Pas De Deux (A Drarry FanFiction)

Chapter Seven

The set wasn't all that complicated. A lot of the ambience had been created with lighting. So Harry just boxed up all the props and assisted the stage hands in taking down several large white boards, walking them out to the waiting removal truck. The sounds of night-time London buzzed around them in the alleyway by the theatre.

Harry wondered if Draco and the others might have gone back to the Leaky Cauldron for their revelry. He had half a crazy idea to pop in on his way home. He only wanted to congratulate Draco on absolutely killing it on stage.

But what if Harry walked in on Draco snogging Zabini? Or any guy for that matter? He didn't think he was strong enough to cope with having that image seared into his brain. It was best if he just went home, alone.

Several of the crew members patted Harry's back as he made his way up to do a sweep of the changing rooms.

"Great job, mate!"

"Hope to work with you again!"

Harry smiled as he climbed the stairs, tired, but surprisingly happy. Despite his own personal feelings regarding a certain dancer, the show had been a resounding success. He loved his job, after all, and felt very satisfied to see the show come together so well. He even had a week off before starting his next production, and this one was Shakespeare, so he was really looking forward to it.

After a couple of days playing video games in his pyjamas, he was bound to forget all about Draco Malfoy, he was sure.

Except...when he opened the door to the men's changing room, there was a solitary figure sat inside.

"Draco?" Harry spluttered, coming to a halt at the door's threshold. "I – what are you still doing here?"

Draco had obviously showered and changed. He was wearing a loose sort of black tunic that slipped off one of his shoulders, black leggings and nothing on his feet. His hair was damp and brushed back. The monochromatic blackness of his outfit made his hair and skin look even paler.

He was sat on one of the dressing tables where the guys usually spread their makeup and styling products. His legs were swinging gently back and forth, his toes almost touching the carpet. The place was pretty much deserted now, just a random scarf someone had left draped over the one of mirrors and some old, unwanted concealer lying on a nearby table. Draco's faux leather rucksack was sat by his feet

"I was waiting for you," Draco replied evenly, his long fingers curled around the side of the table by his thighs.

"Oh," said Harry. He was too afraid to come any closer into the room. "Well, it's pretty much just me left, now," he said, making awkward conversation. "I'll be locking up soon."

Draco licked his lips. He looked different with no makeup on at all. Still beautiful but rawer in a way.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" he asked bluntly. "Why did you leave the club?"

Pain lanced through Harry's chest. He didn't want to do this. If Draco wanted to make him squirm, it would be all too easy.

"You were incredible tonight," Harry said quietly. "I just wanted to tell you that. If you want to head out, I can lock the doors behind you."

"I don't want that," Draco said coldly. "I want you to explain to me why I was suddenly beneath your time, attention, or even civility."

"What?" Harry spluttered. He was so surprised he let the door swing shut, leaving him and Draco alone in the room together. It would look weird if he yanked it open again. He could just escape in a minute. But what had Draco meant? "I didn't – you're not – you were with Zabini."

Draco frowned. "I beg your pardon?" he asked.

Harry swallowed the lump that was threatening to rise in his throat. "You – we'd been holding hands, then you were making out with Blaise Zabini. It's okay, I know I'm not like you guys, I just-"

"I never made out with Blaise," Draco interrupted, tilting his head.

Harry closed his eyes. "Don't mock me, Draco, okay?" he whispered. "I saw you both, on the dance floor. He had his hands all over you, you were grinding, just about to snog. I – I didn't want to see that."

Fuck. He shouldn't be admitting all this to Draco. Why should he make himself any more vulnerable than he already was? But he felt he needed to defend himself. He'd never thought of Draco as being beneath him. That was crazy.

The touch of fingers against his hand startled Harry into snapping his eyes open. Draco had moved silently and was now standing in front of Harry, their hands once again entwined.

"I never made out with Blaise," Draco said softly but firmly. "That bastard broke my heart and humiliated me. He put his hands on me for about three seconds before I turned around and told him 'no', in no uncertain terms. I thought he was trying to mess with me. But now...I think he was trying to mess with you. Again."

Harry stepped back an inch so his shoulder blades were pressed against the closed door. He suddenly realised how dark it was in the changing room now the door was closed. Only a couple of the mirrors had their lights on, but it was enough to see Draco's features as Harry looked between their linked fingers and Draco's face. His expression was serious. Perhaps...concerned?

"Mess with me?" Harry repeated.

Draco nodded. "I'm pretty sure he worked out how crazy I am about you." Draco chuckled. "Oh, Blaise wouldn't be able to stand that."

Harry's mouth was hanging open, but he couldn't seem to shut it.

"You...what?" he asked. He'd heard what Draco had said well enough. He just couldn't quite believe it.

Draco tilted his head. He was a few inches taller than Harry, so he looked down at him through golden lashes. Then he lifted his free hand and placed it on Harry's waist, taking a step closer so their faces were so close Harry could feel Draco's minty breath on his lips.

"I think you're lovely, Harry Potter," Draco murmured. "And you not talking to me made me very upset."

Harry wasn't sure his heart was still beating. He was fairly certain he'd forgotten how to breath.

"I – I thought you and Zabini had the same bet," Harry admitted. It was like he was in a trance, unable to look away from Draco's silvery eyes. "I thought you were trying to see who could fuck me first."

Draco's look darkened and he stepped closer again, pressing their thighs...and other areas...together. "I would never do something so vulgar," Draco growled. Harry shivered. Partly in exhilarated relief. Partly because he was becoming so turned on he couldn't think straight. "But you are sort of right, in a way."

"How so?" Harry asked, worried the other shoe was going to drop after all.

Draco leaned in, so his lips were brushing against Harry's ear. "I have a feeling I'm always going to want to bet on you, Harry. Only a fool would bet against. You're too good."

"At what?" Harry asked, breathless.

"Everything," Draco replied, catching Harry's earlobe between his lips. Harry moaned and Draco chuckled. "You were also right in my intentions, although they had nothing to do with Blaise. In fact, I'd call them entirely mutually beneficial between both you and I."

"In what way?" Harry was aware he was asking a lot of questions, but he felt that was part of the little game Draco was playing. Except this was a game Harry wanted to be playing.

As if to prove him right, Draco trailed his lips just scarcely over Harry's cheek and looked him dead in the eye.

"I am so very desperate to fuck you," Draco drawled, seduction dripping from his every word.

Harry couldn't wait any longer. He couldn't second guess. He was dizzy with desire and Draco was right there.

He grabbed either side of Draco's gorgeous face, then yanked him down for a desperate, messy kiss.