Title: You Give Me Fever
Author: Khrystyne )
Summary: A night at the Blue Moon changes his life . . . HP/DM SLASH!! Don't like, don't read.
Rating: R - definitely not for the kiddies
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the wonderful little boys; I'm just borrowing them for my plot. And the song? Also not mine. "Fever" belongs to Ella Fitzgerald. Lovely little tune . . .
Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Warnings: slash, adult situations and themes later in the story . . . any ideas on how to sneak these by the censor-nazis??
Feedback: Yes, please! I love it like a fat kid loves cake.
Beta: The wonderful, wonderful Winde. Thank you so much, m'dear! You're the best!
Author's Notes: This little bunny popped into my head while I was watching the Lion King with my four-year-old cousin, during the "Circle of Life" song. I have no idea why, but it wouldn't go away until I wrote it. I'm so mental to start another fic when I've got five other stories to finish and an original I'm working on. Also, I've never been to a strip club, as I'm only 15 and a half, so I based the inside of this club off of the club in "Striptease" with Demi Moore. Draco's outfit was also based on Demi's outfit in the movie.

THIS IS SLASH!!! That means a relationship between two males. If this makes you uncomfortable, click the "Back" button on your browser and LEAVE NOW!!!

Chapter 1

The pounding music was barely audible, but seemed to reverberate through their beings as the two men Apparated away from any streetlights and began walking down the block to where the flashing lights could be seen.

"I still can't believe I let you talk me into coming here with you," Harry Potter sighed as they entered the parking lot. They stopped at the entrance and Harry stared up at the sign to the strip club they were about to enter. His best friend Ron Weasley clapped a hand on his shoulder as he steered him towards the doors of the Blue Moon.

"Yeah, we've established that. Get out your ID or they won't let us in," Ron instructed. They both pulled out their ID cards to show they were over 21. They just scraped by at 22 years of age.

"What does Hermione think of you coming here?" Harry demanded, hoping that bringing up Ron's fiancée would shock him into rethinking this venture of his.

"It was her idea," was the horribly depressing answer. "She says you need a guy."

"Is the whole world against me?" Harry muttered.

"No, mate, just your friends," Ron replied cheerfully. "Welcome to the Blue Moon, the only gay strip club in the area."

"Oh, you'll never know how I feel," Harry told him wryly. Ron chuckled and led him to a table near the stage as a tall man with a long brown wig left the stage to lukewarm applause.

"Ladies and gentlemen, sit tight and get ready, because our next dancer is the most sought-after man we have dancing for us! Please give a warm welcome for . . .the White Dragon!" shouted an out-of-sight announcer. Harry looked around him as he clapped half-heartedly; he and Ron seemed to be the only ones doing so. All the other men and the few women in the club were whistling and cheering as a figure slunk into the shadows at the back of the stage.

"Mate, you gonna get out your money?" Rom hissed as the spectators around them squirmed in anticipation in their seats.

"Do I have to?" Harry whispered in reply.

"Don't be stingy!"

"Don't be stupid!"

Ron sighed in exasperation, but fell quiet as sultry music flooded the room. The lightly throbbing bass, snapping fingers, and low, flickering lights created a rather seductive environment, Harry decided, and he sat up a little straighter as the figure came forward into the single white spotlight shining onto the stage. Harry's breath caught in his throat as his eyes landed on the dancer.

"Never know how much I love you

Never know how much I care

When you put your arms around me

I get a fever that's so hard to bear . . ."

The dancer was a lithe young blonde man, his hair loose and falling about his face, the silky strands caressing his skin. His mesmerizing silver- grey eyes were lined with black liquid eyeliner and lightly brushed with brown eye shadow, everything topped off with a dash of silver glitter. The combination of the eye makeup made this pale, beautiful young man seem very exotic, extremely desirable, and altogether unreachable. He was wearing a very tight little number: skintight black short-shorts that left little to the imagination, a white silk button-down dress shirt, black tie, and suit jacket. He had a black hat perched atop his head, cockily tilted, and he was barefoot. Harry couldn't take his eyes off him.

"You give me fever

When you kiss me

Fever when you hold me tight

Fever! In the morning

Fever all through the night . . ."

Harry stared at the dancer, his emerald eyes drinking up the sight. The dancer turned and locked eyes with Harry. He faltered in his steps, but made up for the misstep with a high kick and wrapping his leg around the pole at the front of the stage, sliding down to lay flat on his back on the floor, then grabbing the pole and pulling himself up. The dancer captured Harry's eyes again and they stared into each other's souls as the young man's sexy dance continued. He pulled his hat off and tossed it into Harry's lap, his platinum blonde locks now unrestrained.

"Sun lights up the daytime

Moon lights up the night

I light up when you call my name

And you know I'm gonna treat you right . . ."

Harry glanced down at the hat now in his lap and fingered the black silk fabric of it. He looked up in time to see the young man bend backward into a painful-looking bridge shape. He kicked one leg, then the other, into the air and slowly split them so they were horizontal. Just as agonizingly slowly, the dancer tipped forward. His left leg landed first and stayed stationary as his right slid forward into a perfect split. Cheers and catcalls floated through the air as he swung his front leg behind him and flipped onto his stomach, slowly rolling his body up and giving Harry the perfect opportunity to study the young man's arse. He turned and again stared into Harry's eyes.

"You give me fever

When you kiss me

Fever when you hold me tight

Fever! In the morning

Fever all through the night . . ."

Slowly the tie became undone and the young dancer pulled it from his neck, looping it around the pole and using it to spin around the pole, sinking as he did so. Suddenly, he yanked himself up and ripped the tie from the pole, flinging it out into the audience, conveniently enough, directly at Harry's feet. Harry glanced down at it and bent over to pick it up, dragging his fingers over the black silk of the tie.

"Everybody's got the fever

That is something you all know

Fever isn't such a new thing

Fever started long ago . . ."

The dancer made sure the pole was out of his way and flipped backward, landing on his hands, then his feet, before slipping down into a straddle split. (A/N: See below.) He rolled forward and up into a handstand and stayed there, perfectly balanced. The young man finally tipped over and landed on his back. He rolled up and spun twice, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. He slipped it from his shoulders and glanced towards his drooling spectators. Last moment, he decided to throw it in another direction . . . with the rest of his clothes, the silk shirt landed on Harry.

"Romeo loved Juliet

Juliet, she felt the same

When he put his arms around her

He said, 'Julie, baby, you're my flame

Thou givest fever

When we kisseth

Fever with thy flaming youth

Fever! I'm a fire

Fever, yea, I burn forsooth . . .' "

Harry pulled the shirt from his head to glue his eyes back onto the lean figure now performing another double back handspring. The vague thought By the end of the dance, am I going to have his whole outfit in my lap? ran through his head, but he dismissed it immediately, deciding he didn't care whether he did or not, as the blonde dancer quickly spun around the pole, landing in a smooth split.

"Captain Smith and Pocahontas

Had a very mad affair

When her daddy tried to kill him

She said, 'Daddy, no, don't you dare

He gives me fever

With his kisses

Fever when he holds me tight

Fever! I'm his missus

Daddy, won't you treat him right?' "

Despite the fact he was in a gay strip club with his heterosexual best friend snoring lightly in the chair next to him, Harry found himself eagerly awaiting what the sexy blonde dancer - he refused to call him a stripper, although that was, in fact, what he was - would perform next. His musings were rewarded when the young man strode right up to the edge of the stage, right in front of Harry, and, emerald eyes locked with silver, sank into another straddle split, staring into the depths of Harry's soul for a few moments before rolling onto his back and kicking one leg up by his ear. Harry sucked in a breath at the sheer flexibility of the beautiful young man.

"Now you've listened to my story

Here's the point that I have made

Chicks were born to give you fever

Be it Fahrenheit or Centigrade

They give you fever

When you kiss them

Fever, if you live, you learn

Fever! Till you sizzle

What a lovely way to burn . . ."

The dancer swiftly brought his leg back down and smoothly stood up, walking backwards a few steps, nearly half the length of the stage. With an amazing ability, he leapt forward and landed on his hands in a handstand, splitting his legs immediately and tipping forward. He flexed his foot as it hit the floor and pushed back to land on his back foot. He pushed off again and balanced, his legs scissoring in the air. Finally, he slid down to land in a split. After a moment, he brought his back leg to meet his front and rolled over his back into another handstand. He landed in a lunge and dove forward into a roll, leaping up at the end to cling to the pole. He spun around and sat on the floor. Gazing deeply into Harry's eyes once again, he walked purposefully backward as the song came to an end.

"What a lovely way to burn

What a lovely way to burn

What a lovely way to burn

What a lovely way to burn . . ."

As the last notes approached, the lights dimmed and all that could be seen of the talented young dancer was a barely perceptible outline. When the song ended, the lights on the dancer were turned off completely and the tight black shorts were flying through the air towards Harry's table. The dancer's calculations seemed to be slightly off, as the impossibly small article of clothing came hurtling at Ron. Harry's Seeker instincts kicked in from his seven years of Quidditch at Hogwarts and his hand darted out to snatch the shorts inches from Ron's face. Ron awoke with a start to tumultuous cheers and applause.

"What happened?" he asked sleepily, yawning. He looked over when Harry didn't answer and raised an eyebrow when he saw the blonde's outfit lying in Harry's lap. Harry's face burned red and he stood up, mumbling something about returning the clothing to the lithe dancer. There was something about him that Harry couldn't quite put his finger on . . .

A/N from above: "The dancer . . . flipped backward, landing on his hands, then his feet, before slipping down into a straddle split." This, minus the straddle split, is called a back handspring for those of you that don't know. A double back handspring is rather self-explanatory. You just flip backwards and et cetera twice.

A/N: So . . . what d'you think? I was planning on writing more but if this chapter sucks, tell me so and I'll probably keep writing, but I won't waste my time by posting here. If you like it, make me happy and leave a review! If you don't, please tell me why, but don't be mean. If you're planning to flame 'cause of one reason or another (i.e. you don't like the pairing the scenario, etc.), why the hell are you wasting your time? Go read something else!