Twisted Faerie Tales

Author's Note: So, here is part 1 of 2 for Cinderella! I'm working on the ending for this one, the ending for The Little Mermaid and part 1 of Sleeping Beauty now so all three of these stories should be completed and posted by month's end. Thanks to Laurel her beta reading of it.

Cinderella Part 1

Summer was the worst time of Harry’s life and it seemed like every year Harry’s cousin Dudley grew more and more obnoxious. He didn’t think that it would be possible, but when Harry got in from Kings Cross Station this year, Dudley had found a new nickname for him.

Cinderfella.

Apparently the fat lump had developed a secret addiction to Disney fairytales while he’d been away and only thought the nickname too appropriate when dealing with Harry, who of course was in charge of all Dudley’s chores when he was home for the summer. This free time gave Dudley ample opportunity to think of new and inventive ways to torture Harry.

Spoiled, fat and cruel, Harry’s cousin was a force to be reckoned with. The boy could do no wrong in his mother’s eyes while Harry could seem to do nothing right. Dudley got to sit and watch television all day, while Harry was forced to wait on him hand and foot; all while doing the household chores that no one else lifted a finger to assist with. It was if the Dursleys had taken in a lanky maid. Dishes, rubbish, gardening, meals – Harry was in charge of all of it and he loathed and resented every minute.

So, when his cousin began swooning over a new band and found out they were coming to play a concert nearby, Harry was atwitter with anticipation. The band’s name was ‘The Prince Charmings’ and they were a clever blend of alternative rock with catchy beats and lyrics that Harry’s discerning ear found little fault with. His appreciation for this new band was one of the only things Harry would admit he had in common with his fat lump of a cousin, and it was the hope of attending the concert with him that kept Harry from muttering too much about his chores.

So, when an invitation to the concert came addressed to Harry and no one would let him read it, he grew petulant. “It’s only fair that I at least get to read it,” Harry whined, refusing to touch another dish until they turned the envelope over to him.

“Boy, I’m warning you,” his uncle Vernon, growled. The envelope in question was currently being crumpled in his fat fist. “One more word out of you and I’ll throw it into the fire and no one will ever know what it said.”

Harry wasn’t terribly worried about that. He figured that if he didn’t get to read his own letter than neither should they, although Harry’s sense of fair might have been a little skewed after all his years living with his adopted family. “Go on then,” Harry goaded, calling his uncle’s bluff.

Vernon’s beady eyes narrowed and he stormed off into the living room with Harry close on his heels. As expected, however, his uncle didn’t throw the parchment out -he opened it.

“Dear Harry Potter, blah blah blah,” he read, skimming along the passage. “It’s an invitation to an after party for that blasted concert you wanted to go to,” he announced at last.

“Oh!” Petunia exclaimed, speaking up for the first time. She did love a glamorous party where she could show off her and her family’s status. As what, Harry had yet to figure out. He had always thought of the Dursleys as entirely middle class, but they saw themselves as much more than that and Harry as much less. “What kind of party?” she asked excitedly. Vernon passed her the invitation and Harry read it over her shoulder.

Dear Mr. Potter,

As a wizard of note in the British Wizarding community, you’re invited to partake in the after party for the premier concert of ‘The Prince Charmings’ in London. You’ll be able to meet the band members and be treated to drinks and hors d'oeuvres. The party will be held in the Diagon Lofts in Diagon Alley at midnight directly after the show.

The Floo will be open to the public that evening, or you can attend via the address enclosed.

Sincerely,

The Prince Charmings Management Team

“What’s a Floo?” Dudley asked aloud, making his mother jerk away from him abruptly.

“As if I would know such magical lingo and nonsense?” she scoffed, far too haughty for someone of her shallow status. “Ask your freak of a cousin,” she muttered, deciding to continue to ignore Harry’s existence.

Dudley looked over at Harry but refused to ask him, so Harry just rolled his eyes. “It’s the way we travel by fireplace.”

“Oh,” Dudley replied dully. “So can I go, Mum?” he asked, diverting his attention to Petunia.

“I don’t see why not, Duddikins,” she replied, talking at him like he was a small fluffy animal instead of the obese teenager he was.

“I thought you two hated magic, how could you let Dudley go to a party being held by a wizarding organization that he’s not even invited to!” Harry balked.

“Into the cupboard with you,” Vernon bellowed, pointing his fat finger to Harry’s bedchamber, which was actually only a closet under the narrow staircase.

Harry shot his stepfamily a dirty look, and reluctantly returned to his cupboard under the stairs and shut the door behind him, which Vernon promptly locked. He could hear them discussing what Dudley should wear to the party from just outside his door. Vernon was against the whole thing, citing that anyone with magical powers was an abomination. Petunia was for it only because her dearest son wanted to go.

“He’s not going to be able to get in without me,” Harry pointed out through the slats on his little closet door. He allowed himself a smug grin as the room grew silent and he heard the telltale sound of Vernon’s heavy footfalls coming over to unlatch the door.

“Out with you then,” he grumbled, having already lost the fight of keeping Dudley at home.

“What do you mean he won’t get in without you?” Petunia asked.

“I’m the wizarding celebrity, Dudley’s just a fat Muggle. They’ll turn him away at the door if he even managed to find his way to the door in the first place,” he replied contemptuously. “If Dudley wants to go, you’ll have to let me go with him.”

They didn’t like that too much but after a bit of staring and well-place scowls, Harry finally won the argument, with the provision that Dudley was to remain unharmed and if anything –magical or otherwise- were to happen to their dear Duddikins, Harry would be out on his arse.

After putting up such a fierce argument, Harry didn’t have the energy to tell his family that if that moment came, it would be the best day of his life.

------------------------------------------

“But that’s ridiculous,” Harry protested, trying his best not to stomp his feet in a decidedly childish manner. “You can’t make me take him to the after party, but not let me go to the concert!”

“We can and we will,” Vernon snapped, looked very pleased with himself.

Of course he’d waited until the evening of the concert, right after Harry had made and served him dinner to let Harry in on that little tidbit of information.

“The concert is in an hour and you’re telling me now that I can’t go?” Harry repeated incredulously.

“You’ll get to meet the band and whatnot at your little freak party,” Vernon grumbled, “but tonight you’ll stay here while we take Dudley to the concert.”

Harry was close to refusing to take Dudley to the after party at all, but that would mean he wouldn’t be allowed to go either, and not even the constipated look on Dudley’s face would be worth missing that party. Even if Harry hadn’t liked the band, he still would have done anything he could to get out of the Dursley house for any amount of time. Besides, he had an inkling that his uncle wanted Harry to refuse to take him, that way he could tell his son that he couldn’t go and blame it all on Harry.

So, Harry kept his mouth shut and just stormed off.

He was sitting by the fireplace when the Dursleys made to leave, Dudley in too tight jeans and an unflattering horizontal striped shirt while his parents looked on decidedly anxious about the whole affair. No doubt they would find a way to make Harry the scapegoat for their son’s unusual taste in music.

‘The Prince Charmings’ were a magical band that played almost solely for Muggle audiences. They followed in the footsteps of other magical bands that had made a fair bit of money impressing the Muggle teens with things that were just plain ordinary to other wizards. Because of this, it was actually Dudley that had heard of them first, in fact, Harry hadn’t even known the band was magical until the after party invitation had come.

It made sense though when he thought about it. The lead singer was exceptionally hot in a Draco Malfoy sort of way, only better because he wasn’t a prat. The set and special effects performed at each show were far too elaborate for Muggle techs to put together and the music had an ethereal quality that just couldn’t be replicated with normal –read non-magical- equipment.

He wondered vaguely if he knew any of the musicians. They were all his age, or at least looked like it, so they had to go to school at one of the magical institutions. Hogwarts was the most obvious choice, but it was possible they went to Durmstrang or Beauxbatons. It would explain why their only concerts would be over the summer.

Sulking, because he wouldn’t get to see the doubtless brilliant performance, Harry was startled when he heard a faint pop and looked up to see Sirius Black standing in his living room. This might not have been so odd, except that Sirius had died the year before.

Harry’s eyes widened and he immediately raised his wand in defense. “Who are you?” he demanded of the man who couldn’t possibly be his godfather.

“Harry,” the man replied with a familiar wink. “You know who I am. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me already.”

“I haven’t forgotten who Sirius Black is, I just know for a fact that he’s dead,” Harry bit out, not liking the prank that was being played upon him.

“Well, I’m back…sort of,” he replied, adjusting his leather jacket, but reaching for his wand as Harry would have expected of a wizard who had another’s wand aimed at him. “It’s only in a limited capacity, however,” he added with a subtle frown.

“And what might that capacity be?” Harry asked him warily.

“I’m here tonight as your fairy godfather,” he announced, giving his hands a little flourish as if he’d just ended an elaborate dance routine. “Tada!” With that, a set of silvery wings burst from the man’s back, straight through the leather jacket, and knocked a little porcelain trinket off the shelf behind him. “Whoops.”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh and in a moment of abandon, he rushed over to hug his godfather, who swept him up in his arms at once. Tears were falling down Harry’s face before he could stop them, he had missed Sirius so much and he told him so.

“I’ve missed you too, Kid,” Sirius replied in kind, pulling away only to look Harry over. “They haven’t been feeding you enough.”

“You sound like Mrs. Weasley,” Harry replied, rolling his eyes.

“Molly’s a smart woman, even if we don’t always see eye to eye. So, why am I here?” Sirius asked at last, as if getting to business.

“Uh, I’m not sure, I thought you might explain that to me,” Harry noted, thoroughly confused.

“Well, it seems you’ve been denied a portion of your destiny, and I’m here to make that right,” Sirius informed the boy.

“It’s my destiny to go to this concert tonight?” Harry asked, his brows knit together in confusion. “That’s odd… it has nothing to do with Voldemort.”

“Tonight is ‘The Prince Charmings’ concert?” Sirius asked, his eyes going wide, but Harry only nodded, still utterly perplexed. “Harry, we have to get you there.”

There was no time for questions as Sirius booted the boy toward his cupboard, demanding he get dressed quickly. When Harry emerged, Sirius shook his head in dismay. “You can’t wear Dudley’s old things to this concert, Harry. You have to look perfect.”

“So, no pressure then?” Harry commented sarcastically, his face lighting up with a crimson blush. “Why is this concert so important anyhow?”

Sirius simply stared at him for a moment, as if contemplating how much to say. “I’ve seen your future, Harry, and this concert is the catalyst for so many things. Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” Harry replied without hesitation.

“Then shut your eyes and don’t open them until I say,” Sirius ordered.

Harry could feel the wisps and tingles of magical energy swirling all around him as he stood there and tried to figure out what his godfather had told him. Was Sirius being… well, serious? Had he really seen Harry’s future? And how could this concert have anything to do with it? When he was finally told to open his eyes, Harry noticed he was in front of a mirror looking very much like someone else.

Tight fitting jeans and an equally tight vintage tee shirt and flat-black boots replaced his previous ensemble, while his wrist bore too many thick plastic bracelets to count. His hair was messy, but in more of a ‘just been fucked’ kind of way rather than a ‘spent sixteen years sleeping in a cupboard’ sort of way. He also noticed that even though he was no longer wearing glasses his glasses, his vision was perfect. Overall, he was rather pleased with his new look, but when he spied the thick kohl liner around his eyes he scowled up at his godfather.

“Too much?” Sirius asked. He looked both proud of his handiwork and amused at Harry’s expression.

“A bit,” Harry confirmed. With another flick of his wand, Sirius removed most of the kohl, but to Harry’s chagrin left a bit. He had to admit it made the brilliant green of his eyes stand out so he didn’t whine about it.

Sirius studied him for a moment, making slow circles around him as he critiqued his work. “Something’s missing,” he mused and then stopped and laughed. “Of course.”

With no other explanation, Sirius slipped out of his worn leather jacket and held it out to Harry. When Harry put it on, the leather moved and shifted into place around him until it looked tailored to fit him. “Perfect,” Sirius noted at last. “Are you ready?”

“To go to the concert?”

“To fulfill your destiny,” Sirius corrected.

Swallowing thickly, Harry nodded and they popped out of existence. The sensation of Side-Apparition was uncomfortable but it was still better than the feeling he got when he used a Portkey. Before he could think about how nauseas he was starting to feel, the world spun around him and he was standing in front of Wembley Stadium with hundreds of people his age filing into a series of doors.

He stared in awe at the building he’d only seen briefly from the window of his uncle’s car. He could hardly believe that a magical band was playing here of all places and catering mostly to Muggles. It was very surreal.

Sirius had a beaming smile on his face as he looked down at his godson. He passed the boy a ticket, which would apparently give Harry entrance to the concert and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“One last minor detail,” Sirius told him as he held out a silver flask. Harry noticed the Black family crest on the sides and sniffed the contents.

“Polyjuice?” Harry whined. He’d hated the stuff with a passion ever since he had to drink it in second year, but after being tricked with it in fourth he had sworn to himself that he would stay away from it.

“Just for the concert,” Sirius placated. “It’ll wear off in an hour, but you’ll need it. Trust me.”

Reasoning that this was his destiny, Harry reluctantly drank the putrid liquid, trying his best not to gag, and felt his body morph and shift with only minor changes. He felt his scar disappear and the bone structure in his face change slightly, and he could swear he’d actually felt his hair lighten, though how he could feel that he had no idea. Harry looked down and noted that he wasn’t very different.

“It was made using hair from your father when he was your age,” Sirius explained. “It didn’t affect your eyes though since I already put them under a vision spell.”

“So…all the shifts I felt were just the Polyjuice removing my mother’s traits?” Harry asked, feeling a little odd about that. He hadn’t realized he had more from his mother than just her eyes, but apparently he’d had her cheekbones and ears as well.

“Sort of,” Sirius replied with a chuckle. “I promise it will wear off in an hour or so. By midnight you should be back to normal.”

“Midnight,” Harry repeated as if trying to remember when to flee other people’s vicinity. He could hear the band begin to play even from where he stood outside and he turned to head toward the sound but Sirius grabbed his shoulders intently.

“Harry, listen very carefully to me now. He can’t know who you are yet,” Sirius told him firmly.

“Who can’t know?” Harry asked. This evening was getting more and more puzzling with every second that passed.

“You’ll know,” he replied with a wink and then he was gone, leaving Harry staring at an empty spot of concrete. It was so hard to have the last word with a wizard. He hadn’t even had time to ask if he’d get to see him again, and now Sirius’ appearance felt like a distant dream.

With a sigh, Harry turned and made his way quickly up the stairs and into the stadium. Once inside he was blown away by what he saw onstage. Large orange orbs hovered in the air, moving and bouncing above the crowd and they changed colors to the beat of the music. Bright lights illuminated the band as they played and colorful images kept flashing up on the screens behind them.

Awestruck, Harry shuffled through the crowd until he was close to the front. The lead singer was as gorgeous in person as he was in the posters Harry had seen around town. Disheveled blond hair fell in chunky locks around the boy’s face; his eyes were lined like Harry’s only he also had a decorative white stripe across the bridge of his nose that extended across his cheeks. The stunning boy was clad in tight black pants that made his arse look magnificent and an odd jacket made up of black and gold strips of fabric. It looked vaguely like ancient military attire. The rest of the band wore different variations of black denims and worn tee shirts, and Harry was happy his godfather had assisted him with his wardrobe. He fit right in with the motley crew on stage.

As they finished the song, the lights dimmed and Harry squashed in closer to the front until only a line of security was in front of him. When the lights came back, everything was awash in red and the lead singer pointed to Harry and crooked his finger with a smirk on his beautiful lips. The security guard directly in front of Harry grabbed him and lifted him clumsily onstage and after taking a moment to acclimate himself, noticed that the lead singer – who went by Abraxas as his stage name – was staring at him.

“What’s your name?” he shouted into the microphone, his question aimed at Harry.

“He can’t know who you are yet.” The words rang through his ears as if Sirius was speaking directly beside him.

“James,” Harry replied, trying his best not to blush at having the attention of the band and the entire audience on him.

The boy smirked again and took Harry’s hand, lifting it to his lips where he placed a kiss across his knuckles. This didn’t help Harry keep his flush at bay, nor did it help when the audience cheered and swooned at the gesture. “Well, James, this song is for you,” Abraxas told him and Harry could have died.

It was a love song of course, slow and ballad-like with a hard edge that made things low in Harry’s abdomen jerk in response. He knew it was just a stunt, and that the band probably brought a new fan up to the stage with them at every show, but Harry was in heaven with his hand clutched firmly in the blond’s and his whole body responding to being serenaded in public.

When the song drew to a close, Abraxas pulled Harry to him and whispered against his lips. He knew to the audience it probably appeared they were kissing, and Harry secretly wished it were true. Instead of kissing him though, Abraxas merely invited him to the party he was already going to later. “I want you there,” he told Harry huskily. “There’s something different about you.”

Most likely it was a common line the Adonis used to lure groupies into his bed, but before Harry could tell the blond he wasn’t that easy, Abraxas pressed an invitation into his hand and passed him over to a woman who had bustled onto the stage to scoop Harry up.

She had bright red hair cut into a sharp bob with the corners curling up on themselves. Her makeup was dramatic, as was the black and buckled get up she was wearing, but she smiled reassuringly and led Harry off to the side where he could watch the rest of the show. Her name was Six, as Harry soon found out, and she was the band’s manager, though she didn’t look old enough or stuffy enough to be anyone’s manager.

“Abraxas really likes you, I think,” she noted as she flipped through some things on a very elaborate looking cell phone.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m sure,” he muttered, looking down at the invitation, which matched the one he’d already received almost exactly.

It took a moment, but eventually Six looked up from her multitude of tasks to narrow her eyes at Harry. “You think I’m lying.” She wasn’t asking, it appeared she already knew the answer.

“I think you’re exaggerating,” Harry corrected and she smirked at him.

“Smart boy,” she noted with pleasure. “Most people would be lapping it all up by now, but not you, huh?”

“Not me,” Harry confirmed. “I can see it’s all an act.”

Six pursed her lips and tilted her head from side to side for a moment as if weighing her response. “Some of it is an act, but some of it is very real.”

Harry assumed she was talking about the magic, but he wasn’t about to let her in on the fact that he was a wizard. He wondered if this woman was a witch as well. On the surface it didn’t seem like it, what with her four-inch heels, edgy clothing and Muggle electronics, but after scrutinizing her rather closely, Harry saw the end of what looked like a wand sticking out of the top of her black pencil skirt.

He might have asked, since he felt sort of odd just standing there in silence with the strange woman, but she went back to poking at the surface of her phone with her index finger and shaking her head in thought. “No, that will never do. He’d die before he’d play that venue,” she muttered to herself before clicking away again.

Harry went back to watching the band and continued to enjoy himself as they went through the set list. They played most of his favorite songs and Harry even thought once or twice he saw Abraxas look for him off the side of the stage, but then assumed he was mistaken when the boy’s eyes drifted passed him.

When the concert was over, his intention was just to Apparate home, grab Dudley and then Apparate over to the Leaky Cauldron, but Six wouldn’t let him out of her sight. “Are you coming to the after party?” she asked, though Harry could tell she assumed he was.

“Er….” Harry stammered, unsure what to say. He knew the Polyjuice potion would be wearing off any moment now, and he was supposed to bring his cousin.

“You have to,” Six told him. “He’s asked for your attendance.”

“And does Abraxas get everything he wants?” Harry asked sarcastically, but Six just nodded while looking somewhat affronted.

“Yes,” she replied haughtily. “Of course he does.”

That settled it apparently, and Six led Harry through a crowd of equipment and wires and then a crowd of people waiting to tear at the band. They rounded the side of a massive bus with the band’s logo and picture wrapped around it and the other end of the parking lot was empty. “Now, this might seem a little strange, but I need you to close your eyes and trust me.”

She apparently thought she was going to Apparate a Muggle out of the concert, but before he could explain that he wasn’t a Muggle at all, he felt his face begin to shift and he panicked. “I really can’t go. I’m supposed to meet up with some friends and I…I have to go!” he shouted and ran off before Six could say or do anything about it.

As he scrambled across the parking lot, trying to blend in with the crowd, he noticed his cousin and fell upon the boy. “Dudley, are you ready to go?” he asked. Part of him was anxious to see Abraxas again, but he knew the boy probably wouldn’t recognize him and that was probably for the best.

“You were there!” his cousin stammered. “He took you on stage!”

“Keep your voice down,” Harry demanded. “How did you know it was me?”

Dudley gestured to the very unique clothing Harry was wearing and Harry sighed. He quickly slipped out of his jacket and handed it to Dudley. “You wear this for now, but if anything happens to it I’ll curse your dick so that it never works again,” he threatened.

Dudley paled, but looked down at the jacket and laughed. “This will never fit me.”

“Just try it,” Harry said distractedly as he scanned the lot for someplace they could Apparate from without being detected.

“Underage wizards aren’t allowed to do magic outside of Hogwarts,” sounded a stern voice from behind them. Harry turned to beam at his godfather and Dudley shrieked beside him, still clutching the leather jacket. Sirius removed it from his grip and put the jacket back on. “So, did you have fun?”

“Loads, but I still don’t see how this has anything to do with my destiny,” Harry muttered.

“Did you meet anyone special?” Sirius asked.

“I met Abraxas and his manager, Six,” Harry mused. “Why?”

“No reason,” he responded vaguely. “I see you have a hanger-on,” he noted, gesturing to the still gaping Dudley.

“I’m supposed to take him to the after party,” Harry grumbled.

“How about I Apparate you to the Leaky and then make sure that the little Dursley gets back home safely with memories of having a great time at this party?” Sirius offered.

“Could you really do that?” Harry asked brightly.

“Could I?” he scoffed, as if the answer should be obvious. Harry didn’t get a chance to apologize right away because he was spinning through the air on his way to the Leaky Cauldron. Once there, Dudley looked ready to vomit while Harry pressed his godfather for more of the Polyjuice.

“I want to see Abraxas again and he’s not going to recognize Harry Potter,” he explained.

Sirius seemed to be thinking hard on it, and eventually nodded, handing the flask back to Harry. “Be careful, Harry, and don’t forget what I told you,” he whispered. “Now off with you. I’m sure you can find a way home from the party?”

Harry nodded and waved as he turned and made his way through the pub and into Diagon Alley.

-----------------------------------------------------

It was pretty clear which place was the Diagon Lofts. Harry rightly guessed it was the building with loads of people milling about outside. As he walked up, a familiar face met his gaze and stomped over to him – steadier than Harry would imagine possible in such high heels. “You came,” Six announced. “How did you make it?” Harry merely shrugged in response, unable to come up with a clever way to avoid the question. “Well, Abraxas will be pleased. He’s already asked about you.”

That bit of news made Harry’s guts swirl and his heart skip a beat. The lead singer was truly dreamy, but Harry hoped that he wasn’t assuming he’d get laid tonight. Harry just wasn’t like that. Nevertheless, he followed Six into the building, bypassing several irked people and looked around at the odd space –or at least odd for a wizarding building.

The only word Harry could think of to describe the space was industrial. It had polished concrete floors, open metal staircases and the walls were all a stark white with elaborate art dotting the walls here and there. The ceiling was all metal rafters and ductwork and even though it should probably feel cold and sterile, Harry found it cozy, but that might just be because Abraxas chose that very moment to walk over.

“You found him!” he exclaimed, addressing Six, who he kissed on both cheeks before turning to face Harry. “James,” he greeted and gave Harry the same treatment. The kisses were chaste and casual but Harry’s belly lit on fire from the brief touch. When he pulled away he saw a flicker of heat cross over Abraxas’ piercing gray eyes as well. “I’m happy you could make it.”

“Of course,” Harry replied with a nod, trying to banish the blush from his cheeks. Abraxas ran his fingertips across the flushed skin and smiled.

“Adorable.”

That didn’t help, but Harry smiled back and Abraxas led him through the crowd, pausing only a few brief moments to greet other guests until they came to the top of the stairs to a closed off room…with a bed. Harry swallowed thickly and wondered how he was going to get out of this tactfully, or at all, and then he even wondered if he wanted to. Perhaps one lovely night with the famous Abraxas would be worth the humiliation he would feel later.

“Listen, Abraxas,” he began, but the blond’s lips were on his before he could say anything else and his resolved melted around his body. Abraxas’ lips were firm, yet gentle as they pressed and explored Harry’s mouth. When his tongue asked for entrance, Harry obliged and they fell to the bed in a panting, groping mass.

They didn’t make it further than snogging and heavy petting before Abraxas gently pushed Harry away. “Sorry,” he apologized bashfully. “I don’t know what came over me. I came up here to get to know you better and suddenly I couldn’t restrain myself.”

Harry chuckled and smiled at the obvious compliment. “It’s best we stop,” Harry conceded. “I’m not the type of bloke who sleeps with rock stars.”

“Not ever?” Abraxas asked, his eyebrow raised in question.

“Well,” Harry began, blushing again, “not unless I know them really well.”

The blond laughed and shook his head at the joke. “Do you know a lot of rock stars really well, then?”

“No,” Harry admitted. “None.”

“So, then I would be your first?” he asked, his voice dropping into a low and seductive tone. Harry could only swallow thickly and nod. “Perfect.”

“But we’re just talking,” Harry reminded him, backing up before he fell under the boy’s hypnotic gaze once more.

Abraxas just chuckled darkly and nodded. “Just talking, and maybe kissing.”

Harry shut his eyes against the onslaught of lust he felt in the blond’s presence. Why couldn’t he fall for a boy at school this way? Why couldn’t he ever do anything normal? “So, what are we talking about?” he asked.

“Tell me about your life,” Abraxas requested, looking genuinely interested.

“Not much to tell, really,” Harry admitted. “I live with my aunt and uncle over the summer and live at Ho- er - boarding school the rest of the year. I have a few close friends, a few close enemies, and other than that there’s not much else to say.” Or rather, not much else he could say. He thought that telling the boy that he was destined to kill the most powerful wizard of all time might be sort of a mood killer, not to mention a dead giveaway for who he was.

“You seem so familiar somehow,” Abraxas sighed out of nowhere, taking Harry slightly off guard.

“Someone good?” Harry asked.

“You could say so,” the boy replied thoughtfully, almost wistfully. “He’s a boy I go to school with. He’s willful and stubborn and sort of a goody-two-shoes, but he’s also clever and handsome and all the things I would want in a partner.”

Harry swallowed thickly and tried not to look crushed that the boy he was pining after desired someone else. He tried to take hold of the fact that he reminded Abraxas of the boy he was infatuated with, but it was hard. “Why don’t you date him then?”

“My father hates him,” the boy replied easily. “It’s really poor luck that I fell for a boy so untouchable.”

“So, how do I remind you of him?” Harry asked, trying to steer the conversation to more comfortable topics.

“Your eyes,” he replied before reaching out to gently stroke Harry’s face. “You share the most enchanting emerald eyes.”

Harry sighed and melted against Abraxas once again and could easily pretend that it was him the blond was speaking of when he talked of his unattainable love. When he felt the first stirrings of the Polyjuice wearing off, he again set into a panic. Why couldn’t he have more time? Just a little more time!

“Anyway,” Abraxas was saying, having not noticed the fear and panic rolling through Harry’s eyes. “I don’t think he’d have me even if my father approved.”

“I have to go!” Harry shouted, leaping up and away from Abraxas with a haste he didn’t know he had.

“What?” he replied, taken aback. “You’ve only just gotten here!”

“I’m late. I should have gone home straight away,” Harry tried to make up an excuse for his quick departure. He turned away from Abraxas so the boy didn’t witness his change and he ran for the door.

A hand stopped him and pressed a ticket into his hand. “That’s for our last show of the summer. Promise me you’ll come.”

“I promise,” Harry told him without thinking and took the stairs two at a time on his way down. Once in the alley outside the building, he breathed a sigh of relief at having escaped unnoticed. He could probably go back in as Harry Potter, but he didn’t want to get mobbed by people. He’d only come to see Abraxas anyhow. After a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself from the amount of panic and lust that still coursed through his veins, Harry Apparated to Privet drive and snuck inside.

He was grateful that the Dursleys had all gone off to bed and wondered if his fairy godfather had something to do with that. Silent as a mouse he crept into his cupboard and lay down. As he stared at the ticket Abraxas had given him, Harry wished the beautiful blond would one day talk about him the same way as he talked about his mystery schoolboy crush.

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Author's note: I modeled the Abraxas character (which I'm sure you've all discovered who that is by now) after one of my favorite old school rock icons, Adam Ant, only blond of course.