Originally posted May 5th 2007

Title: Danse Lascive
Author: alisanne
Characters: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slash, Fluff.
Themes/kinks chosen: Autagonistophilia (arousal by being on stage), Gay men, Foot massage.
Word Count: 3090
Summary: Harry and Draco make a deal that should be advantageous for both of them.
Author's notes: Thanks to my beta, sevfan, who is always standing by with words of support and great suggestions. Thanks also to my fellow slash chatters who held my hand through this. Love you, ladies!


~

Danse Lascive

~

“You lost the game, Draco, and a deal’s a deal.”

Draco scowled. Blaise’s smug attitude was beginning to annoy him. “Well, I think you cheated,” he said, throwing down his cards.

Blaise simply raised an eyebrow. “Unless you can prove it, what you think is irrelevant. You still lost, so we still get to see you perform.”

Heaving an exasperated sigh, Draco pushed away from the table. “Oh, all right,” he muttered, beginning to unbutton his robes.

“Oh, not here,” Blaise said. “The bet didn’t specify where you were to perform, so we’ve decided to change venues. Other people deserve to see you, too.”

Draco looked around at the grinning faces of his so-called friends, heart sinking. “Merlin, what have you fuckers planned now?”

Pansy’s wicked smile said it all. “We are going to get you a date,” she said.

~

“This’ll be brilliant, Harry, trust me.” Seamus grinned at Harry as he pushed open the door to the club, leaving Harry to follow.

Sighing, Harry stared up at the sign. The Wandering Wand. Great.

Shaking his head, he walked in behind his friend, wondering how he’d managed to be talked into this. Yes, he’d come out to his close friends several months before, but he’d not anticipated them all trying to get him dates with men. This was his third excursion to a gay wizards’ club in as many weeks, and Harry was beginning to wonder if he shouldn’t just have shut up about the whole thing.

Why can’t I just meet someone who I can just understand, who understands me? I need someone to whom I don’t have to say every bloody thing aloud.

Walking in, however, he was pleasantly surprised. The place was tastefully decorated, and there was a mixed crowd of both men and women, all of whom appeared respectable. Harry had to admit that several of the men were quite attractive. His eyes lingered on several blonds before moving on.

Located to his left was a stage. A band was there playing background music and several couples were dancing. Harry blinked when he realized that most of the couples were men with men or women with women.

Just when Harry thought he’d lost Seamus he spotted him waving at him from a table that was right next to the stage, and Harry hastened over, settling into a chair across from him. “Great table. So, I guess you come here a lot,” he said.

Seamus grinned. “Used to, ‘til Dean and I got together. It’s a good place to meet men.”

“So where is Dean, anyway?” Harry asked, looking around.

“He’ll be here later. Got held up at work. You know how busy Gringotts keeps their employees.”

Harry nodded. Neville was always complaining about Bill’s odd hours. Harry had begun to wonder how long Neville would remain his roommate, given how much time he spent at Bill’s. “Yeah, Neville’s mentioned it.”

“Oh, is he still with Bill?” Seamus asked.

Harry nodded, and they ordered drinks as they chatted. Soon Harry was more relaxed, sipping his red currant rum and laughing at Seamus’ stories about the goings on at his department in the Ministry.

After a few minutes the lights dimmed, and Seamus settled back into his chair. “Oh good, the show’s about to start,” he said. “I believe it’s amateur night.”

“Welcome to The Wandering Wand’s amateur night,” the bandleader said. “Our first performer is going to be singing a traditional Irish song. Please welcome, Elias Griffiths.”

“What’s amateur...?” Harry’s mouth fell open as a brown-haired man from the audience strode up to the stage, and after a whispered consultation with the band, began singing.

His voice turned out to be quite good, actually, and soon the audience was clapping along with him in encouragement. When he finished his performance, he bowed and returned to his seat amidst applause, flushed with success.

“How do they choose who gets up there?” Harry asked.

“Anyone can,” Seamus said. “You just have to give your name to the announcer over there.” He pointed to a man standing to the side of the stage holding a long parchment. As Harry watched, he saw a familiar woman go up to him and say something.

“Hey, is that Parkinson?” Harry asked, squinting.

“Looks like,” Seamus said.

“Wonder what she’s doing here? Do you think she’s gay?”

Seamus shook his head. “As I recall, she married Theodore Nott a couple of years ago. Yeah, look, there he is. This must just be a night out for the Slytherins.”

Harry looked where Seamus was pointing, startled to see Nott, Crabbe, Goyle and Zabini there. There were a couple of extra chairs there as well, and a small thrill ran through him. “Do you think Malfoy is here, too?” he asked, as casually as he was able.

Seamus’ speculative look went unnoticed. “Mmm, can’t say. I haven’t ever seen him here, but that doesn’t mean much.”

“I wonder if she’s going to perform,” Harry said.

“I don’t think so,” Seamus said. “Looks like she’s helping someone else.”

Harry glanced over to the edge of the stage, his mouth dropping open when he saw Malfoy. He seemed to be arguing with Parkinson and the announcer, until finally he nodded his head, a resigned look on his face.

The blond looked good Harry had to admit. He was in Muggle clothes and his hair was longer, swept back over his shoulders but hanging loosely down his back. His body had become even more athletic since school, Harry noted.

“What do you think he’s going to do?” Harry asked.

Seamus shrugged. “Guess we’ll have to see,” he said. “I didn’t think Malfoy had any talents.”

Harry began to reply, but was cut off by the start of a slow, seductive tune. As he watched, Malfoy swept onto the stage, arrogance and challenge oozing from every line of his body. He struck a pose and the room went silent.

Slowly, he began to undulate his hips as he danced, the tight trousers and billowy white shirt he was wearing only serving to accentuate the lithe movements of his trim body. His eyes surveyed the room, a small smirk playing about his lips as he did so. When his eyes met Harry’s, however, Malfoy seemed to falter for just a second before he resumed his dance. Harry felt that look down to his toes.

The music got faster, as did the audience’s clapping, yet Malfoy never fell behind, somehow managing to spin and twirl in time, gyrating his hips to the primal beat, which seemed to match the patter of Harry’s heart as he watched.

Again and again Malfoy’s eyes returned to Harry’s until it appeared that he was dancing for Harry alone, spinning and twirling, his feet tapping an impossibly complex beat in counterpoint to the music, and just when it seemed as if surely he would have to stop, to give up, the music ended, and Malfoy stopped at the same time, back in the same pose from which he had started.

The applause was deafening and Harry blinked as if he was waking from a trance. He flushed when he realized he was incredibly aroused, and his gaze automatically flicked down to Malfoy’s crotch. It took him only a second to see that yes, Malfoy, too, had clearly been affected by the sensuality of his own dance.

When Harry’s eyes came back up to Malfoy’s face it was obvious by his broad smirk that the blond had noticed his perusal. Harry averted his eyes.

“That was Draco Malfoy doing the dance of the swallow. Brilliant job, wot? Next we have...”

But Harry wasn’t listening to what the announcer was saying, he only had eyes for Malfoy as he exited the stage.

Pushing back his chair he said, “I’m going to go say hello,” not waiting to hear if Seamus replied before he left.

He got backstage fairly fast, and spotted someone with blond hair hurrying along the corridor. “Malfoy!” he called.

Malfoy stopped and turned to look at him. “Potter. Well, well, imagine seeing you here.”

“That was quite the dance you did,” Harry said. “I just wanted to say... um...” He fumbled to a stop.

Malfoy tilted his head. “What, Potter? What did you want to say?”

“It was really... erm...”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m a bit tired. That particular dance takes a lot out of me, so I’m going to find a quiet place to put my feet up.” As he turned away he tossed over his shoulder, “You’re welcome to come with me if you like.”

They found a secluded area just off a deserted dining room that had a couple of sofas and chairs, and Malfoy settled there with a grateful sigh. Placing his feet onto a table, he groaned in relief.

“I just had to get off them for a bit,” he said, slumping down into the sofa cushions. “I really need a foot massage now.”

Harry grinned. “Bring them here, then,” he said, sitting next to Malfoy on the sofa and patting his leg.

Malfoy cracked one eye open. “What?”

“Swing your feet over here and I’ll massage them.”

Malfoy’s face was a study of suspicion and incredulity, but after a moment of hesitation he did move his feet towards Harry, who put them in his lap and, after removing Malfoy’s shoes and socks, began massaging them.

Malfoy closed his eyes in bliss. “Oh gods, Potter, where did you learn to do that?”

“St. Mungo’s,” Harry replied, kneading Malfoy’s insoles firmly. “It’s a part of Healer training.” He ran his knuckles rhythmically along the balls of Malfoy’s feet and the blond’s head fell back onto the arm of the sofa with a soft thud.

“I take back every bad thing I’ve ever said about you,” Malfoy moaned. “Only never stop doing that.”

Harry chuckled. “You mean we could have been friends in school if only I’d given you massages?” he asked.

Malfoy smiled. “I may have been suspicious of your motives, but it would have gone a long way. It would have been a good recruiting tool for your side, anyway.”

Harry snickered. “We should have thought of that.”

Malfoy’s only response was another moan, and Harry felt himself hardening once more. Having Malfoy’s feet in his lap certainly didn’t help that condition either...

“Er, so do you come here often?” he asked in an attempt to take his mind off his body’s unwanted reaction.

Malfoy cracked an eye open. “Occasionally,” he said. “You?”

Harry shrugged. “It’s my first time here. Seamus thought I might enjoy it.”

“Yes, I saw that you came in with Finnigan,” Malfoy said. “Are you two...?”

“Oh, no. He’s with someone else, you remember Dean Thomas?” At Malfoy’s nod he continued. “He’s with Seamus, and I’m... Well, I’m not with anyone at the moment. I think he was hoping I could find a date here tonight. What about you?”

“You mean am I with anyone?” At Harry’s nod, Malfoy shook his head. “No. I think that’s why my friends made me come here tonight. Well, partly... I lost a bet, so they made me come here to dance, but I think it was a subtle attempt to get me a date.”

“Yeah, about that dance...” Harry said, now stroking Malfoy’s ankles in long, even movements, a part of him cataloguing the superb muscle tone beneath his fingers. “They said it was amateur night, but what you did was anything but amateur.”

Malfoy laughed. “That’s because I’m a professional dancer, Potter, so I suppose I was cheating. It did look as if you enjoyed my... presentation, though.”

“Actually, it looked to me as if you enjoyed it more than anyone.” Harry cringed as the words left his mouth, suddenly worried that Malfoy would take offence.

When Malfoy lifted his head, though, Harry sucked in a breath. The blond’s normally pale grey eyes had gone stormy, and the look in their depths made Harry’s arousal flare to a fever pitch once again. It was a look that he understood.

“In fact, I do enjoy performing, as you noticed. It... arouses me. That was part of the price I had to pay to make dance my career.” Malfoy closed his eyes. “And my friends are aware of that, hence, their insistence that I dance here tonight. I guess they thought I would attract someone interesting. Merlin spare me from ‘helpful’ people.”

Harry snorted his agreement. He was a bit tired of being dragged about on his friends’ quest to find him a date... He eyed Malfoy speculatively as he began massaging his calves in slow, soothing circles. “Well then, I have an idea, Malfoy,” he said.

“I think you can start calling me Draco. You’ve got your hands all over me, after all.”

Harry chuckled. “Fair enough, Draco. So, what about this? Perhaps if we told them we were dating each other our friends would leave us alone.”

Draco sat up and stretched his legs further into Harry’s lap. “You’d be willing to do that?” he asked. At Harry’s nod he said, “Mmmm, it’s not a bad idea, but they’ll take some convincing. They may not believe it unless...” He got a wicked look in his eyes. Harry blanched.

“Unless what?”

“Well, we should establish if we have any sexual compatibility,” Malfoy said, the insole of his foot beginning to rub slowly against Harry’s groin, smirking when the already respectable bulge there grew larger. “Bit of a foot fetish there, Potter?” he drawled.

Harry’s blush was telling, and with a wink, Draco pulled his legs back, shifting so that he was crawling towards Harry’s end of the sofa. “Now that we’ve established that,” he said, “we need to look as though we’ve been messing about already.”

Harry’s mouth went dry. “What do you... oh...”

Draco crawled atop him, Harry moaning softly as their bodies aligned knees to chest.

“Let’s make it look good, then, shall we?” Draco whispered before fastening his mouth to Harry’s neck.

Even fully clothed, Harry could still feel the heat of Draco’s body above his. He closed his eyes and whimpered as his arms went automatically around Draco and he tilted his head back, exposing more sensitive skin to Draco’s lips.

Harry’s legs widened, and he groaned aloud as Draco settled between them, shifting until their groins were aligned.

Draco smiled at Harry’s reaction to his nibbling kisses. Harry’s whimpers were incredibly arousing, and Draco thrust his hips against Harry’s in response to the erotic sounds he was making.

“Fuck, Draco...”

Harry heard Draco’s warm chuckle. “Not on the first date, Harry,” he said, licking his way steadily down his chest. “You’ll think I’m easy. Let’s see how this goes first, shall we?”

Harry began to laugh, then he realized that Draco was touching his bare skin. Somehow his robes had been opened and his shirt and trousers undone to reveal his chest to Draco’s interested gaze.

Draco hurriedly unbuttoned his clothes, gasping as their warm skin brushed together for the first time. He slowly worked his way down, plucking at Harry’s nipples, lips circling the muscles of his chest, scattering love bites randomly. Whenever Draco got to a sensitive spot, Harry would buck upward and their cocks would rub together, dragging a growl from Harry’s throat.

Soon, Draco could smell the musk of Harry’s arousal, and he leaned back up, capturing Harry’s lips in a deep kiss even as his agile fingers wrapped around Harry’s cock.

Harry moaned into Draco’s mouth at the first touch of his hand on his most sensitive flesh, his hands clutching at Draco’s back convulsively.

Draco fumbled, and soon, both their weeping organs were sliding wetly through his hands. Harry gasped, opening his eyes to stare into Draco’s intense gaze as he expertly wanked them both.

“Gods... so good,” he stammered. “I’m gonna...”

“Yes, go ahead,” Draco whispered back, his face so close that Harry could see flecks of blue in his eyes. “Come for me.”

The hungry note in Draco’s voice made something inside Harry ignite and he arched hard, his orgasm spurting from him and pulsing between their aligned bodies as Harry came hard.

Draco followed closely, his hot seed joining Harry’s as it coated their bellies in spasms. He buried his face in Harry’s neck, biting down as he shuddered through his release.

“Um, what was that about not fucking on the first date?” Harry whispered after taking a few moments to catch his breath.

Draco laughed softly. “That wasn’t fucking, not really. It was just our bodies introducing themselves,” he said. “And it just means our second date should be interesting.”

“Why wait? Let’s start it now,” Harry suggested.

“What?” Draco said, lifting his head to stare down at Harry.

“Let’s have our second date now. You know, when real fucking is allowed?”

Draco smiled slowly. “I like the way you think. All right, but not here. We need to go somewhere private.”

“Your feet better?” Harry asked as they both stood up, cast a couple of Cleaning Charms, and began to refasten their clothes.

Draco nodded. “They feel great. You give a fine foot massage, amongst other things.”

Harry blushed and began adjusting his robes to hide the marks on his neck. Draco reached over and stopped him, fingers brushing the raw spots gently. “The whole point of my leaving those was to prove to our friends that they should stop setting us up with people, remember? We have to let them show.”

Harry nodded.

By the time they walked back out to the main part of the club, Dean had joined Seamus, and Harry, blushing furiously, said his farewells, telling them he’d met someone and was leaving. By the way Seamus was looking at his neck, Harry knew he’d have some explaining to do the next day. Glancing over to the Slytherin table, Harry saw Draco looking a bit sheepish as he said goodbye to his friends.

They met by the door, and, following an instinct he didn’t really understand, Harry clasped Draco’s hand in his, entwining their fingers before they walked out. He swore he could feel the stares of their former schoolmates on his back all the way.

When they got out to the street, Draco looked down at their linked hands. “You know, the bit where we’re supposed to be pretending to be boyfriends? How about we skip the pretending and just move on the boyfriend part?”

Harry grinned. “You know, that’s just what I was thinking.”

~