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Entry tags:	dm/hp; first dance; gift fic

Fic: First Dance (Harry Potter - DM/HP, NC17) Happy Birthday Ms. Ravenqueen55

Title: First Dance, NC-17

Author: hpstrangelove  

Pairing: Harry Potter - DM/HP

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 2824

Summary: Harry has an encounter with a stranger at a nightclub. The stranger isn’t really a stranger after all.

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters belong to J.K. Rowling. No monetary profit made on this story.

Warning: Hand-job, Sickening Sweet Fluff (hey, it’s a birthday fic – what do you expect?) , M/M sex, no DH spoilers.

Beta: None (so feel free to point out any and all mistakes in a constructive manner)

AN Note: Written for ravenqueen55  's birthday, October 3 (and no matter how old you get, just remember – you’ll always be younger than me!).


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Harry had to shout to be heard above the loud music pulsing over the dance floor.

“Hey Ron, I had a good time, but I really need to get going. I have work to catch up on tomorrow if I’m going to get next weekend off for the wedding.”

“Sure mate, sure,” Ron slurred. “Just be careful to not splinch yourself on the way home. You know what a few drinks do to your concentration.”

“I will Ron. Catch up with you later. Seamus, Neville…take care of him, O.K.?”

“Sure Harry, no problem,” Neville replied with a smile.

They’d been at the club celebrating Ron’s last Saturday night of freedom - his last Saturday night as a bachelor - before he and Hermione were married the next weekend. Although Ron had made a big deal about his plans for setting a shagging record tonight, he wouldn’t have dreamt of having sex with anyone but Hermione. He danced and had fun flirting with all the girls, but did more drinking and boasting than actual touching.

Anyone watching Harry might think his avoidance of the dance floor and the opposite sex was to keep from showing up Ron, and that was just fine with Harry. He wasn’t ashamed of the fact that he liked blokes better; he just didn’t want to be reading it as a headline in the Daily Prophet tomorrow.

For appearances sake, Harry had done his share of dancing, but his heart wasn’t in it. After a while, he found himself alone, nursing his drink and feeling a bit sorry for himself. Every one of his friends had paired up by now. Ron was the last. Harry always thought he’d end up with Ginny, but she was a smart girl. It was she who made him aware of the type of person that turned him on, and also that in the Wizarding World, it was totally acceptable to love someone of the same sex. She, Ron, and Hermione were the only ones who knew, though. It was difficult for Harry to overcome his years of living with the Dursleys and their attitudes towards same sex relationships, so Harry had never gone about seriously looking for a partner. He could normally deal with his singleness, but at times like these, when everyone else had someone but him, he found himself getting depressed. It was time to go home before Ron noticed.

When it didn’t seem like Ron was about to head back to their table anytime soon, Harry made his way out onto the crowded dance floor to say his good-byes. After being assured by Seamus and Neville that they’d see Ron got safely home, Harry made his way to the back alley exit where he’d be able to safely Apparate without the chance of being seen by any Muggles on the main street.

Even with the blaring music and the noises coming from couples groping each other in the dark passages off the main hallway, Harry should have been more alert to the sound of someone following him. His mind was on other things, though, his senses dulled by the drinks and his moroseness. Just as he was about to press the exit door open, a hand snaked around his waist and pulled him backwards into one of the empty passageways. Startled, adrenaline pumping, Harry reached for his wand but froze when his captor’s hand moved from Harry’s waist to his groin and began to massage Harry though the material of his jeans.

His captor held Harry firmly against his own body, an unmistakable hardness pressing against Harry’s arse. A soft voice began to whisper into Harry’s ear. “You’re not leaving so soon, are you beautiful? You never gave me a chance to ask you for a dance. It’s not too late. How about we have our own private dance right here.” The words were followed by a playful lick and pull at Harry’s ear, then a tickle of wetness as his captor’s tongue made its way down Harry’s neck. A soft moan escaped Harry’s mouth as he felt teeth lightly bite and suck, and when the hand on his crotch undid the zip and slid inside his pants, Harry would have fallen if his captor hadn’t manoeuvred them up against the wall.

“You feel so nice in my hand, so hard and firm. You make such pretty sounds, too. You like this, what I’m doing, don’t you?” the voice asked in a low, sensual tone. Reaching under Harry’s shirt with the free hand, the stranger began to pinch and tease Harry’s nipples, causing them to harden under the touch. Harry was barely able to form words, so lost in the pleasure and heat of these new sensations. Nothing in his fantasies had ever come close to what the real thing felt like.

“Yes, I…gods, don’t stop…” he replied breathlessly. Harry knew he should put up a struggle. He had no idea who this was, and there were many rouge Voldemort sympathisers who would go to great lengths to harm or kill the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice-To-Kill-The-Dark-Lord, but what was being done to him just felt too good for him to want it to stop. If he was going to die, at least he would enjoy himself before he went.

The next thing he knew, the stranger had pushed Harry’s jeans and pants down to where they fell around his ankles, exposing Harry to the cool air of the club. The stranger began pumping his own freed cock against Harry’s bare arse, keeping the same rhythm his hand had in stroking Harry’s hardness. His captor’s hand was working magic, massaging and squeezing, moving up and around the head, rubbing over the slit as it began to drip wet with precome. Harry couldn’t help himself and thrusted wantonly into the warm moistness of the hand, then back into the erection rubbing between his cheeks. He couldn’t keep himself from imagining how good it would feel to have that hard cock breaching his entrance instead. He was so close, his breath coming in short, panting gasps, the beating of his heart roaring in his ears.

“Harry, come. Come for me now,” his captor commanded. With a shout, shocks of electricity raced through Harry’s veins, explosions of light going off behind his eyes, his cock pulsing his seed into the stranger’s hand and onto the wall. Harry heard a groan, then felt a wet flow of warmth against his own arse as the stranger came right after. Harry’s head was pulled back and turned to the side, his captor pressing his tongue between Harry’s lips. Harry parted them, letting the stranger invade his mouth, their tongues exploring, tasting, sucking. The kiss was savage and tender at the same time, seeming to go on forever. It ended all too soon, but the stranger continued to embrace Harry from behind, holding him and nuzzling his neck as they both recovered from their orgasms.

Suddenly, it hit Harry and he tensed, his body on full alert – the stranger had used his name!

Harry started to reach down for his wand, then felt stupid! It was in his side pocket of his jeans, which were still down around his ankles. His captor must have felt him tense, though. The other man grabbed both of Harry’s wrists and pinned them behind Harry’s back, pressing Harry hard against the wall.

“So you realise I know who you are, do you?” the man asked, then sighed heavily and continued.

“Harry, look. Don’t worry. I really don’t want to hurt you. Just give me a chance to explain.”

Now that his captor was using his normal voice instead of the seductive whisper, Harry knew immediately who it was. Closing his eyes, he prepared for the worse.

“Malfoy,” Harry said flatly.

“Harry, I mean it. I don’t want to hurt you, but I’m not going to let you go so you can just turn around and hex me. I want your word you’ll listen to what I have to say.”

“If I listen, Malfoy,” Harry spat, “can I hex you when you’re through?”

Malfoy made a strange sound, a sound that Harry never expected to hear coming from Malfoy, of all people. Malfoy laughed!

“How Slytherin of you Harry. Yes, I suppose that’s only fair. If I can’t convince you of my good intentions, that I mean you no harm, then you can hex me!”

With that, Malfoy slowly released Harry’s wrists, allowing Harry to turn around so they could see each other face to face for the first time that night. It was very dark, but Harry could see the brightness of Malfoy’s eyes. He had to fight an irresistible urge to lean in and taste Malfoy’s mouth again.

Harry pulled his pants and jeans back up, not quite sure of what to think now that he knew his passionate captor was Malfoy. Malfoy had less work to do in making himself presentable as he’d only freed his cock from his pants, not fully removing his trousers. It figured! Malfoy would do anything to have Harry at a disadvantage, including getting Harry naked in public while he stayed fully clothed.

“Come with me. This isn’t a good place to have this talk,” Malfoy stated, as he touched Harry’s arm.

“No Malfoy, I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t trust you. The deal was to listen, and only to listen! If you have something to say, then say it,” he hissed. “And quit calling me Harry. It’s Potter to you, Malfoy.”

With the quickness of a Seeker, Malfoy had Harry’s wrists pinned again, only this time they were facing each other and Harry struggled instead of just giving in to the heat he felt as his body pressed against Malfoy’s. Malfoy’s grip was like iron, though, and eventually Harry tired. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, panting from exhaustion and trying to catch his breath. How he hated Malfoy right now!

“Let me go, Malfoy. I don’t believe that you don’t want to hurt me, and this just proves it. Thought you’d have a laugh at my expense, did you? Fine! Go back to all your friends and tell them what a slut I am, that I’m so desperate for sex that I let a stranger get me off in public. Or better yet, just give the Daily Prophet an exclusive interview! That will get the word out the quickest.” Damn, he was so frustrated by it all. It took everything he had to not fucking cry! To think that his first experience with a man, so hot and so satisfying, was simply Malfoy toying with him!

Before he knew what was happening, Malfoy was kissing him again, as hungrily and demanding as the first time. Harry couldn’t help himself – Malfoy’s mouth was so sweet and moist – and simply surrendered, giving into the wonderful sensations and power of the kiss.

Slowly breaking away, their lips still only an inch apart, Malfoy started to talk. Not with the Malfoy voice, though: it was his captor’s seductive whisper again, and it sent shivers up and down Harry’s spine.

“I want to call you Harry, not Potter, and I don’t want to be Malfoy to you anymore. I want to hear you call me Draco. I want to hear you scream Draco as I make you come. I want to show you what it can be like to have me as your lover. I want to worship your body every night before we go to sleep and in the morning, I want to wake-up holding you in my arms. With our history, I can’t promise you we could have something that would last forever, but I can promise you we could have fun trying. I know you don’t believe a word of this, but this was planned, in a way. I knew you would be here tonight. I wanted to properly seduce you, not take you to a back room, but when I heard you tell Weasley you were leaving, I panicked. I didn’t know when I might ever get another chance. I had to stop you, and when I felt you in my arms, I just lost control.

“But I’m not going to say I’m sorry it happened, either. I’ve never done anything like this before. I thoroughly enjoyed it,” adding with a slight smirk, “and so did you. Don’t even try to deny it, Harry. Your body can’t lie.”

Harry wasn’t about to admit to anything, and changed the subject instead to the one thing Malfoy had said that shocked him to the core.

“What do you mean, that this was planned?” Harry asked.

“Let’s just say you have friends that care about you very much, Harry, and they want to see you happy.”

“Oh please, Malfoy. If you want me to believe anything you say, you have to tell me how you knew we’d be here tonight. We don’t usually come to this place.”

“Come now, Harry. I promised I wouldn’t say anything. But think about it – how many people know you that well that they’d think you might be open to my overtures? The list can’t be that long.”

Harry’s head was swimming. This was planned! The only people who really knew about the party tonight were the guys, and none of them would have said anything to Malfoy. Hermione and Ginny knew, but Harry’s love life was the last thing on Hermione’s mind and Ginny…Ginny?

It had to be her. During one of their long nights of introspection, he’d confessed to her how hot he thought Malfoy was, but he didn’t think she really knew his true feelings. He didn’t even really know his true feelings. But then again, she’d realised he was interested in blokes long before he had. It wouldn’t be surprising if she figured things out about Malfoy from his one comment. And she always was trying to get him to take a chance and go out when he was asked. He just was never sure that when someone showed him any attention, if they weren’t only interested in ‘Harry Potter, the Hero’ rather than ‘Harry Potter, the person’.

At least with Malfoy, he was sure the interest was in ‘the person’.

“I did enjoy tonight, Malfoy, but you have to understand. I don’t know if I can trust you. I’ve never trusted anyone before, and I certainly am having a hard time in thinking you might be the first. I just don’t know if this is the right time to make a decision that has so much potential to explode in my face.”

Malfoy finally relaxed his grip on Harry’s wrists, again, and reluctantly let him go. He wanted to keep Harry in his arms and never set him free. But he could take his time. He’d make Harry his yet.

“Fair enough, Harry. We can take things slow. We’ll start with, say, dinner one day next week. How does that sound?”

Rubbing his sore wrists – there were sure to be bruises tomorrow – Harry had trouble looking away from Malfoy’s hypnotic eyes. Could he dare hope? There was so much risk in allowing Malfoy into his life at all, and even more so if Malfoy became his lover. If Harry started to really care, the pain of betrayal if Malfoy was only using him could be devastating. On the other hand, if the relationship didn’t last, he could still have a bit of fun for a change. He was sure Malfoy would be an excellent lover, teaching him what physical pleasure was all about. Harry had been wanting someone like Malfoy for a long time now.

No, that was wrong. Harry had been wanting Malfoy for a long time now.

“All right, dinner then. Send me an owl at the office, or, er…stop by…you know, in person…if you’d like,” he replied, then added, “Draco.”

Draco’s smile lit his entire face, unable to mask his obvious happiness at Harry’s words. It made Draco look – beautiful.

Harry decided maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, seeing more of these kinds of smiles on Draco’s face, especially if Harry was the one responsible for them.

“Right, then,” Harry began. “So, Draco...what are you doing next Saturday afternoon?”