Drarry One Shots

The Rebel Angel

A/N I apologise, the first 2/3rds went a little dark although I didn't set out for it to be this way. Contains references to rape and suicide (not Drarry), please don't read if you'll find this triggering.

It was gone midnight when Draco strode straight to the front of the long queue that had formed under the hanging rainbow flags to get into The Rebel Angel in Soho.

He ignored the grumbles and mutters of 'who does he think he is...' that were directed his way.

'Good evening, Rocco,' he shook the doorman's hand.

'Mr Malfoy,' Rocco grinned. 'Good to see you tonight...'

'Good crowd in?' asked Draco.

'Yes, sir, and no stags or hens.'

'Thank fuck,' Draco grimaced at the burly bloke in his tux who was at least three shoulder-widths wider than him.

'Business or pleasure tonight?' asked Rocco, eyeing Draco's black jeans and black asymmetric waistcoat. There were few clues, he always wore pretty much the same thing with his leather bike jacket, although the high-necked waistcoat with its heavy zips and belt without a shirt under it was a little showier than his usual black roll-necks that he wore during the day. But you never knew what the night would bring... And yes, he still liked to wear black, even if it wasn't a suit these days and the waistcoat was more Alexander McQueen than Madame Malkin. And yes, he'd discovered high-end Muggle designers but the black and formality still served a purpose.

'Always pleasure,' Draco smiled, brushing back his white-blond hair that he now wore a little longer and without all that copious amount of gel.

'I'm sure it is for you,' Rocco winked.

'The Rebel Angel has never failed me yet,' he winked back.

'In you go, sir,' Rocco held back the red rope to let him through.

Draco slipped a fifty note into his breast pocket on the way past. 'Little summer bonus, Rocco, for your holidays. Don't tell the taxman!'

They both grinned.

'Thank you, Mr Malfoy.'

'Don't go staying out there in Turkey, I'd miss you enormously...' Draco said and he meant it. Rocco was a formidable frontman to the nightclub—more than just a doorman and bouncer.

The hefty thuds of bass grew as Draco descended the stairs into the dark basement of the club and he smiled to himself. The tunes at The Rebel Angel always got to him and his body was already unconsciously moving to the beats as he handed his leather jacket to Jacks in the cloakroom.

He made his way directly to the bar, past the male dancers in their cages. Though he did pause briefly to watch Hayden in his white leather hot pants and white cupid wings strapped across his defined shoulders.

Draco didn't like to confess he had a type but if he were forced to admit it to himself, Hayden came close with his dark hair and overly-defined swarthy body. Hayden gave him a little twerk from his cage and a cheeky wink from over his shoulder.

Draco smirked, maybe one day... he thought to himself, though he'd never been tempted with any of his dancers before. It just got too messy to mix business with pleasure, even if tonight was purely the latter.

'Draco,' greeted Gabriel from behind the bar.

'Gabe,' Draco shook his hand too. 'Been working out?' he said, eyeing the topless man up and down. He only wore white leather trousers and white cowboy boots. He was quite something to behold.

'Just trying to catch your eye, boss.'

'Now, now, Gabe,' he said with an amused smile.

Gabe was a terrible flirt but far too angelic looking for Draco's taste. His tousled fair curls made him look like he was straight from a Renaissance painting of an angel. He normally worked his shifts side by side with his twin, Jeremiel, and the two looked like they were real life versions of Raphael's 'Two Cherubs', especially when they would purposely mimic the pose of the painting.