Nightclub

He pushed his way into the crowded club, and smiled. This was exactly what he needed.

After a long day spent haggling over prices with his lawyer, Draco Malfoy was looking forward to getting smashed, and maybe taking someone to bed for the night. He'd never had any trouble finding lovers, but lately he'd become bored with the simpering, gold-digging bimbos that flocked to him. Blaise, now big in the Muggle world as a gay fashion designer, had directed him towards Raine, a gay club that was somewhere between muggle and wizard. He'd had his first "gay" encounter in the large handicapped stall of the bathroom with a complete stranger, and loved it, and had come back several times that week.

These men didn't ask questions, and weren't interested in his life. They wanted him for one thing, and he was happy to provide it. Settling down at the bar, Blaise snuggled up beside him.

"When'd you get here, Drake?" he asked, nearly seated in Draco's lap. Draco pushed him into the next seat irritably, and ordered a drink.

"Just a few minutes ago. I thought you had some function to attend?" He sounded a bit snappy, but he didn't want Blaise hanging around him. He needed to forget tonight, and his best mate wasn't exactly conducive to that goal.

"Nah. I made an appearance, and that's all they really wanted from me." Blaise shrugged it off, seeming to sense Draco's bad mood. "Hey, Drake, I don't know if you heard, but you're not the only fresh meat here tonight. There's a black-haired hottie in the corner booth over there who's been attracting a lot of attention." His smirk was practically dripping off his face, but Draco was more interested in the shadowed corner he'd indicated. He watched for no less than five minutes, and saw no less than six different men walk up to him, get in a few words before they were turned down flatly, and walk away again. Shaking his head, he ordered another drink.

"Wonder who he's waiting for?" Blaise mused out loud, thinking about the fact that every single woman Draco had ever dated had black hair, and olive skin. A throw-back to himself, perhaps? No, if Draco wanted to fuck him, he'd ask, or do it. Who else had brown skin and black hair...?

"Potter?"

Draco's easy-going expression was instantly guarded and scowling. "Where?" he all but snarled, and Blaise raised his hands in defense.

"No where. I was just thinking out loud is all." Definitely Potter. No one had ever gotten a reaction like that out of his blond friend.

"Come on, Drake, dance with me a bit. Maybe we'll meet someone out on the dancefloor." Draco allowed himself to be pulled from the bar, and onto the dance floor, where Blaise promptly attached himself to him, and they started dancing, a little on the promiscuous side. After a while, they noticed other people looking interested, and separated to dance around, scanning for potential bed-partners. Or at least that was what Blaise was doing. Who knew what Draco was there for.

Draco was actually just trying to work off the stress of giving the Malfoy name some credentials back, and was getting faintly irritated by the throngs of people. Retreating back to the bar, he saw that his customary seat had been taken over, and slid into the spot next to it.

"Sorry," the man said. "This was your spot, wasn't it? You can have it back." Draco turned to him to tell him it was perfectly alright, and at the same moment, they stopped and stared.

Unforgettably green eyes stared at him from beneath a tumbling mass of black hair, and the unmistakable scar was faded but visible.

"Potter?!"

"Malfoy?" There was considerably less acid in Potter's confused tone than Draco's, and he scowled only briefly. "Trust you to find my one favourite bar and stink it up," he murmured to himself, and slid off the seat, melting into the mass of writhing bodies.

Blaise slid out of it at almost the same time, as if by swallowing Potter Blaise was no longer welcome in it, and he sat down in the still warm stool. "Was that Harry Potter?" he asked, hardly stopping to question his good luck. Maybe now he'd have a chance to show Draco just how desireable the boy-who-lived had become as a man, and that their school-age enmity was better off in the past. Draco rarely forgot a grudge, though, and it wouldn't be as easy as all that.

Fortunately for Blaise's machinations, fate stepped in and added her own blend of mischief to the mix.

"That definitely WAS," Draco was saying. "I think I'm leaving now." He'd stood up and was collecting himself when he stopped and sat back down so suddenly that Blaise had to move out of the way to avoid being struck.

"I thought you were leaving?" he asked, and then noticed the thunderous scowl on his face. "Drake?"

"Potter is making out with some poufy blond twit over there." Draco said tersely. Sure enough, there was Ever-so-shaggable-Potter making out with... a blond of about Draco's stature and colouring. Considering Draco's choice of partners in the past, this was not as shocking to Blaise as it was to Draco.

"Did either of you ever stop to consider that you're trying to make up for something?" Blaise asked rhetorically, and stepped off the stool towards Potter. Draco looked up and then at him, saying, "what?" but he was already out of earshot.

"Blaise, wait! Don't go over there!" Draco hurried after him, wondering what his friend was about to do.

Blaise realized several things all at once. One, Draco was chasing after him, probably scaring people out of his way with a dark frown. Two, the men Potter had turned away earlier had been dark haired, more along the lines of those that Draco fancied. Three, the 'poufy blond twit' was about twice Potter's size, and was precisely of Draco's colouring. Pale, white-blond hair, and he probably had light grey or blue eyes, as well. Tapping him on the shoulder, he waited.

Turning, he glanced at the fashion designer. "You're Blaise Zabini from Zabin's, right?" Blaise nodded. Potter opened his eyes, pouting a little at the interruption. When he realized who had interrupted, it turned into a full-fledged scowl, one that would give Draco a run for his money.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I'd like a word with Potter here, if you don't mind." The blond shrugged.

"See you later tonight?" he asked, and Potter nodded, getting up from his sprawled position against the wall.

"What do you want, Zabini? Just because you're some hotshot Slytherin designer it doesn't mean I want you in my business all the time."

"Just wanted a little chat, Potter. Maybe make it friendly."

"You're not my type." His words were sharp, intended to nip any interest in the bud. No wonder those men had turned tail so fast.

Blaise leaned in, nuzzling Potter's throat in the same way big-and-blond had been doing just moments before. He could still feel the echo of Potter's arousal through his pants, and the newfound stimulation bringing it back. "I can make it worth your while. Just a chat, Potter, that's all I'm asking."

"Fine," the raven-haired young man gave in without much argument, but Blaise figured by the tone of his voice he'd been hard for a while and was ready to come, making him primely susceptible to Blaise's Slytherin wiles. Ignoring Draco's outraged squawk from behind him, Blaise guided Potter into a darker corner. This wasn't unusual for this type of club or time of night, seeing as how everyone had been dancing for a while and were probably hot and bothered anyway. Within seconds, he had his hand down Potter's pants, stroking him gently.

"I've seen the way you two interact over the course of several years, Potter."

"Who?" he gasped out, slumping against the wall and pressing his hips into Blaise's hand.

"I've watched you go through countless blue-eyed blondes while he's got a different dark haired girl on his arm every other week, except they've all got green eyes."

"Mmmnh.."

"I know that secretly, you're wishing that I was blonde, too, aren't you?"

"Ahh.. yes. Why?"

"Because I want you to admit that you want to fuck Draco Malfoy." He twisted his hand as the words left his mouth, drawing a strangled cry from Potter.

"I.. I can't." He whispered, his breath coming in short pants.

Blaise frowned. "I'll stop and leave you here on your own if you don't tell me why right now," he threatened. Potter laughed, his body starting to tense up as his release gathered.

"I'd rather be fucked by him," he revealed, and choked off a moan as he climaxed against Blaise's hand. A quick cleaning spell got rid of the evidence with minimal fuss, and Blaise withdrew, leaving Potter gasping for air against the wall. He turned to face the Wrath of God in the form of a very irate Draco.
"Have you lost your goddamned MIND?!" Draco exploded. "What the hell possessed you to do THAT in the middle of the fucking club!?" He was shouting at the volume of a whisper, and Blaise winced at the damage being done to delicate vocal cords. Deciding to take care of both problems at once, Blaise cut him off.

"Draco, I'm simply making an example of him. If you want something, you've got to reach out and take it."

Draco's face contorted into a strange mix of anger and disgust. "You wanted to do that?!"

Blaise smirked lazily. "No, but I'm sure you did." It worked. Draco was stunned into silence, his mouth working noiselessly as he took in Blaise's words. Leaning in a little closer to his open-mouthed friend, Blaise whispered, "and I'll tell you something else, too. He wants you to, too."

He'd always enjoyed watching Draco get aroused. It was a very sensual process. First his face turned slightly pink and he started panting slightly. His eyes started getting darker until they were almost charcoal grey instead of mercurial silver, and if he was wearing the proper pants for it, only the barest hint of his arousal showed through, giving tantalizing hints about what lay buried beneath his flattering clothes.

"Go on, he's still recovering. If you catch him off guard, maybe he'll forget that you made him hate you, and agree." Draco didn't absorb his words, or he'd've rounded on him angrily. Blaise watched him make his way back over to Potter's corner, and wished he could hear that particular conversation. It appeared to be going well, as Potter was nodding, and Draco's face was starting to light up like a christmas tree. Proud of himself for a job well done, Blaise was taken slightly off guard by the reappearance of Potter's first man.

"I take it I won't be seeing him again tonight because of you," he said without preamble. "But I'm glad he's finally found the one he's been replacing."

Blaise turned to him. He really did resemble Draco, but where Draco was well-bred and regal, this man was more lay-man type. Still, when in Rome...

"I can make it up to you," he offered, and received a slow but dazzling smile in return.

-fin-

Yay for random gay clubs with bad names! I don't know where this came from. One shot, random, not meant to be anything special.