Sun, Sand and Sambuca (A Drarry FanFiction)

Chapter Two

   "I'm Draco by the way," he said, sticking out a hand after they had given the shirtless bartender their rather long order.

Harry wasn't sure he'd heard right. "What?" he shouted as they shook hands, enjoying the opportunity to get close to his ear, which was near his pale neck that looked ever-so lickable.

The blond laughed ruefully. "Draco!" he shouted again and shrugged with mild embarrassment. "It's a star constellation."

"I like it," Harry assured him as their drinks started appearing one by one in front of them. "It's better than Harry – do you know how many Harrys there are in the world? I've snogged at least two, and there's nothing weirder than moaning your own name while someone tries to get your pants off!"

Draco was laughing properly now, and Harry felt warmth practically glowing from his groin. He was even more beautiful when he laughed.

"So which one's your boyfriend if it's not the ginger," Draco said, handing over an impressive wodge of cash to the guy who'd finally finished making all their drinks. Rather startlingly, this time the shots of Sambuca had been lit on fire. Harry gulped.

"None of them," he said, giving Draco a sly look. "What makes you so sure I'm taken?"

Draco picked up one of the trays (they'd needed two this time) and gave him an equally sly look back. "Surely you're not single?" he said, weaving back through the throng.

Harry felt oddly proud at the compliment. "Sadly yes," he said with a dramatic roll of the eyes.

Draco glanced over his shoulder at him, eyebrows raised, then turned again to watch where he was going least he end up in the same predicament as Harry.

Their two groups of friends weren't dancing all that far away from each other, so gravitated towards the two men to fish out their various drinks orders. Draco's stag, the black guy named Blaise, was utterly plastered and being propped up by a smaller Eurasian guy called Theo, and a black haired girl called Pansy. They joined Harry's lot enthusiastically, all extinguishing then shooting down the fresh sambuca that Harry managed to get through without throwing up. Seamus was jumping around to Urban Cookie Collective like a lunatic, but Harry was able to at least tell Draco his and Ron's names, as well as Neville, Michael and Terry as they joined back in dancing, new drinks in hand.

"Thanks for the round," Harry told him as they found somewhere to discard they empty trays.

But Draco shook his head. "It was the least I could do," he said, touching Harry's wet shirt with his fingertips, sending goose bumps all over his flesh. "Come on," he said with a grin, and tugged on Harry's hand. "Let's dance."

Draco was mesmerising. The way he moved his hips was something reminiscent of a snake being charmed, and Harry was soon drawn into his sphere of movement. They were body rolling together, and Harry's breath was shallow as they gyrated perfectly in time, eyes catching as they smiled and bit their lips. It was like everyone else dropped away; they could have been in bed as far as Harry was concerned.

Except, when he leant in a little closer, hoping to snag that elusive first kiss, the song changed and Draco spun away, grabbing Blaise as they both bellowed in recognition and delight. Harry stood abandoned for a brief moment, before deciding two could play that game (as the song now blaring so rightly suggested), and found a new partner of his own in Seamus' uni mate Terry. He was more handsome than pretty like Draco, but still very appealing with his chocolatey brown eyes and mop of sandy blond hair. He grinned at Harry and skimmed his fingers up Harry's chest. "You're doing a great job," he shouted over the music in his strong Leeds accent. "Seamus looks happy."

And he did, Harry noted, as the groom-to-be pulled Blaise away from Draco, yelling about how great it was to be getting married. Harry saw an opportunity and snuck his fingers through Draco's, pulling him back towards him and Terry. "Draco's the other best man," Harry told Terry who rose his drink sloppily in cheers.

"To the bestest of men!" he cried.

The night went on, creeping closer to morning, and the two stag parties continued writhing in the somewhat dive of a bar until, quite suddenly, Seamus sat down on one of the couches in the corner, and slumped in a drunken stupor. Harry still hadn't been able to tie Draco down for a kiss, but his loyalty to his friend overrode that and he announced it was time to go home.