Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All credit goes to J.K. Rowling.
AN: Revamped (pardon the pun), this story is about fickle Harry Potter and the creatures of the night (aka: vampires and werewolves and any other fictional creature). It is set AU from the wizarding world, so a different type of "magic" will take place.
Warnings: language, violence, BL intimacyBlood Fest
By Duchess of Darkness
Harry Potter lifted a brow as he stared warily at his red-haired friend as he sat down in the chair in front of his desk, something folded in his hand. He had been friends with this young man long enough to know that whenever he had that ridiculous grin on his face and sat backwards in that chair with his foot tapping rhythmically, something was going on in his head, and it usually meant that he would get dragged along.
Ronald Weasley snapped open whatever he was holding and slid it across Harry's desk, tapping it with a finger. "We're going to that tonight."
Harry glanced down at the paper before him and snorted, shoving it away. "No."
It was a flier for the anniversary of some club downtown. Not one for large crowds, Harry knew that "club" meant "people" and that didn't mix with loner HP. Unfortunately, somehow, he had attracted this goofball of a redhead who loved social gatherings and clubs and parties. Anything that was worth getting smashed over, Ron tried to take Harry with him. It has been like that for the past however many years of Harry's life since he got to know the other young man, and still he tried to stay away from those parties.
However, because Harry and Ron were best friends (somehow, and Harry didn't know by-God-how), Harry obligated himself the duty of making sure Ron didn't go around killing himself or other innocent civilians whenever he drunk himself stupid.
Ron grinned and pushed paper back across the desk. "You know you're gonna go. C'mon, mate, let's go tonight. The place doesn't really start the partying until late into the evening anyway, so whatever homework or duties you have to do tonight you'll have a lot of time for by the time I pick you up."
Harry shook his head. "No, Ron. I'm not going to some club. You keep trying to get me to go, but I won't."
It was routine to do this, arguing back and forth like a pair of birds. Eventually Ron would win anyhow because no matter what Harry said, he learned a long time ago, all he had to do was go over to the boy's house and he could drag him away without much of a struggle.
"Ah, it'll be fun, Harry," Ron tried again. "You never go out anyway, so you might as well let me help you and give you a push into things."
The black-haired boy snorted. "Hah, as if. You always land yourself into trouble, Ron, and I always get dragged into it because you can't bail yourself out. Remember the time when you nearly attacked a police officer?"
Ron blushed at the memory. Okay, so maybe he was a little tipsy... It was because that one girl rejected him so coldly earlier that night! "Oh, don't hold it against me, mate. I promise not to drink myself silly if you come with me. You can be, er, like my drunk-o-meter and tell me when to stop, okay?"
Harry looked his friend up and down, pushing his glasses up his nose. "You have a death wish, Ron, I swear. But, I'll consider joining out if it'll cut down your drinking. You're worse than your brothers combined!"
The redhead cheered, ignoring that last comment about him and his brothers. It was true, the twins George and Fred were a little eccentric whenever it came to clubs and drinking, but only because they had no fear of whatever punishment their mother would deliver upon them, and it always was an excuse of pulling out the crazier of pranks they could set on their brother Percley who was more like a lamppost than a brother.
"Don't worry, Harry, you'll fit right in." Ron leaned over Harry's desk and tapped the flier again, drawing the boy's attention toward it. "Just look and see, it's your type of crowd. Ahaha, who would've thought that there'd be more people like you in one place?"
Harry snatched the flier up from his desk, crumpled it, and threw it at the redhead, who half-heartedly dodged it. He shooed the other boy away as their teacher came in, having that excuse to get away from the other. Halfway through the lesson, he glanced down at the crumpled up flier that was lying just inches away from his desk. He could just leave it there...
Ah, bloody hell...
Drawing the paper with his foot, he casually let his pencil slip from his fingers to the ground and made to pick it up with the flier while the teacher didn't even give him as much as a glance. As quietly as possible, he unraveled it and looked it over. He didn't really know what he was looking at if for, but he guessed that he at least wanted to know where he was going.
'Blood Fest'? What kind of name is that? Ah, oh well. If people are attracted to it, it must be a pretty good club.
Folding the paper up, he stuffed it in the back pocket of his jeans. He wasn't going to look at it until he got back home, and when he did, well, what was he going to do with it? Hang it up on his wall as say, "Hey, this was the first club I ever went to! And why is that? Because my psycho friend dragged me there, that's why"? Well, bitterness wasn't part of his nature, so no, he couldn't say that, but he could look at it more, and actually consider it worthy of his time. Even though he rarely had anything else to do but schoolwork, he didn't like going things that weren't productive. ...Okay, so the internet didn't totally count as productive with the things he did there, but it was far better than hanging around a bunch of hormone-crazy teens and drunkards that probably couldn't control themselves.
It wasn't a habit of Harry's to attract other people as he was rather shy in many cases, but whenever it came to tagging along with Ron on his gallivanting, he tended to run into dangerous people and get near-molested in public. It was also another reason why Harry never went out of his house, let alone his room since his Uncle and Aunt detested his soft features compared to their spoiled, pig-like son, his cousin Dudley.
It was curse to live with his relatives, but this was because when he was very little, Harry's parents died in a freak accident, leaving him in the custody of his Aunt and Uncle and their obese son. He detested him just as much as they hated him, and he had no problem in fending for himself since they wouldn't provide for him. They didn't care about what he did, really, as long as he stayed quiet and didn't bring trouble to their doorstep, but sometimes it was very hard to do so, so he ended up getting abused and locked in his room for as long as possible until they eventually forgot about him and he'd have to pick his way out of all the locks on his door.
That night wasn't very different. After school, Harry crept up to his room, missing Uncle Vernon by a second as the large man entered the main hallway just as Harry disappeared up the stairs. It was always a game of hide and seek, where Harry had to pretend he was the wall and stay out of everyone's way, because his uncle had a horrible temper and sometimes let it out on him just because he was conveniently in his sight.
Silently, he closed his door behind him and laid his things down on his bed. He narrowly missed dropping his things on his laptop, but thankfully, the weight of his objects, caused the mattress the bounce and the laptop to hop away from the offending backpack. Heaving a big sigh, he unhooked his belt and tossed it over the back of his desk chair, slipping off his shoes while he was at it, and threw himself onto his bed, catching the laptop as it hopped again as the mattress bounced around his weight. He had no intention of doing his homework as of yet, and he doubted that that even if he pulled it out he wouldn't get very far. Instead, he pulled that flier out from his pocket and looked it up on the internet.
Harry had to pay for everything he owned, and fortunately, he had found a job that would cover his expenses and ship all his mail and bills through his own personal mail box there. He could pay his things that way, receive his paychecks that way, and have total privacy in his working area. Luckily, he didn't have to work today so everything was cool. Unfortunately, that meant that he couldn't use it as an excuse not to go with Ron to that club tonight. Darn. Well, he couldn't back out of going with him anyway. Knowing Ron, he'd take him out in the middle of work even if he had said he was working.
Ron was very straightforward. Perhaps a little too straightforward... He could practically waltz through Harry's home like he owned because they both knew that the Dursley's wouldn't bother him as long as he didn't bother them and kept quiet and didn't touch anything. In fact, they much rather enjoyed Harry having a friend because it meant that he could keep their nephew off their hands and keep him away from the house so they didn't have to see him (not like they really did anyway whenever he wasn't out).
As always, Ron tossed a small rock at Harry's window before moving to the front door and knocking twice. It was kind of their secret way of telling each other who was at the door. Harry knew to open the door for him and lead him up before any of his relatives even bothered to answer the door. Somehow, they knew when to answer the door and when not too as well.
When Ron came and was led up to the black-haired boy's room, he was strangely dressed. Harry snapped his laptop close and pushed his things aside for both of them to sit, taking a moment to take in his friend's attire. Simply put, he was dressed in all black with the occasion of a few silver accessories here and there. His hair was even trapped under a black cap, hiding most of his bright red hair.
"What are you wearing?"
Ron looked down at himself. "It's the requirement of the club. All persons have to wear black."
Harry looked up pointedly at Ron's crown of hair. "And the hat?"
The redhead consciously touched his head. "I don't like how the lights hit it so I put on a cap." He paused to look his friend over. "You won't have to worry about that, though. So, what are you going to where?"
Even as he asked it, Ron was getting up and ripping open Harry's closet, sifting through the articles of clothing to find the perfect one. It wasn't hard to find dark colored clothing amongst the boy's closet because it was very rare that he wore anything bright against his pale skin, but it was a matter of finding the right combination and style that Ron was interested in.
In time, and a lot of trials, Ron decided on having Harry wear a pair of black leather pants with matching lace-up boots, black cut tank top and fish-net shirt with the add-on of a few weird silver accessories. Harry couldn't say that he enjoyed the look... The tank that Ron had picked out was slightly too small, so they ended up snipping the shirt almost in half, exposing his midriff, and the sides to allow some movement, along with a small snip at the top for a bit of breath-ability. The fishnet was loosely woven, the space of each niche just big enough for him to fit his pinky finger through. Ron had appropriately picked out a simple silver chain to wrap around Harry's neck multiple times like a choker, and a similar bracelet. There was a thought to add several rings as well on Harry's opposite hand, but the black-haired young man settled for one thick thumb ring with a vine-like design on it instead.
Harry felt very ridiculous in this outfit, especially when Ron had forced him to wear his contacts (which he rarely wore because they were so expensive), but he was told over and over that he would be as ridiculous as he felt if he kept his glasses on. Apparently, he looked too dorky for a "cool club" like Blood Fest with his glasses on over his outfit. So, he was necessitated into uncovering his unusual green eyes for the night.
The two left the house without a peep and drove off without Harry's relatives so much as even looking to see where he was going. Harry couldn't really decided if that was entirely a good thing, or a bad thing, but he was happy that he was given such freedom, even if in reality he was being ignored.
They rode out downtown to the packed parking lot of Blood Fest. To Harry's surprise, they easily found a free parking space and could quickly walk into the club without much hassle. He asked about it to Ron, but the redhead only laughed and led him further into the club, taking him upstairs to the upper level of the club where a bar was, the area tearing open to the first floor where the main dance floor was. The upper floor was mainly for refreshments, privacy, and a little less raunchy dancing with the mob. He could immediately thank his friend for keeping him away from the larger of crowds, but he wasn't too pleased to find out where exactly he was going.
Still, obligated, Harry let himself slip into the premise and take a seat far away from the others, yet near enough to his friend so to keep an eye on him. The bartender tried to serve him something, but Harry declined the offer, sticking to water, which was free. He sighed as he glanced over at his friend who was eager in wasting his money on booze, shaking his head at the redhead's habits. Not one to mother over things, he let the situation drop and concentrated on the music thrumming in his ears instead.
"Excuse me," a voice interrupted his thoughts.
Harry jerked in the direction of the voice to see a stunning blonde man cloaked in black standing behind him. "Uh, yes?"
The blonde smiled. "Is the seat next to you taken?"
Harry shook his head and drew his glass nearer to him, making space for the blonde to sit and order his own drink. The bartender tried once more to get Harry to buy something, but he politely declined.
"You don't drink?" inquired the blonde, glancing at his glass.
Harry consciously ran a thumb over the rim of the near empty glass. "No, I don't. I don't really like alcohol."
"Then why are you sitting here?"
Cracking an awkward smile, Harry answered, "My friend likes the bar, so I said I would stay and keep him from overflowing."
The other man nodded, returning the smile more gracefully. "How noble of you. ...So then I can assume that you don't like going out?"
Harry glanced at the other man, taking a sip of his water. "What gives you that idea?"
"Oh," he started, lightly flapping a hand at the situation, "don't get me wrong, but you just don't seem like a very out-going person. Call it intuition, if you will. I simply guessed that you let your friend drag you around places while you obligate yourself with the duty of making sure he doesn't attempt something stupid."
Harry almost laughed. "Yeah, you can say that."
The blonde smiled as he heard the laughter in Harry's voice, even though he had not laughed aloud. "...Care to share a bit of personal information?"
"Like what?" the black-haired man asked warily.
"Oh, not to worry, just your name. If you would like, I shall give you mine first. I am Draco."
Harry looked at the blonde with a quirk at the edge of his mouth. "Draco, was it? It's Harry." Awkwardly, he held out his hand to shake the blonde's.
Draco looked down at the hand for a moment before taking it, smiling up at the sparkling green eyes. "Pleasure." He turned to the bartender and added, "I'd like a Bacardi for this young man."
"Same here. Ah-wait! No, I don't drink," cried Harry.
Draco smiled. "Not to worry, you can have just a sip so you cannot possibly get drunk. It's on me."
At this, Harry became even more against the idea. "I told you, I don't drink, so it'll be wasted money. You have it."
The bartender set a glass and bottle in front of the two. Draco offered the drink to Harry with a smile still on his face. "I will. But please, as a way of meeting a new friend, even if I won't see you again after tonight, I would like for you to drink with me."
Harry was disgruntled, but he took the half-filled glass and sipped it, shuddering at the awful taste, before putting it down and downing the rest of his water. He rose his glass at the bartender for another, and shook his head, shifting the drink and bottle toward Draco. "I can't stand alcohol. Take it off me."
Draco chuckled under his breath, missed by the sound of loud music around them. "All right. Pardon me for pushing that upon you. Please, enjoy your water."
Harry nodded and stuck to his water the rest of the night, dropping his conversation and time with Draco to check up on Ron who was probably drowning in his own spit by now. Draco took the opportunity to excuse himself as well, and lost himself in the crowd just as Harry left his seat to join Ron on his end of the table and see if he was still sane.
Fortunately, he could still make out shapes, faces, and names, but Harry didn't have high hopes for the other man. He came back around to his side of the counter to find the blonde gone before he could really say goodbye to him. In his place was a simple paper that read: I hope to meet you again –Draco. He didn't know what if he would ever come back again to this place, but he would keep the note with him. He stuffed the note into his pocket and rounded back toward his friend.
Looking around, he couldn't find Draco anywhere. He almost hoped that he would see him again. He was interesting... Strange, but interesting... I wonder if I'll ever see him again...