seahorse motel; drarry | ON HOLD

chapter 1

TRACK 1
mermaid motel
lana del rey

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cigarettes and sex. that's what the seahorse motel was known for. hell, this damned building was notorious for all things akin to cheaters, druggies and murderers. each room erupted with the aroma of every individual who had overstayed their welcome there, walls bearing scrapes and welts each holding their own story. harry hated the seahorse motel, yet he always found himself booking the same, king-sized room every time he visited las vegas — which was gradually growing more and more often than he liked to admit.

drawing in a huge lungful of nicotine, harry held his breath as he removed the cigarette from his mouth with two fingers before casting a white cloud out into the open air. the chilly breeze around him gently nipped at his skin, causing a ripple of goosebumps to travel up his forearms every once in a while. the brunet didn't mind, it was strangely comforting. the ice-cold shiver that would course through his body every time the wind glided past his face reminded him that he was alive. depressing, rain-filled clouds (that resembled his own, cancerous fumes exactly) loomed threateningly over harry's head as he took a huge drag of his dying cigarette before squashing out the minute flame and throwing it over the edge of his balcony. it just so happened that harry hated smoking, too.

as he tore open the sliding doors to his room, harry released a hefty sigh after entering the dark area. blood-red walls stared back at him as he fumbled for the two lamp switches. he pressed them on before collapsing on his huge, four-poster bed that was also a sickly, crimson red. a desk sat squat in one corner and a tiny tv stand crouched in the other. oh, how he hated this room. he could barely recount the many-a-times he'd plowed someone on that very bed, fantasising about other people whilst he did so. fantasising about one other person.

truth be told, harry couldn't stop thinking about this individual — though he buried those thoughts so far down it would be a good few years until he decided to face them. he sighed again, now was not the time to dwell on such things.

swinging his legs over the side of the bed, harry sat up and reached for the painkillers on the nightstand. they would feed the pit in his stomach. they had to. as his hand blindly searched the dusty, scarred surface for his trusty packet of pills, it clumsily knocked over a photograph causing harry to hiss as it hit the floor and smashed. he picked up the paper that had fallen from it with such force it almost ripped. harry felt his heart lurch as he stared down at the moving images of his two oldest friends, hermione and ron — who both waved at him with big, cheesy grins. he hadn't seen them for some time, now. they were living their perfect life in a perfect home with two perfect children. they didn't need harry anymore, so he simply drifted further and further away until a year had gone by and he still hadn't conversed with either of them. of course, hermione had tried to reach out, but he blew her off with empty excuses.

ron and harry had been in one of their fights for two years at this point, each one just as stubborn as the other. harry had 'fucked and chucked' ginny, ron's younger sister, and the redhead turned on harry as soon as he found out, absolutely fuming. hermione sided with her fiancée (why wouldn't she?) and harry was left on his own. it was a different kind of lonely than he'd ever felt before. not like when he'd been locked in the cupboard under the stairs in privet drive, or when he'd fallen out with the entirety of hogwarts (or so it felt like) when his name had been chosen by the goblet of fire and everybody thought he had entered himself — this was blatant bullshit, but that's not the point. no, this kind of lonely ate away at his very core. harry wasn't sure how much longer he could live like this.

as the pit in harry's stomach grew, he decided this was another one of those issues he would tackle later.

throwing the paper aside as though that would suddenly rid him of guilt, harry seemingly forgot about his painkillers and turned his attention back to the ceiling — which seemed to be growing more and more interesting as memories flitted through his mind.

he didn't want to be in las vegas. he didn't want to feel so fucking depressed all the time. he didn't want to pine over somebody he hadn't even seen since his eighth year at hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry two years prior. he hated thinking. he hated smoking and for christ's sake he hated this damned motel!

harry closed his eyes forcefully, stealing one, huge, heaving breath as he felt a weight push down on his chest. life after hogwarts was supposed to be fantastic. he was destined to become an auror and constantly be surrounded by those he loved. he was meant to find that dream somebody (and truly, harry had no preference at this point. he'd fuck anything that moved — and was of age, of course). he was supposed to be anything but what he was now; a cold, constantly tired, substance abuser.

how had things gone so wrong? and why, oh, why couldn't he get that bloody blond out of his head?

an; this one's dead short but it is just the opening!! sorry if it feels a bit rushed i'm just suuuuper excited to get this out lol