Slash warning! Alcohol and drug use! Blackmail! Underage sex!
The make-shift club shook with the heavy bass. The sounds of music, laughter, and cheers to the DJ were nearly deafening.
The pulsing crowd, erotic beat, and sensual dancers gave the warehouse the atmosphere of gritty, raunchy, dangerous sex.
It was this, more than anything, which set Harry Potter's blood on fire. He walked into the club, tight shirt and tighter jeans hugging his frame in a way that showed the curves and angles of his body, while barely showing any skin.
Despite his excitement, he was also horribly nervous. He'd never been to anything even remotely like this, and had to sneak out of his Aunt and Uncle's house to do so. If he were caught, especially with all the Order members supposed to be watching over him, he'd get locked back up in that house so fast his head would spin.
He could feel the heavy bassline rumble in his body, almost overpowering the nervous, excited thumping of his heart. He'd come by muggle bus to the most deserted area of London's industrial district, surprisingly close to the Grunnings Drill Factory. He'd heard about this party from Dudley, while he was discussing it with Peirs Polkiss in front of the telly. Dudley had, at the last minute, caught the flu -for real this time- and left Harry free to go in his place. Not that he knew Harry was here. No one did.
Perhaps that was a dangerous thing to do, not telling a soul that he's going alone to a place he's never been before, where he doesn't know the scene or the people. But that added to the excitement. And besides, what could a bunch of muggles do to a nearly fully-grown wizard?
He avoided a couple too interested in themselves to take notice of where they were going, and made his way to the poorly constructed bar. He needed something to calm his nerves.
Sitting down, the man behind the bar gave Harry one look and smirked. He could smell virgin.
The look made Harry even more nervous, and the less Gryffindor side of him told him to leave. But he wouldn't listen. He didn't come out here just to get anxious and leave. He came out here to experience life.
"Can I get you something, babe?" The bartender asked, that smirk still on his face.
"Uhm…." He floundered, before he cleared his throat and tried again. "What do you have?" He didn't see a menu or board anywhere showing the options. At the man's look, he felt like he was just supposed to know.
"I'll just get you something." He said, and set to work making a drink. Harry looked around at the dancefloor and the top level, probably where the VIP's were. Everyone looked so free, unguarded, wild. It was such a drastic change from when Harry was in the wizarding world. These people, unlike the antiquated inhabitants of the magical community, knew how to let go.
The bartender cleared his throat, bringing Harry's attention back to him. He was holding a green drink in a martini glass out to Harry.
Harry took it and looked it over.
The bartender smirked again. "It's called a Green Vesper. I thought it matched your eyes." He spoke evenly.
Harry looked up at him and felt his cheeks go a little pink. It did indeed match his eyes.
He wanted to take in the man before him. The bartender was tall, maybe as tall as 6' 10". His eyes were a mischievous blueish-green. And his hair was dark, almost as dark as Harry's own. He had a small amount of stubble on his square jaw, and the arms that were crossed over his thick chest were well muscled.
He leaned forward, hands on the bar. "Go on, take a sip."
Harry blushed a little more, and looked back down to the drink. Hermione was in his head already, telling him that he should be more careful about accepting drinks from strangers. And he wasn't even old enough to drink.
Feeling like a rebel, he gave a smirk of his own and took a large gulp of the drink. The man laughed, a deep sound, but not unfriendly. Harry soon figured out why. The alcohol burned his throat on the way down and made his eyes water. He coughed a little, and the smirk on the other man's face only widened.
"Like it?" He asked. Harry didn't even try to speak, and nodded weakly instead. It tasted good, that was true, but it was maybe too strong for him. He'd only really drunk Butterbeer before, and that hardly counted.
"Good. When you're finished with that, I'll get you another. And don't worry, they're free."
Harry was too busy choking after another sip to protest.
By around three in the morning, the party nowhere near over, and Harry Potter, the wizarding world's savior, Dumbledore's Golden Boy, could hardly be found. He was deep in the dancefloor, grinding against men and women alike, extremely drunk and having the time of his life.
He was groped, kissed, felt up, and dry-humped, and he loved every minute of it. He also had the notion that he was a pretty good dancer, despite being totally unfamiliar with the muggle club music. Or any club music for that matter. He just swung his hips, thrust out his chest, and moved his feet. It was surprisingly easy. Much easier than dancing at the Yule Ball in his fourth year.
But that all may have been the large amounts of alcohol in his system talking. Whatever, he didn't care. All he knew was that he felt free for the first time in… well… forever.
But Harry soon felt his body tire. He'd been dancing for a few hours straight, so he slipped his way back to the bar, sitting in the spot he'd grabbed before and smiled drunkenly at the bartender, whose name he had learned was Adam.
"Hey, Harry." He smirked again. It was his most common facial expression, Harry assumed. It just looked right on him. And it was also highly disarming. So Harry, drunkenly feeling safe, had told him his real name instead of using an alias.
Oh well. He was a muggle after all; it was not like he would know who Harry Potter was. In Adam's eyes, Harry was just a kid who snuck out of his house to come to a party. And that was exactly what he'd wanted to be.
Harry was a loose-mouthed drunk, it seemed, because he'd also let slip that he wasn't exactly of age. Adam hadn't seemed to be bothered by the fact that he'd given copious amounts of alcohol to a minor, and had laughed about Harry's state.
"Hey." He said, giving a fearless smile. Adam leaned in again, and even his eyes were smirking now.
"There's another party in a few days. Three days, actually. Be there?" He asked. Harry felt his heart pound loudly in his chest and ears. He nodded. Adam's smirked widened and he wrote down the address for Harry, and also what he should wear. Apparently it was a theme type party.
Harry stayed until the party ended, leaving with a large group of people he had met on the dance floor. He got lots of invitations to go back to people's flats with them, but even in Harry's drunk mind, he knew he had to be back by the time the sun rose, or the Order would assume the worst.
So, it was reluctantly that Harry got back on public transit, making his way home before crawling into bed without waking or alerting a soul, and passing out, exhausted. His last coherent thoughts were of his skill, having avoided notice by all Order members during the excursion.
Or so he thought.
Black eye's glittered knowingly as they watched form a hidden location, and Severus Snape furrowed his brows. Idiot boy.