Light Em Up

  March 29, 2005







    Not for the first time that day did Harry seriously wonder why he held auditions to replace his co-vocalist, who decided rather recently to flit off and get his arse married, settled and plan for a sprog. He, personally, didn\'t understand the need to settle. He was quite fine with one-offs when the need arose, not that he couldn\'t control his hormones at his age. At 25, he was a strapping man at the height of his virility. He saw no sense in actively searching for \'the one\'. If such a person showed up, he\'d consider it. But for now, he was inexorably focused on this mini-crisis his band was having. 





  It wasn\'t as if it was the be all and end all of their career. For the last year they had been just an opening act for various well known artists, deciding to get their collective feet wet before launching into the music career as a whole. While he was the only wizard member of the band, surprisingly their manager, loosely termed, was also a wizard, and one of Harry\'s former year-mates at Hogwarts. Not that Blaise Zabini knew that. 





   According to his mates and manager, and the rest of the world, he was \'Hardy Potts\'. Not his most clever pseudonym, but it did the job. His name wasn\'t the only thing he changed, with intent to hide in the muggle world. He made use of various glamours to augment his changed looks. His hair was longer and bone straight. Not a single wisp flying away. He kept his trademark black, but broke up the monochromatic scale with chunky strips of beryl. That was another thing to go... his emerald-esque eyes. He darkened them to a muddy olive that still looked handsome in his tanned face.





   Since the war ended just under a decade previously, his scar has faded to near-nothing and could be passed off as  natural pigment variation. He kept his slim Quidditch physique but slashed across his left forearm (as a reminder to himself what exactly he endured) was a string of runic letters that spelled \'expelliarmus\' to anyone who closely studied the arcane language. So far, Blaise hadn\'t made any subtle or overt references to the tattoo, otherwise his alias would be shot and Daily Prophet reporters would be at his warehouse door long before now.





  Harry brought his attention away from ruminating the transformation of \'Harry\' into \'Hardy\'. The bloke that was stepping off the jamming stage had a half-way decent voice, but the sound wasn\'t exactly what he was looking for in a co-vocalist. Merging Harry\'s distinct cold tenor with a light bass that this...what was his name? Claude? Klaus? Clarence, that was it. Clarence Castleberry. Either way, their voices would juxtapose in an odd way that wouldn\'t appeal to many. He stood to give Clarence a handshake and to break the news, rather more blunt than he would have as \'Harry\'.





"Great voice, mate. But that isn\'t exactly what we need. You and I would sound horrible while harmonizing. Best of luck though. Cheers." He said, stepping away to take a look at the list he was given by Blaise, the prospects lined up for today. 





"When you head out, send in..." Harry perused the list once more before finishing: "Drew." He was the last on this compilation of no-way-josé singers. 





   He had very little faith that this \'Malloy, Drew\' would break the mould. Clarence nodded, resigned, then quickly made his way out to the smaller and more  warmly furnished break room. In walked in a slender man that at first glance, rocked Harry to the core. He did a double take and forced his heart to vacate the esophagus that it decided it wanted to inhabit. 





"Drew...?" Harry asked slowly, shoving the mental picture of his old school rival out of his head and focused on the petite, yet tall, blonde in front of him. The light hair was what got him at first. It wasn\'t as white-blonde as Malfoy, nor was the questioning gaze that of his granite chips. Curious Mediterranean pools met the glamoured olives in question. 





"Yes...Hardy, is it? Potts? That is me. Drew Malloy, or so my mother claims." Came the warm, soft voice. \'Nope, not him. Malfoy couldn\'t sound this pleasant even if he was addressing the Queen, while Imperiused and Polyjuiced.\' Harry thought. He blinked in surprise as the ash-blonde accented his little quip with a cheeky and flirtatious wink. \'Well! Definitely not Draco Malfoy. But a strong enough resemblance at first glance to easily mistake him.\'





"Ha, well, if you prefer that name, I see no reason to strip it from you. There\'s many more interesting things to strip, I\'ll wager." Harry returned, his own quip bringing a soft flush to the pale, delicate face that no amount of wishing away could diffuse the uncanny similarity to his boyhood rival, -despite the two mini rings through his right brow and a matching one adorning the left side of his bottom lip.





\'Well well, looks like this one already has something in common with me. Let\'s hear that soft voice sing, then.\' Harry thought, pulling off a rather Slytherin smirk at the direction his thoughts almost strayed. There wasn\'t time for that. Harry had long since accepted that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn\'t understand women like he could his own gender. It was thanks to his own band mates that he sussed out what exactly that meant.





   An epiphany hit him hard about six years back, when he was still teaching himself to play guitar and training his voice: Perhaps he should be lifting shirts instead of skirts? A long night out with his future band chums, and copious amounts of alcohol, brought it all glaring into his eyes with a brightness to rival his Patronus. That is, if the handsome and fit young man that he woke next to that morning after, was any indication. Again, he was snapped out of his reverie by a prospective member. Blinking, he turned his contacted and glamoured eyes to Drew. 





"Come again? Sorry, I was elsewhere for a mo\'." He said, raising his brows and blinking.





"I said should I give my music to your band? It\'s my own compilation. If you have time for them to read the music over, I\'m more than willing to wait." Drew said, passing him a sheaf of papers, hand written music dancing over the lines. Harry shuffled through them with a slight frown appearing between his brows after a few moments. A cursory glance from him showed that this music was in the same genre as theirs, but what really mattered was Drew\'s vocal talent. Not music writing skills. Harry took care of that himself, mostly. 





"Guys, you want to learn this real quick like? Doesn\'t have to be perfect." Harry called over to his drummer, bassist and keys player. The three jogged over and took the music, talking amongst themselves briefly, without sparing a glance at the yet another would-be member, before going to their respective instruments. Harry continued to read through the lyrics and music for a few minutes, making mental annotations to himself, before a voice brought his head up.





"Hey, we\'re going to need you, Hardy. This won\'t sound right without your guitar cues." Raymond yelled over from behind his kit. Harry flicked his eyes to Drew and an idea quickly formed in his brain. None of the others that came today brought their own music, electing instead to have the band play their own tunes while they paid lip service to Harry\'s lyrics. 





"Drew, you mind if I hop up there and give it a go with you? I\'m sure I could do these backups." Harry murmured, leafing through the sheets quickly. With an affirmative nod, they both climbed the stage. While Drew was adjusting a microphone, Harry fetched a music stand to lay out the pages so he could keep on track of the catchy but unfamiliar song. He flipped his guitar up and pulled the strap over his shoulder, picking a few strings to confirm that it was still in tune. 





"Whenever you\'re ready, Ray. The drums lead into the intro. Carey, keep that bass on count. Fletcher, doesn\'t look like we\'ll need keys, but you do have those presets. Freestyle how you will, I\'m sure Drew here won\'t mind." Harry ordered in a friendly but stern manner, looking at last to Drew and giving him a half smile that reached his eyes. 





   He took a stance side by side with the lithe blonde, his adrenaline spiking for very little reason that he could understand, other than this soft-spoken but confidence radiating musician clicked with him. Had he taken longer to explore that feeling, he\'d have realized that it had been ten years previously since he\'d felt that sort of magnetic pull, however buried in animosity. Just then Fletcher came in with a clap preset, followed shortly by Ray on his floor kit after a few counts. A distinct and familiar smirk appeared on the pale pink lips of the prospective before he opened his mouth to give a voice to the music in time with Ray\'s strikes, drawing Harry\'s attention away from the lurching recognition that tried to flow through him.





"Oh oh, whoa oh oh, whoa oh oh, oh oh. Oh oh, woah oh oh, whoa oh oh, oh oh."





   Even by that time, with Drew only doing an echoing scale, Harry knew that this was a definitive moment. The haunting quality almost distracted him from coming in on his cue, and completely removed the sense of dèja vú caused by the blondes smirk. Anyone can smirk, including him. Right? His fingers danced along with his pick over his strings, Drew\'s voice cutting through him with its clarity and once again pulling his attention away from thoughts of Slytherin Ice Princes. 





"B-b-be careful making wishes in the dark, dark. Can\'t be sure when they\'ve hit their... mark, mark. And besides, in the mean, mean time, I\'m just dreaming of tearing you apart."





   Drew sang, hands wrapped loosely around the standing Mic and hips gently ticking with the tap that his booted foot kept time with. The effect had Harry glancing over frequently, his own hands pulling the tune from his instrument with skill and ease. Ray kept his beat easily as well, exchanging a look with Carey that clearly spoke volumes of approval. It didn\'t hurt that Drew obviously held their band leader\'s admiration, considering he couldn\'t keep his ogling eyes to himself. 





"I\'m in the de-details with the...devil, so now the world could never get me on my...level. I just gotta get you out of the cage. I\'m a young lover\'s rage, gonna need a spark to ignite."





   Harry could almost taste the angst underlying the vocalist\'s lyrics, no matter how clean and clear the voice. This was something Harry could write, something fueled by internalized and roiling emotions, for better or worse. 





"My songs know what you did in the dark, so light em up, up up. Light em up, up up. Light em up, up, up. I\'m on fire!"





   Harry shivered as a chill raced down down his spine, but none of his reaction was evident in his own voice joining finally with Drew\'s as he chanted "light em up, up, up" and "I\'m in fire!" with him, twice. At the joining, Drew opened his until-then-closed eyes to dart a wide and surprised look to Harry, shocked that the butch male could reach his range right along with him as they both rolled off scales.





"Oh oh, whoa oh oh, whoa oh oh, oh oh." They both belted out, eyes meeting and mouths bearing identical amused grins around the scales.





"In the dark, dark." Harry followed up, pressing a button on his Mic that altered the reception, echoing while Drew quieted before joining in with the next line.





"Oh oh, whoa oh oh, whoa oh oh, oh oh."





"In the dark, dark."





   Harry sang the scales, just to jam home the point that the lyricist didn\'t have to play every part, and to allow him equal footing with the production, even if the music didn\'t specify that Harry was to come in with those lyrics. They would be co-vocalists after all. Drew smiled around the next lyrics and kept his eyes on the brunette, understanding the message and inclined his head in tacit understanding. Behind the pair, the rest of the band was keeping down their chuckles as the clear sparks erupting between the two singers threatened to short out their equipment.





"Writers keep writing what they...write, write. Somewhere, another pretty vein just... died, died. I\'ve got the scars from tomorrow and I wish you could see, that you\'re the antidote to everything except for me, me.





A constellation of tears on your...lashes. Burn everything you love, then burn the...ashes. In the end, everything collides. My childhood spat back out the monster that you see."





   Harry lost himself in the music, head bobbing along with the beat and eyes glued to Drew, his fingers not missing even one of theirs. His gut ached for the lyrics, for the pain. Something prompted the young man to pour this out of himself and Harry made the decision to ask him straight away. He\'d already decided that once the song concluded, he\'d welcome Drew to the band. He was acutely confident that his mates would unanimously agree. And if they planned on wrestling this song into their repertoire, it was imperative that he, at least, understood it in its entirety. He raised his voice with Drew\'s, almost exactly in tandem but perfect in its imperfection.





"My songs know what you did in the dark. So light em up, up, up. Light em up, up, up. Light em up, up, up. I\'m on fire!





So light em up, up, up. Light em up, up, up. Light em up, up, up. I\'m on fire!





Oh oh, whoa oh oh, whoa oh oh, oh oh."





"In the dark, dark."





"Oh oh, whoa oh oh, whoa oh oh, oh oh."





"In the dark, dark."





   Harry could see the emotion welling up in that slim face, another point against the lookalike Malfoy. The only emotion the Malfoy heir could deign to show was contempt, as his royal Pureblood arse was better than everyone else. He really needed to get that git out of his head! Drew was infinitely better than that dratted toe-headed prat, and he\'d only known him for a few minutes. 





   He let him take the point, and came in on counter instead of harmonizing,  recognizing that this was his purge. He vaguely wondered how long he had been sitting on this piece of musical beauty before he was swept up into the counterpoint as the song wound down to its end.





"My songs know what you did in the dark..."





"My songs know what you did in the dark..." Harry countered, backing off the Mic to fade his voice, drawing out the last word in a flawless imitation of Drew\'s slight vibrato. Raymond drolled his kit quickly, then half a beat later, he slammed his Toms and cymbals while Harry launched into the last few counts on the heels of Drew.





"So light em up, up, up. Light em up, up, up. Light em up, up, up. I\'m on fire!





So light em up, up, up. Light em up, up, up. Light em up, up, up. I\'m on fire!





Oh oh, whoa oh oh, whoa oh oh, oh oh."





"In the dark, dark."





"Oh oh whoa oh oh, whoa oh oh, oh oh."





"In the dark, dark."





   Harry backed fully away and let Drew close it out a Capella, silencing his guitar and voice. A miniscule gesture that he made just prior towards his mates, and they too, stopped. Drew\'s voice rang clear and echoed back at him from the empty practice space. 





"Oh oh, whoa oh oh, whoa oh oh, oh oh."





   He turned to look at Harry full on, noticing with a quick once over, that his trousers weren\'t the only tight accommodations in the house. Hearing the brunette really done it in to him. They sounded superb mingled, like their voices were crafted specifically to sing out together. Harry, too, felt that deep, resonating connection. It was like for once since he disappeared from the Wizarding world, he was where he was supposed to be. And it came about by only singing. Where had Drew been hiding himself this entire time? He was content with his prior vocalist, but Hayden had nothing on Drew\'s control and clarity. 





   The only pitfall he could see was that for some Merlin-forbidden reason, the soft-spoken but powerful singer reminded him strongly of someone he had a long standing hate-hate reputation with. No matter how much he looked like a cousin to Malfoy, they needed him. He\'d just have to do his best to toss out memories of his rival. With a slow turn to his mates to flash them a dazzling smile, he proffered the vocalist a healthy view of his pert backside encased in fetching tight denims. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Drew startle for a moment with his eyes notably gazing below the back of his shirt hem and inwardly grinned. Perhaps his Hardy persona could have fun with this enigma, if just a glance at his rear could elicit that reaction. Harry took two strides to Drew after receiving answering grins back from his band, hand outstretched warmly. 





"Welcome to Bolt."