Funerals and Weddings
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
63
Views:
24,901
Reviews:
272
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
63
Views:
24,901
Reviews:
272
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Ch. 3: Camden Market
For disclaimer, summary, story codes and other information, please see the prologue.
Chapter the third: Camden Market
1 August
London
After deciding to avoid Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade (Harry was dead certain that Dumbledore and the Order wouldn’t be thrilled that the Dursleys had left him alone and would probably force him to move to Grimmauld Place or stay with Mrs. Figg down the street), Harry spent the morning wandering the stalls and shops of Camden Market. He had definitely figured out what kind of clothes he didn’t like and was pretty sure what kinds he did like. After gathering his courage (You are a Gryffindor, you are a Gryffindor! ), he had even asked a guy working at one of the larger clothing stalls for some advice.
“Er, um, excuse me,” Harry started. “I was wondering if you could give me a bit of help.”
When the young man turned, he smiled as he ran his fingers through his shoulder-length black hair and Harry couldn’t help but see that he was rather good-looking. “Sure. What do you need help with?”
Harry immediately noticed his American accent. Sexy, he decided, then mentally chastised himself for thinking such a thing.
“Well, erm, I need some advice actually,” he said, blushing a little. “You see, I’m a bit crap at shopping, and I really need some new clothes. Could you, maybe, give me your opinion on some things?” Harry was inwardly jumping for joy that he hadn’t stuttered and stumbled all over himself with that little speech—and the fact that the guy was still smiling at him.
The guy looked Harry up and down slowly, then said, “Yeah, alright, sure. Want to show me what you had in mind?” With that, he had led Harry over to a changing area (just four curtains strung from the stall roof to make a square—Harry was a little taken aback by the openness, but realized that this was the best an open-air market could provide) and proceeded to approve some of his choices, nix others and toss other options through the curtains to him sporadically. In the process, they had chatted quite a bit—his name was Jason, he was 17, originally from Atlanta, Georgia in the States but was now living in London with his older brother who worked for some pharmaceutical company that had transferred him to London. When Harry asked him why he had moved with his brother, Jason had winked and said, “Who wouldn’t want to get away from their parents and have the opportunity to party in London for awhile!”
Jason was outgoing and friendly and, Harry decided, flirting with him. Harry had suspected Jason was gay after he had winked at him (Harry was pretty clueless but didn’t think straight men winked at other men--and then there was that once-over Jason had given him when he had asked for his help) and had his suspicions confirmed when Jason made an off-hand reference to his ex-boyfriend’s band playing at some venue next week. And now he was flirting with Harry!
Harry wasn’t sure how to react; he considered ignoring it, but that annoying little voice in his head piped up: ‘No! Don’t ignore him—this is your chance! Chat him up! You spend your time ogling boys’ arses—don’t you want to find out if you really fancy boys or not?’ Harry still wasn’t sure, but he figured this was the perfect opportunity—after all, if he made a complete prat of himself, he never had to see this bloke again.
This decided, Harry exited the dressing area to show Jason his latest outfit. Jason looked him up and down, sucking absently on his purple-beaded lip ring, and pronounced him “Hot!”
Amazingly, Harry hadn’t embarrassed himself when he heard his comment and had even managed to flirt back a little. By the time he was finished, he had several bags’ worth of clothes and accessories, a considerably lighter wallet—and a date to meet up with Jason and some of his friends after he was off work to go dancing at a club.
After parting from Jason, Harry headed off to buy some Doc Martens (Seamus had a pair and Harry thought they were quite good). Working up his courage again, he made his last stop: a tattoo parlour.
Although he’d been rather turned on watching Jason suck on his lip ring all day, it wasn’t on that account that he went into the shop. Harry had wanted his ear pierced ever since he saw how cool Bill Weasley looked with his earring back in fourth year. Since that time, he had also decided that he wanted his tongue pierced—it struck him as very cool and wickedly rebellious.
A tall man with light hair and tattoos marching up and down his arms was sitting behind the counter and greeted Harry. After Harry told him what he wanted, the tattooed man then went about explaining the different ring and gauge options, often using his own plethora of piercings as examples of how it would look. Deciding plugs weren’t quite his thing, Harry settled on a plain silver captive-bead hoop with a red and black swirly bead for his ear and a silver barbell with a tiny green snake on each end for his tongue. Harry grinned to himself at the serendipity of finding the perfect piece of jewelry for a Parselmouth.
After his piercing adventure (it hadn’t hurt all that much, although the tongue clamp had weirded him out a bit and now both his earlobe and his tongue were throbbing), Harry headed home to dump his parcels and get ready to go out. He was happy to find a small phial of pain potion buried in his trunk—he had taken to keeping some on hand for when his scar acted up. Downing it, he wondered what Jason would think about his new body adornments—and he hoped he got to find out what kissing with a tongue ring felt like as well. ‘After all,’ Harry thought, ‘If I’m gonna do this experiment, might as well be hanged for a dragon as an egg!’
Chapter the third: Camden Market
1 August
London
After deciding to avoid Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade (Harry was dead certain that Dumbledore and the Order wouldn’t be thrilled that the Dursleys had left him alone and would probably force him to move to Grimmauld Place or stay with Mrs. Figg down the street), Harry spent the morning wandering the stalls and shops of Camden Market. He had definitely figured out what kind of clothes he didn’t like and was pretty sure what kinds he did like. After gathering his courage (You are a Gryffindor, you are a Gryffindor! ), he had even asked a guy working at one of the larger clothing stalls for some advice.
“Er, um, excuse me,” Harry started. “I was wondering if you could give me a bit of help.”
When the young man turned, he smiled as he ran his fingers through his shoulder-length black hair and Harry couldn’t help but see that he was rather good-looking. “Sure. What do you need help with?”
Harry immediately noticed his American accent. Sexy, he decided, then mentally chastised himself for thinking such a thing.
“Well, erm, I need some advice actually,” he said, blushing a little. “You see, I’m a bit crap at shopping, and I really need some new clothes. Could you, maybe, give me your opinion on some things?” Harry was inwardly jumping for joy that he hadn’t stuttered and stumbled all over himself with that little speech—and the fact that the guy was still smiling at him.
The guy looked Harry up and down slowly, then said, “Yeah, alright, sure. Want to show me what you had in mind?” With that, he had led Harry over to a changing area (just four curtains strung from the stall roof to make a square—Harry was a little taken aback by the openness, but realized that this was the best an open-air market could provide) and proceeded to approve some of his choices, nix others and toss other options through the curtains to him sporadically. In the process, they had chatted quite a bit—his name was Jason, he was 17, originally from Atlanta, Georgia in the States but was now living in London with his older brother who worked for some pharmaceutical company that had transferred him to London. When Harry asked him why he had moved with his brother, Jason had winked and said, “Who wouldn’t want to get away from their parents and have the opportunity to party in London for awhile!”
Jason was outgoing and friendly and, Harry decided, flirting with him. Harry had suspected Jason was gay after he had winked at him (Harry was pretty clueless but didn’t think straight men winked at other men--and then there was that once-over Jason had given him when he had asked for his help) and had his suspicions confirmed when Jason made an off-hand reference to his ex-boyfriend’s band playing at some venue next week. And now he was flirting with Harry!
Harry wasn’t sure how to react; he considered ignoring it, but that annoying little voice in his head piped up: ‘No! Don’t ignore him—this is your chance! Chat him up! You spend your time ogling boys’ arses—don’t you want to find out if you really fancy boys or not?’ Harry still wasn’t sure, but he figured this was the perfect opportunity—after all, if he made a complete prat of himself, he never had to see this bloke again.
This decided, Harry exited the dressing area to show Jason his latest outfit. Jason looked him up and down, sucking absently on his purple-beaded lip ring, and pronounced him “Hot!”
Amazingly, Harry hadn’t embarrassed himself when he heard his comment and had even managed to flirt back a little. By the time he was finished, he had several bags’ worth of clothes and accessories, a considerably lighter wallet—and a date to meet up with Jason and some of his friends after he was off work to go dancing at a club.
After parting from Jason, Harry headed off to buy some Doc Martens (Seamus had a pair and Harry thought they were quite good). Working up his courage again, he made his last stop: a tattoo parlour.
Although he’d been rather turned on watching Jason suck on his lip ring all day, it wasn’t on that account that he went into the shop. Harry had wanted his ear pierced ever since he saw how cool Bill Weasley looked with his earring back in fourth year. Since that time, he had also decided that he wanted his tongue pierced—it struck him as very cool and wickedly rebellious.
A tall man with light hair and tattoos marching up and down his arms was sitting behind the counter and greeted Harry. After Harry told him what he wanted, the tattooed man then went about explaining the different ring and gauge options, often using his own plethora of piercings as examples of how it would look. Deciding plugs weren’t quite his thing, Harry settled on a plain silver captive-bead hoop with a red and black swirly bead for his ear and a silver barbell with a tiny green snake on each end for his tongue. Harry grinned to himself at the serendipity of finding the perfect piece of jewelry for a Parselmouth.
After his piercing adventure (it hadn’t hurt all that much, although the tongue clamp had weirded him out a bit and now both his earlobe and his tongue were throbbing), Harry headed home to dump his parcels and get ready to go out. He was happy to find a small phial of pain potion buried in his trunk—he had taken to keeping some on hand for when his scar acted up. Downing it, he wondered what Jason would think about his new body adornments—and he hoped he got to find out what kissing with a tongue ring felt like as well. ‘After all,’ Harry thought, ‘If I’m gonna do this experiment, might as well be hanged for a dragon as an egg!’