. Crabbe and Goyle appear to have defied all the laws of science and are actually grunting in understanding.

"Good one, Draco," Goyle says.

"You can comprehend. My world is utterly loopy. No, Blaise, actually, we talked." I like to change who I'm talking to randomly. Keeps people on their toes, you know?

"You... talked." Blaise looks reprimanding.

"What about?" Pansy has finally gained enough control over herself to speak. Good job, love.

"That, doll, is another story for another time. What do you say we meet at your place tomorrow, same time, and I'll continue my story?" Everyone agrees exuberantly. Blaise sneaks off to the bathroom as Pansy lights up a cigarette. She offers me one and I accept. Grotesquely wonderful habit, smoking is. When Blaise comes back Pansy decides she'd like to dance with him, and they descend to the lower level. Crabbe and Goyle leave with their dancers, muttering something about private places. Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting. I'm shuddering just thinking about it.

This leaves me blissfully alone. I prop my feet up on the table, lace my fingers behind my head, and lean back, eyes closed. My mind has, yet again, led me into a private reverie with Harry Potter.