This idea came from two things: #1. My 18th outting, and #2. A dream I had two nights after...


Just to be clear, I'm not giving up on my other fics, I just know where I'm going with this one and I hope to have it finished in under a month seeing as it will be a threeshot. I had to write it down so I could clear my mind; this time idea wouldn't go away when I tried to work on other stuff so I ended up writing a new fic. Again.


Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. It's my first Drarry so... it could crash and burn. Or it could turn out okayish. I don't know. I'll shush now.



Part One: the Alley

Harry stood in front of his wardrobe, his expression a gormless one. What the hell was he supposed to wear to a Muggle nightclub? Ron, Hermione and several other old school friends had decided that they should go out clubbing for a night, but Harry was not at all up for the idea; he hated dancing.

Ever since he'd got his job at the ministry, his life had just... lost its spark. It was two years since Harry had defeated Voldemort and he was bored beyond belief. He hadn't had a relationship in years... since Ginny in his sixth year, and he felt strangely lonely. His friends had tried numerous times to get him to go out with them, but he always turned them down. This time, however, they'd used blackmail. They found out he was gay – Merlin knows how – and threatened to leak that fact to the Daily Prophet, which was what he didn't need. He figured they probably wouldn't do such a thing in fear of putting him in a worse state than he was already in, but he was not willing to take such a risk. So, it was with this piece of information that they had blackmailed him with in order to get him to go clubbing with them.

"I'm going to kill you, Ron," he muttered to himself. He heaved a sigh before reaching in to grab some clothes at random. It turned out he had picked out some faded, torn jeans and an old blue t-shirt. He scrambled out of his pyjamas – yes, he'd had a pyjama day – and got changed into his chosen outfit. He then went to the mirror in his bathroom where he looked despondently at his untameable hair.

"Just lie flat for tonight, please?" he asked it wistfully as he attempted to comb it down. However, his efforts were in vain; his hair just did not want to be tamed. After several more fruitless attempts he decided he was fighting a losing battle, so decided he should just wait in his living room until Ron came to collect him with the guys.

After five long minutes of waiting impatiently, there was a low whooshing sound and Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan and Ron Weasley stepped through the green flames in his fireplace. The three boys were dressed in very suave outfits; Ron was acquiring a tight-fitted white shirt and black trousers, Dean was in a waistcoat and black trousers also, whereas Seamus had chosen the 'bad boy' look with leather trousers and a leather jacket.

"Harry! Good to see you, mate!" Ron cried, clapping Harry on the back.

"Alright, guys? How are you all?" Harry said, a grin on his face as he greeted his old friends.

"I'm great, it's been a while, how are you?" Dean said as he shook Harry's hand.

"Yeah, not too bad, thanks."

Harry then turned to Seamus who was staring at him intently.

"Hey, Seamus," greeted Harry lightly.

"You know we're going clubbing right?" Seamus asked in his thick Irish accent.

"Uh, yeah... Why?"

"You can't wear jeans!" he said exasperatedly. "They won't let you in!"

"What? Rubbish! That's a load of bull," Harry said defensively, though he squirmed in his old jeans nervously.

"It's not! It's a well known fact!"

"Ah, shame. I suppose you guys had better go on without me then," Harry said in mock disappointment, and he flopped down onto his sofa.

"Oho, no you don't," Ron said quickly, heaving Harry back up. "You're going out. That's final. Seamus, he's fine, shut your trap." Seamus looked most put out but didn't say another word.

Reluctantly, Harry allowed himself to be Apparated away to the chosen nightclub. He tried with all his might to take his mind off how much he wanted to go home in fear of splinching himself and Ron who was his Apparating partner.

After the sickly, compressing feeling, Harry opened his eyes to find himself in an old alleyway.

"We just need to wait for 'Mione, Lav and the Patils," Dean told Harry, who nodded.

Finally the girls arrived and Harry was beyond shocked. Lavender was in a pair of very short shorts with a lacy vest top with nothing but her bra underneath. Harry recoiled at the sight; some people had no shame. The Patil twins, on the other hand, looked rather nice, Harry thought. They were in matching saris, though Padma's was purple and Parvati's was an electric blue. And then his focus came to rest on Hermione. She was wearing a stunning black satin dress which stopped just above the knee.

"Wow," Harry said. "You all look... amazing."

"Too right," Seamus said, eyeing up Lavender.

"Mhm," Ron nodded eagerly as he gazed at Hermione who blushed under the scrutiny.

"Come on, lets get in the queue," she said, a grin tugging at her lips.

Harry scuffed his shoe on the ground, his hands deep in his pockets and let out a low sigh. Waiting in a queue – for what was nothing more than a disco for adults – outside on a freezing cold night was not how he'd wanted to spend his evening. Ron, Seamus, Dean, Hermione, Lavender and the Patil twins, meanwhile, were all bouncing excitedly on their toes or craning their necks to see how many more people were ahead of them.

"I reckon we'll be inside in a good five minutes," Ron said giddily.

"I bloody well hope so," Harry grumbled, wrapping his jacket around his body to protect him from the harsh bitter wind.

"Lighten up, mate!" Seamus cried, slapping Harry on the back. "It'll be worth it when we get in. Or should I say, if you get in."

"What do you mean if?" Harry snapped.

"I told you, you can't get into a nightclub with trainers, a boring old t-shirt and tatty old jeans!"

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Harry mumbled.

"He's right though, Harry," Hermione said. "And it's not all that ridiculous. The dress code is simply to make the nightclub seem more... elitist. Anyway, what if you don't get allowed in? What will you do?"

"I'll go home, that's what I'll do," Harry said, smiling at the thought of being back home, warmed up and comfortable.

"At least put his jacket on," Dean suggested, pointing at Seamus who was perving on some girls a few spaces ahead of their group. "That way you'll look reasonably dressed for a club."

Harry bared his teeth.

"You can take your damn leather and shove it up your –"

"Oooh, the line's moving!" Lavender cooed.

The Patil twins squealed, Hermione bounced happily, Seamus punched the air and Ron and Dean high-fived.

"Finally," Harry muttered.

The people in the line slowly shuffled forwards until finally their group was outside the door. There were two burly bouncers waiting on either side of the entrance and Ron strode up to them confidently before handing over their passes. Once the two door men had deemed the tickets acceptable they moved aside, watching each of Harry's friends as they ambled inside. Harry was at the back of the group so none of his friends noticed when the two men blocked his path.

"Hey! What gives?" he growled.

One of them pointed to the sign next to the door. It read:

Welcome to Silver Emeralds Nightclub.

Please follow our conditions:

No alcohol from outside to be brought into the premises.

Dress code must be semi-formal – absolutely no trainers, jogging-bottoms or jeans.

Please note: the doormen are permitted to deny entry to anybody at their discretion.

"That's bullshit!" Harry exclaimed. "Who came up with that rule anyway?"

"That rule's been in place for years, kid, now get out of my sight," said the balder one of the two brawny bouncers. He advanced on Harry who held his ground.

"At least let me in to tell my friends," he snapped. He could hear sighs and mumblings from behind him from the people who were waiting for Harry to leave so they could get in.

"No can do, now move it," the man whispered dangerously, taking hold of Harry's arm and guiding him away from the building which was pulsing with bass music.

"Get off me!" Harry shouted, attempting to pull his arm out of the meaty fingers' grip.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" drawled an all too familiar voice.

Oh, please God, no, not now, Harry inwardly moaned.

Draco Malfoy came into Harry's line of vision, along with Pansy Parkinson who was all tarted up in a skirt that might as well be a belt, Blaise Zabini in an expensive-looking suit, and Theodore Nott with his well toned abs out for all to see.

Harry swore at the sight of the Slytherins.

"Potter? Is it really you?" asked Draco with his signature smirk in place as he stood directly in front of Harry.

"No, it's Albus Dumbledore," Harry deadpanned.

"Oh, ha-ha," Malfoy droned, clapping sarcastically.

"What's going on here, anyway, Derek?" Blaise asked the man who still hadn't let go of Harry's arm. Clearly Blaise knew the place well.

"As you can see he's not in the right dress code, the rest of his friends were fine though. Plus he's annoyingly stubborn," groused the bouncer.

"Oho, so you're here with friends?" Draco said happily. "The Weasel and Granger, yes?"

"And others. Now would you please just let me go?" Harry asked Derek, shamefully embarrassed of Draco Malfoy and his cronies to have seen him denied access into a nightclub.

"Aw, leaving so soon, Potter?" Draco simpered, stepping closer to Harry. He then whispered, "I suppose without your 'Chosen One' title, you're just like the rest of us, aren't you?"

"Piss off," Harry hissed.

"Oh, no wait, you're not like the rest of us," Draco continued. "I am a Malfoy after all. That name holds connections, not only in the Wizarding world, but in the Muggle one as well. You see, Malfoy's earn their titles, they aren't just born with them, unlike some."

"I don't give a damn what your precious name means, you're still going to be the same old arrogant git that I knew throughout my school life, right?"

"Watch your tongue, Potter," Blaise warned, and Harry noticed his hand twitch as though to go for his wand.

Harry smirked wickedly and focused on Draco once more. "Ah, I see you've moved on from Crabbe and Goyle as your bodyguards then. Moved on to someone with brains now, huh?"

"What is wrong with you, Potter?" Draco asked, sounding genuinely interested. "Why the hell are you so arrogant when you're outnumbered five to one?"

"Well," Harry said nonchalantly, "I did kill Voldemort. After you face him, a group of cocky little Slytherins and a slaphead doesn't seem so scary."

Zabini, Nott and Parkinson glared at him, the doorman tightened his grip on Harry's bicep despite being clueless as to what half the words in that sentence meant, but Draco merely grinned.

"Care to join me?" the blonde boy asked randomly.

Harry was prepared to insult Draco back, but after a second or so he realised Draco hadn't insulted him at all.

"What?" Harry snapped impatiently.

"Would you," he pointed at Harry, "care to join me," he pointed to himself, "in there," and he pointed to the nightclub.

Harry snorted. "Why the hell would I do that?"

"Because I can get you in so you can see your friends again," Draco said with a shrug, his lip twitching.

"Draco, why –?"

"Quiet, Nott," Draco chided. "Now, Potter, is that a yes or a no?"

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"It's a thank you but no, I didn't want to come tonight anyway," he said, and finally managed to pull his arm away from the bouncer's grip.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Could I, ahem, have a private word with you, Harry?" he asked sweetly.

Theo and Blaise exchanged a glance and Pansy looked longingly at the club.

"Draco, leave the prat!" she whined. "Come on, let's just go clubbing! Please?"

"You three go on, I want a word with Mr Potter," Draco said through a grin.

"You heard him, Panse, let's go," Blaise said. "Derek, I presume we're on the V.I.P list tonight?"

"O-of course, Mr Zabini," Derek said. "Right this way."

Harry frowned at the strange behaviour as the three Slytherins walked after Derek. "Does Blaise –?"

"His Muggle step-father owns this place," Draco explained before smiling at Harry.

Harry was slightly unnerved at Draco's soft expression. What did the boy want to talk about?

"Come over here, I want a word."

Draco led a dubious Harry over to a narrow alleyway.

"What's this all about, Malfoy?" Harry asked with a sigh.

"It's about you, Harry," Draco breathed, and Harry started at the soft voice his name was spoken in.

"Me?" he said sceptically. What had he done wrong now?

"I've seen you, you know. At work, in the pub, on your lunch break. You've changed."

Harry looked at Draco and folded his arms. The boy was trying to get under his skin. He knew it.

"Right. Is that all?"

"You're good at that facade you know," Draco said quietly. "Does anyone else know about your little problem or is it just me?"

Harry stared in disbelief. Surely Draco couldn't know about his depression.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he croaked.

"Is that so?" Draco whispered. He laid his hand over Harry's chest, directly over where his heart was. "Did you know, when people lie their pulse quickens, and your heartbeat is awfully fast, Harry."

"Get off me," Harry snarled, regaining his mask and slapping Draco's hand away. "Just let me go home."

"No, I want to know what's changed you," Draco said softly, stepping closer to Harry until Harry was backed against the wall, Draco towering over him.

"What are you on about? Nothing's changed me!" Harry insisted. He was fine! Nothing was wrong with him. He was just... bored. Bored of life and bored of his routine.

"What a hopeless liar you are," Draco said, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Tell me, who do you live with?"

"I live... wait, why the hell should I tell you?" Harry growled.

Draco pushed Harry's hair off his forehead and fisted his hand in the raven locks. "Tell me, Harry."

Harry gulped, not liking this situation at all. With Draco's hand in his hair he couldn't move as much as he would like to, and it made him feel very powerless. So, if you don't like this, what's that little bulge I can see down there?

Ignoring that voice Harry swallowed and said, very calmly,"Well, I... I live alone, if you must know."

"I thought as much. Where do you live?" His fingers tightened slightly and brushed Harry's scalp.

"I rent a flat in Sutton."

"And you're always on your own at work. You're lonely at work, and then you come home to a lonely apartment," deduced Draco. "Huh. Strange; I never pictured you one for solitude."

"Get off me," Harry whispered. How did Draco know all this? Even his close friends didn't know the reason why he was so distant.

"Say it again and mean it," Draco hissed. "Because I think you need me. You don't feel alive any more, do you?"

Harry was baffled; since when was Draco so perceptive?

"I don't need you!" Harry said confidently, though it was more to convince himself than Malfoy.

"Are you sure?" Draco murmured, and he shoved a strong thigh in between Harry's legs, forcing Harry to part them.

He let out a soft gasp as Draco's thigh pressed against his shameful hardness.

"This says otherwise," the blonde boy said, and he began to move his leg up and down so it was stroking Harry's erection.

"P-please, don't," Harry begged. But did he really want Draco to stop? Wasn't this what he had wanted? Some attention, something exciting, something different?

"I'll stop when it sounds like you mean it," Draco said huskily.

Harry groaned and arched his neck back so his head was resting on the wall behind him.

"Dr-Draco, please, get off me," he whispered, eyes closed and cheeks flushed as that muscular thigh continued its assault on Harry's growing erection.

"No. You don't mean it."

"I do."

"I don't believe you."

Harry took a deep breath and tried to regain his thoughts. No, he certainly did not want Draco Malfoy. The boy had just insulted him, embarrassed him, and had made his school life a living hell.

Harry opened his eyes and pushed Draco away.

"I mean it, Malfoy. I don't want... this. Now please, I'm going home."

"Okay," Draco said, stepping aside and letting Harry walk right past him. "Back home to your empty flat, back to no one..."

Harry's step faltered as he made for the exit of the alleyway.

"Don't," he whispered.

"What was that?" Draco called.

"I said, don't," Harry said without turning round. "Don't say that."

Draco seized his opportunity and stood in front of Harry who had halted.

"You don't want to go home, do you?" Draco asked sympathetically. "It's like a prison, isn't it? The only place you know where you belong." By this time Draco was whispering his brutal words into Harry's ear, his hot breath making Harry's skin prickle.

"Shut up," Harry said weakly.

"Just... hear me out," Draco said. "You don't want to go home but you haven't anywhere else to go, and you don't know what else you could do if you didn't go home. What if I could show you? What if I could show you how to live again? How to feel so alive that you swear you're going to die from the mere adrenalin rush."

Harry licked his lips. Draco's offer was tempting, but this was Draco Malfoy he was was dealing with. One of the most untrustworthy bastards Harry had ever come across. But the feeling of Draco's strong thigh in between his legs only a moment ago, and that warm gust of breath on his neck was clouding Harry's thoughts. He was tempted to agree, but what were the consequences going to be?

"I don't know," Harry mumbled.

"Let me give you a... test run. You can see if you like it, if you don't we'll forget this incident ever happened. Deal?"

Harry looked up into the silver eyes that were glinting mysteriously.

And nodded.