seahorse motel; drarry | ON HOLD

chapter 2

TRACK 2
SLOW DANCING IN THE DARK
joji

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several shots of smirnoff vodka later and harry found himself running a shaky hand through his tangled hair. the other was clutching onto a small, transparent glass as if it would gain consciousness and run away. irritated, green eyes — glazed over from excessive intoxication — extenuated his evident exhaustion and disproportionate eye-bags. whenever he drank, harry felt a depression like no other. questions filtered through his dazed mind that he couldn't even answer sober, never-mind smashed out of his head. why was he even in las vegas?

oh, yeah. draco-bleeding-malfoy. now he remembered.

his heart decided to make another lurching careen as he thought of that small, pale boy with white-blond hair and dull, grey eyes. the very boy who harry despised with his entire being, up until sixth year.

imagine this: a haughty, young boy with silver hair — gelled so far back it appears to be giving him a free face lift — smiles smugly at you. he bears a cold expression, something akin to a sneer, as he holds his hand out. you refuse his proposal of friendship (mainly because he had insulted your first ever friend just seconds prior). from then on you two are absolute enemies. both of you grimace at just the mention of the other, revelling in any and every opportunity to ruin them. it's all just high school nonsense, nothing too serious. there's humour in the way you two mock each other, a spark of something else in every insult you throw.

things are so different now.

gone are those pencil-drawn eyes that housed so many gorgeous expressions. gone are those menacingly lush lips that for some reason you so desperately want to kiss. gone are the insults and constant rows. no longer will you hear his malevolent cackle after he'd humiliated you in front of half the school. no longer will you see the pink hue spread across his cheeks or wet glint of the eyes after you'd humiliated him in front of the other half of the school. no longer will you bicker with that feisty, young boy.

now imagine this: the end of the war has finally reared it's ugly head. so, so many have died. that boy has returned to finish his education at hogwarts, but he isn't the same. shame lingers on his face and in his voice during the brief encounters you have with him. he appears even paler than usual, sick. his forearm, vandalised with the dark mark that he does not deserve, constantly covered by long, black sleeves. most of the others are repulsed by him. they hex him and beat him whenever he leaves the safety of his dormitory. he spends hours poring over books in the library, one of the very few places where he isn't harassed. he finishes his final year at hogwarts, taking the spark with him. gone.

that's how harry felt.

the brunet's head pounded with anguish, grief and...shame? but, surely, he had absolutely nothing to be remorseful about! it wasn't his fault that draco was born into a family of death eaters. it wasn't his fault that the boy had chosen his father over hogwarts. therefore, it wasn't his fault that draco had been so miserable for those last two years at hogwarts. so, why did he feel like he could've been the one to stop it all?

placing the glass, held so tightly it should've smashed, onto the nightstand and lying down on a cardboard pillow, harry sighed once more. his stomach felt tight and the knot in his chest curled around his heart like a snake. he shouldn't have come to vegas. hell, he had only gone there because he heard from seamus finnigan — an old school friend — that draco was spotted somewhere near the seahorse motel area. harry had leaped at the news, travelling via apparition as soon as he heard. the seahorse motel was a familiar spot — but, oh, how he hated it.

harry had made up his mind; he would apparate home whenever he awoke the next morning. he would push those thoughts of malfoy so far away that he would have to run a mile before confronting them again and he would get back to work at the ministry and stop feeling so bad. if only he would stick by his words.

several minutes passed by before the sound of someone clattering around outside his door jerkily woke him up. harry, having just been on the verge of falling asleep, hastily rushed to said door. he would give this imbecile ten more seconds before he really lost it. the absurd noises continued, harry wasn't sure what time it was but he certainly knew it was too late for this shit. he threw the door open and prepared himself to step outside before stopping dead in his tracks. he rubbed his eyes with his palms, had he really drank that much?

there, clumsily fumbling to one of the vacant rooms with a pair of crimson-red high heels in one hand and an equally as red chain of clattering keys in the other, was draco lucius malfoy. glossy, red lipstick was smeared across his lips and the ceiling lights above his head bounced off his snow-white hair and turned it a pretty pink shade. harry's eyes wandered to the boy's figure. he wore a skintight, long-sleeved turtleneck that cut off at a point where harry could just see the bottom of his ribs. a short, black skirt announced his rounded ass and harry couldn't help but stare. his gaze returned to malfoy's face, spotting several hickeys dotted under his jaw and on his neck. a burning sensation of desire roared through harry's stomach. draco shakily lifted his head, fear-stricken and sweating. harry had thought the blond was obviously drunk — what, with the way he had been slamming about and stumbling every-which-way — but now he saw that the boy appeared much more paranoid, innocent and scared.

draco spotted harry and a look of panic flushed his face. his eyes widened and contorted his face like a deer caught in headlights. he immediately crossed his arms against his stomach to hide it, blushing at the exposure. harry could almost feel the embarrassment from where he was standing (or, more accurately, leaning against the door frame and ogling the blond before him).

harry glared into draco's eyes, wincing at how hurt they looked. he remembered those eyes so fondly, and now they were darker than ever. he saw a flash of hesitance cross draco's features before the blond clambered over to the brunet and pushed his way inside. the shock of what had just happened dazed harry momentarily as he heard his own door slam shut and the rapid breathing of draco from his right.

maybe he wasn't going to sleep tonight, after all.

an; i keep making these really short because i run out of things to say and i'm pretty sure i've already cut this story a chapter short yikes

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