Carridwen

"I see you work at night, and are you sexually amused?

What's it like to have a room of guys encircling you?

How she moves and how she walks;

They all patiently await,

While the heat from in their pockets

Could burn Marks into their legs." - "Worked Up So Sexual" The Faint



The lights flickered overhead, splashes of purple and blue above the dark dance floor. A glittering golden chandelier hung atop the posh club, and a small stage jutted up in front, supporting sizable speakers and a low DJ booth covered with an assortment of mixers, turn-tables and digital dials.



He spun the discs at his fingertips, the throbbing mass of bodies inside the building pulsing with his every decision; he could make them speed their gyrations fitting hyper-sexual beats, he could slow them to passionate rhythms and invoke lustful grinding. He controlled their movements; he controlled their nights.



Draco Malfoy was drunk on power.



He watched from the stage, pausing in his movements as he faded out the song, pressing keys on a laptop to set up a pre-recorded playlist, ready for a break. The dancers were glistening with sweat, the individuals moving at the cadence of his music, causing the floor to throb like the ocean under a full moon.



Draco smirked, fixing the final settings and locking his station, before turning and descending into the sea of motion. Making his way to the bar, the bartender glanced up and winked, pouring a slow amaretto sour for the blond young man in his line of sight. Draco nodded and delivered a flirtatious smile, picking up the drink and making for the VIP stairs leading to the namesake of the exclusive club, The Loft.



He spotted Blaise Zabini lounging in a dark leather seat, with two alluring women on either side of him looking none too sober. Across from the italian sat Neil Remingford, owner and manager for the upscale establishment, who had been attempting to secure Draco as a permanent fixture for The Loft for several weeks.



Seeing Draco waltz brazenly over to the group, Remingford's dark eyes lit up and he leapt from his seat, proving awkward from his tipsiness.



"Ah! The man of the hour! How are you, my favorite young man?" Remingford was a muggle in his mid-forties, the platinum rings on his fingers shining surreptitiously against his black Dior suit. He smiled conspiratorially at Draco, "I've just been speaking with Mr. Zabini here, and we may be seeing much more of you at The Loft."



Draco smiled politely at this benefactor; he enjoyed playing at The Loft but knew Blaise would never tie him down to just one establishment - their plans were of a larger scale than just playing local clubs.



"That could be very pleasant indeed, Mr. Remingford," he scanned the view of the dance floor below them, the railing of the loft keeping the bar out of sight. The crowd was less voluminous than it had been while Draco was on stage, and he idly took the implied compliment from the action.



Remingford gave Draco the full force of his stare, even daring to trail his eyes down the blond's lithe body. Draco stood four inches taller than the aging man, clothed in tight dark denim and a fitted black oxford, cuffs rolled above the elbow, a skinny silk silver tie accentuating his eyes in the dull light.



"Oh, Draco, please call me Neil." The older man gave a nearly imperceptible wink, and Draco had to hold back a shiver of disgust. Remingford wasn't terrible to look at, but Draco Malfoy had realized upon coming back to England that he would settle for no less than what his heart desired.



Blaise glared at his business partner, still seated, as the women around him attempted to reign in his attention with sly touches.



"Neil," the blond coated the name with as much sugar as was allowed for a such a situation, "you flatter me so. The Loft is so very coveted for others in my position. I hope to see more of you. Much more." He knew what images his words would incite in the inebriated muggle.



Blaise's deep voice called from the chair, "Neil, do sit down and keep these ladies company for me? I would like to discuss a private matter with Draco on his way back to the stage."



Neil's glassy eyes looked a bit sullen, but he agreed, sitting down with the annoyed women and attempting to entertain them with stories of his yacht.



Blaise's strong arm descended around Draco's shoulders as they headed down the stairs, ascending to the DJ booth, where Draco immediately began tinkering with the settings of the machinery.



The italian lit a rich Toscano cigar and leaned into Draco's ear, "So what do you think of Neil?"



The smaller man scoffed, "You know I don't care for the business ends of these things."



"Draco, you look very enticing tonight..." A caramel colored finger trailed over a pale wrist, "You should consider accompanying me home."



The blond snickered to himself. Blaise would always get drunk and make him the same offer, knowing Draco would never accept. His offer was most likely legitimate, the lustful Italian man would attempt to sleep with anything he considered "beautiful," but while Draco had some attraction to him, he was purely his business partner and one of his closest friends.



"Blaise, take those two lovely women home tonight. You know you want to." A thought jarred in Draco's mind at this mention though, and he voiced it, "Or call up Potter. What was that with the two of you earlier?"



Blaise leaned in once more, taking advantage of the loud dance floor to breath warmly against Draco's ear, "Jealous, Drake? He had such a pretty face that I had to invite him out. What a catch that would be, to bed the Savior. Would you like to watch us, Drake? Or would you like to join us?"



Draco shivered slightly, the image of Potter naked and writhing flashing through his mind, before he shrugged the thought away.



"Ha. Go back up the loft, Blaise. I believe you've been drinking too much for us to seriously converse." The words Draco spoke made a twisted sensation stick to his ribs. Jealousy? No reason to be.



The darker man turned slightly, shaking his head and leaving, and Draco cranked the music up, dropping a beat and pushing the once again swarming dance floor into a frenzy of swaying motion.



Maybe I'm jealous of the way he could take any partner he wished. But no, I know I could, too. I just need something more meaningful.



Draco Malfoy smiled, flashing brilliant white teeth.



The music. This is my lover. And she will never let me down.





A/N: the story is coming along nicely, no? many many thanks to my beta, cronikartist (who i will get to see on wednesday night! yay!)

voodoo fest is this weekend, guys, so ill try to post more before then, but no promises, yknow?



SilverLion: there's a chance of some B/H/D action in the far future, but the loveline here will be H/D... and blaise is technically only racially distinguished in the movie; i've checked my sources, no worries. the book says he's just dark skinned. it could mean anything. i'm kind of impartial to his race in ffics, but my beta had her heart set on a strictly italian blaise. it works for the story though, yeah? (though the actor who plays blaise in the movies is def drop dead gorgeous)



MonsterOfMalice: updated kind of quick for you! hope you get better soon. being sick sucks :/ and im no good with hairdressing either, mines all short haha. you're living with a neurotic straight man? sounds hectic... does he at least cook? and i'll be tying to post two more chapters before friday, but it all depends on how much writing i get done by thursday. hope you get better!!!!!

reviews are appreciated!!