A/N: I did 'Thursday's Child' in honour of David Bowie, so it seemed appropriate to do a one shot for Prince. Both the title and the strip club come from Prince song titles.
Falcon Shout Out: If you've ever dared to plumb the depths of the Changing Rooms from the QLFC you've already heard all about Stripper!Neville. He's a thing, and I kept threatening to write him a story and I never did. So here it is. Stripper!Neville. You're welcome.
Tumblr Shout Out: Everyone on tumblr tried to help me figure out what Neville's stripper name was, but nothorse is right. Neville Longbottom works. In fact, I can see the night club owner now "Right, pull the other one. What's your real name, then?" "It really is Neville Longbottom." He should do a double act with Oliver Wood.
This is for The 2016 Monthly Prompt List Challenge for April: word- Ripple.
The club was dark and smoky. Muggle. Theo's nostrils flared and he moved through the crowd carefully, doing his best to avoid touching anyone. The knowing smirk that Blaise flashed his way was irritating. Theo let his features slide into a haughty mask of carefully schooled indifference. Blaise's smirk grew even more knowing and Theo's wand hand twitched reflexively.
"You didn't have to come," Blaise taunted him.
That was true. Theo hadn't needed to come along. His eyes flicked over his shoulder and he tracked Draco's progress through the crowd. Draco and Blaise were the only people that he gave a damn about anymore. He wasn't about to let either one of them wander off into some sort of Muggle den of iniquity without some kind of back up, which Blaise, the arrogant bastard, knew.
"I know," Theo muttered.
Turning to look over his shoulder again, Theo frowned at Draco who had paused to speak to a person of indeterminate gender who appeared to be covered in some kind of body paint and not much else. Idiot.
"He'll be fine." Blaise watched Draco for a moment and then turned to Theo. "Come on, let's find a table."
Slinking effortlessly through the club, Blaise eventually found an empty table and he sank down into one of the chairs with a smug smile. He patted the chair next to him and quirked an eyebrow at Theo who sat down gracefully. A server hurried over and Blaise ordered drinks for the both of them. Theo didn't pay any attention. No doubt, whatever Blaise had ordered would be good.
The table was in front of a stage area that held two solitary poles. Theo frowned at the stage. What in Merlin's name were the two poles doing on the stage? He turned to ask Blaise's opinion when lights flashed over the stage in a series of changing colours. Theo blinked in surprise.
"What…" Theo faltered.
"The show is about to begin," Blaise replied.
"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to Erotic City—where the magic happens. Everyone put your hands together and welcome our first dancer!"
A disembodied voice spoke smoothly, and the surrounding throng burst into a cacophony of squealing, cheering, and applause. Theo cringed away from the sound and Blaise touched his hand with just the tips of his fingers. It was enough to ground him, and Theo shot Blaise a grateful look.
Low and throbbing, a strange Muggle music blared from black boxes that were on the stage. A lithe figure made her way onto the stage and began to bend and flex in mind-boggling ways. The woman took her clothing off, one piece at a time, and the crowd threw money on the stage; after the woman was a male dancer, and after him it was another woman.
"Let's give a warm Erotic welcome to the man you've all come to see—they say good things come in small packages, which is why he's so very, very bad—our very own Ne-ville!" The disembodied voice announced cheerfully.
The crowd went mad. Theo took a deep swallow of whatever-it-was that Blaise had ordered for him. A muscled figure moved out under the lights with an easy grace that drew squeals and whoops of excitement. Acres of warm, golden skin glistened under the lights. Theo's mouth went dry as his gaze focused on the ridiculously tiny, crimson-and-gold striped shorts that only served to emphasize the fact that this particular dancer was blessed in more ways than one. Theo's gaze slid up the well-defined muscles in the dancer's belly, past the rock-hard muscles of his arms and chest and stopped incredulously on the dancer's face. Theo choked on nothing but air. Blaise pounded on his back.
"Theo? Are you all right?" Blaise tried to yell over the screaming crowd.
Neville fucking Longbottom.
The music started and Neville… Neville fucking Longbottom began to… to undulate. His hips moved and the rest of him moved, his muscles flexing and bunching in ways that made Theo's eyes cross. That glistening, golden skin moved over muscle in a ripple that absolutely did not make Theo whimper quietly. Not that anyone could have heard him over the crowd anyway.
It became even worse when Neville moved over to one of the poles. At that point he began to do things that Theo was fairly certain couldn't be done without magic. There was no other explanation. Those muscles kept moving in a series of maneuvers that had Theo clutching his drink as though it were some kind of lifeline.
Time stopped as Neville did things that made Theo long to be either of the sturdy metal poles on the stage. His crush on Neville Longbottom had developed some time during their Seventh Year. Defiance and rebellion were a turn on for him, apparently. Who knew? The only problem had been his utter inability to do anything about it either during or after the War.
Blaise nudged him and smirked widely.
"You knew about this?" Theo demanded when there was a lull in the screaming.
Blaise shrugged. "Draco heard about it."
Theo's head snapped around and he began to scan the crowd for his soon-to-be-dead best friend. Draco's pale hair and skin made him fairly easy to pick out, and Theo spotted him in a dark corner being pressed up against a handy wall by… oh.
"Potter and Draco?" Theo leaned over and hissed at Blaise who shrugged again.
Now it all made sense. Potter and Longbottom had been thick as thieves during their Auror training—the two perfect golden Gryffindors, heroes of the War. Draco had decided that Potter was his personal knight in shining armour and had decided that Theo needed his very own pet Gryffindor. Theo was going to kill him with his bare hands. An Avada was too good for the scheming bastard.
"Theo?" Blaise's voice broke into his reverie. "Are you all right?"
Slowly, Theo unclenched his fists and took several deep breaths. He turned to face Blaise. "I'm fine."
"You like him, right?" Blaise asked with a frown. He glanced toward the dark corner that Theo was studiously avoiding looking at directly and then turned his attention back to Theo. "Draco said that… You do like him?"
"Draco has a big mouth," Theo huffed.
"Hang on a minute," Blaise murmured. He stood up and sauntered off into the crowd.
"Perfect," Theo growled to himself. He leaned back in his seat and fought the urge to close his eyes. "Just… perfect."
A few minutes later, Blaise wandered back looking smug, and Theo got a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach.
"What did you do?" Theo demanded.
Blaise blinked at him mildly. "Just remember, no touching."
"What?" Theo stared at Blaise, thoroughly confused.
"He said that you can't touch," repeated a familiar voice.
Theo turned and found himself staring at a tiny pair of crimson and gold striped shorts.
"Fuck," Theo muttered.
"Can't do that either," the voice said drily.
Theo looked up, past the rippling muscles and the golden skin to stare at Neville's amused face.
"I don't think this is a good idea," Theo protested.
Neville smirked at him. "Just sit back and enjoy the ride," Neville purred.
Theo whimpered helplessly.
Watching Neville roll and glide across the stage had been painful, but having all that warm, lickable skin in his lap was even worse. Theo clutched at his chair and did Arithmantic equations in his head while Neville ground down on his lap and rubbed against him. Theo bit his lip until he tasted blood and tried to lean back in his chair.
"You're supposed to be enjoying this," Neville reminded him.
"I'm trying," Theo retorted.
"Harry says that you might not punch me if I tried to kiss you," Neville countered. He slid back so that he could see Theo's face. "That true?"
"I thought I wasn't allowed to touch?" Theo frowned up at Neville.
"Not now, no," Neville agreed. He gave Theo a slow, dangerous smile and licked his lips. "Later."
Theo swallowed hard. "Later would be good."
Neville leaned down and put his lips next to Theo's ear. "Meet me in the back alley in 15 minutes."
"Okay," Theo managed to get out.
Suddenly, his lap was empty and cold and Theo was feeling distinctly light-headed. He turned to stare at Blaise who was watching him with fond affection.
"What do I do?" Theo asked helplessly.
Blaise rolled his eyes. "Go meet him in the alley. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
Theo couldn't help the snort that burst out of him. Blaise would do, and had done, anything, anywhere. Blaise made shooing motions at him and Theo stumbled to his feet.
Slowly, he worked his way through the crowd trying to find his way to the back door and the alley. Theo stumbled out of the noise and lights of the club into the relative silence and the darkness of the alley. A figure pushed up off the wall and moved closer to him.
"Took you long enough," Neville muttered and then he was pushing Theo up against the wall and pressing against him from shoulder to knee.
What was it with pushy Gryffindors and walls? Neville's lips were warm and soft against his, and Theo opened readily when Neville bit down on his lower lip. The scrape of Neville's stubble against his cheek and the feel of flat, hard muscles under the soft fabric of Neville's t-shirt helped to ground him. This was Neville. The same man that he'd wanted and thought he could never have. Theo gave himself up to the feel and smell and taste of the kiss. He would worry about everything else later. Much later.