sassy_cissa (sassy_cissa) wrote in slythindor100, @ 2007-04-09 02:07:00 |
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Entry tags: | double entendre fun monday |
Monday Fun: What you do to survive
Original poster: megyal
What you do to survive
Author: megyal
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1, 612 (Seriously, I don't know what happened)
Warnings: A little angst. Smoking!Harry, too.
I was tagged by restunwritten with the prompt it'll turn your heart black (from 'Devils and Dust' by Bruce Springsteen). I tag ruinithil with the prompt 'the couple that shoots porn together, stays together'... you can thank my brother for that one...
The first thing Harry does when he steps inside the Muggle club is to light up a cigarette and inhale deep in relief. Hermione doesn't allow smoking at the new headquarters and he's tried to give it up, really, but it's the only vice he has. Everybody needs at least one vice. His lip twists a little as he takes a seat in a shadowed booth to the side of the stage; he ignores the inviting stares coming from both patrons and waiters, crossing his legs and draping his arm across the back of the plush seat.
"Drinking something, buddy?" A waiter asks at his elbow, a hint of an extra offer threaded through his American accent. Harry nods, shaking off the grogginess of trans-Atlantic Portkey, and orders a Guinness.
"Anything else?" The waiter says, patient and sly at the same time, when he returns with Harry's drink. Harry runs his free hand down the side of the bottle, feeling the chill of condensation before picking it up to take a long swig. The waiter's eyes are fixed on his the whole time. "We really like having English guys inside... here."
Harry's smile is small and cool. The waiter is blond, but it is a soft honeyed colour and his eyes are too blue.
"I'll know what I'm looking for when I find it," he says and the waiter winks at him ruefully as he leaves.
There is a fireman onstage and Harry thinks it is against every fire-code ever made for him to be taking off his suit like that. His gaze flicks around the crowd, taking in the large number of men yelling and whistling, some of them nuzzling each other in the welcoming dark. A group of women are sitting about four booths away from his and they are chattering among each other and squealing with delight when the fireman strides off-stage and writhes in front of them.
"Alright, alright," the announcer says with a grin as Fireman Joe finishes up his set and goes backstage. "Yeah, we know what you like. You got some fire, now you get some ice. Help me welcome Bobbie onstage, you guys."
The atmosphere becomes even more excited and the women shush each other and get up to stand right at the edge of the stage, giggling at each other as they clutch money in their fists. Harry tries not to smile as he lights another cigarette.
The house lights go down and when they come back up, there is a white gauzy curtain to the back of the high stage. A slender figure is backlit behind it, little wings poking to the sides. When Draco Malfoy slinks out dressed in a full-white suit and smiling like he owns the whole strip-club and everyone in it, that cruel little half-sneer which makes Harry's hand shake just a little, the whole place goes wild.
Malfoy purses his lips as he shrugs off the fake white feathery wings, the black straps sliding down his arms. He drops them near the edge of the stage and raises his hands to stretch like a debauched angel, the look in his eyes smoky and knowing as he brings his hands down to unbutton the jacket. He moves as if he dances for the devil, slinking curvy lines and Harry beckons to the waiter and asks him a question. The waiter looks up at Malfoy hooking his thumbs into the waistband of those innocent-white trousers, wriggling his slim hips while the tip of his tongue slides across the top row of his teeth as he grins.
The women shriek, the men yell and the waiter frowns.
"Yeah, we have back-rooms, but Bobbie doesn't do that sort of--"
"He will," Harry says, tapping idly into the ash-tray. "Tell him Potter wants to see him."