Crossed Paths and Karaoke

Disclaimer: I make no money from this. All rights to the appropriate people.

Authors Note: Song is "Do Me a Favour" by Stone Sour.

Chapter 1

Draco sighed again as he lay sprawled elegantly on the chaise. Staring at the intricately moulded ceiling, he ignored the unimpressed looks from Blaise and Pansy. He knew he was behaving abominably, but he was bored. If it bothered them so much, then they could bloody well find a way to entertain him.

"This is ridiculous, Draco. You've been moping around the Manor for months now. Surely Michael leaving isn't worth all of this?" Pansy's voice was a smooth soprano, tone perfectly modulated. She had grown from the square faced, pug nosed girl into a stunning woman; even managing to outgrow the braying laugh she had inflicted upon everyone in school. Perfectly presented, perfectly controlled at all times, she was the image of the ideal pureblood. The sort of woman any self-respecting pureblood man should be falling over himself to court. Pity she did nothing for Draco, to his parents intense disappointment.

"What?" Draco rolled his head to peer at her in confusion. "Don't be absurd. I'm not moping over Michael. He was just a bit of fun, nothing more. I'm just bored." He loosed another sigh.

"Is that all?" Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Go fly then."

"I did that yesterday. It's no fun without someone to play against." Draco sulked.

"You could go shopping. The Nott's ball is next weekend. That's as good an excuse as any to get some new robes." Pansy sipped her tea.

"I had them made a week ago. And you know I don't find shopping as entertaining as you do. I need something different. Something exciting."

Pansy scowled prettily, while Blaise just looked thoughtful. Draco casually draped an arm across his eyes and sighed again, drawing it out obnoxiously.

"I have an idea." Blaise gazed into the fire as he sipped his Firewhiskey.

Draco moved his arm and tilted his head. "And that would be?"

"I don't know, it might be a bit risky, even for you." The handsome Italian carefully suppressed a smirk when the bored blonde sat up, radiating indignation.

"Spill it Zabini. It can't be worse than shopping." Both men ignored Pansy's offended sniff.

"As you know, since the war my mother has been trying to improve the way the public perceives our family. Even though we stayed neutral, public opinion is swinging heavily to the Mudbloods, and she wanted to make sure we didn't get grouped with the blood purists. Publically at least. So she has been 'encouraging' me to explore Muggle culture. It's dreadful, of course, but I did discover something that might cure your boredom." He paused to take another sip, enjoying the irritated scowl from his pale counterpart. "The Muggles have these places called 'Karaoke Bars'. It's a bar where they go and drink their inhibitions away, then get up on a stage and sing in front of the other patrons. As you would expect, most of them are truly awful, but occasionally someone puts on a good show. And if not you can always laugh at the ones that don't. There's one in Soho."

Silence filled the room.

Eventually Pansy couldn't contain her disgust any longer. "Have you lost what little mind you have? Are you suggesting we go slumming? In Muggle London of all places? What if somebody saw us?"

Blaise tossed her a scornful glance. "What's the matter Pansy? Casting a glamour too difficult for you? As I recall, you got particularly good at them in fourth year when Bulstrode hit you with the Acne Hex."

"Listen, you ill-bred little-"

Draco interrupted. "Don't be stupid Blaise. We can't go to Muggle London. We would never be clean again! Merlin knows what kind of filth we would come in contact with!"

Blaise finished his drink and stood. "Your choice. But what's worse; boredom, or a chance to make fun of some Muggles?" He disappeared into the Floo a moment later.

Pansy frowned at Draco. "You aren't seriously considering it, are you?"

Draco scoffed. "Of course not. I wouldn't go to Muggle London if you paid me!"

Satisfied, Pansy kissed his cheek and Floo'd out in a whirl of green flame.

"Not even if you paid me." Draco muttered to himself as he threw himself back on the chaise again.

The idea wouldn't go away. It hovered in the back of his mind as he ate breakfast. It followed him like a besotted puppy as he flew around the Manor's Quiddich Pitch. It whispered seductively as he reclined in his bath. It stroked his thoughts like a lover as he lay in bed. It infiltrated his dreams.

He thought he did quite well to last a week. Anyone would have given in under those circumstances. Much earlier than he did, obviously. And he was only going to see what it was like, just for a laugh. And there was no chance of anyone seeing him. Who could resist the temptation? Not even a Saint. And nobody had ever accused Draco Malfoy of being a Saint.

The noise hit him like a solid wall. Followed closely by the smell. Sweat and cheap perfumes, alcohol and something that could only be described as a fruity purple. The place was packed, and Draco shuddered slightly as he had to force his way to the bar. The Muggles were touching him. Finally reaching his destination, he ordered a whiskey. He barely remembered in time that they wouldn't have something proper, like Firewhiskey. He would have to make do. Drink in hand, he elbowed his way towards the seating area in front of the stage. There were tall tables with high stools scattered around the place, and a couple of comfortable couches. Draco promptly claimed one. He sat, sipping his whiskey and pretending not to be looking around.

"All right ladies and gentlemen! It's time for our karaoke competition! Tonight's prize will be a bottle of Suntory Yamazaki twelve year old whiskey! Those of you who intend to sing for us tonight, place your name on the sign-up sheet and choose your song!"

Draco watched as people drifted up to the sheet, scribbling with an odd sort of quill he didn't recognise. There was a fairly even mix of men and women. Approximately twenty people signed up to perform. He sipped his drink and waited for the fun to begin.

The first contestants were an assault to his ears. He cringed as one woman hit a particularly unpleasant note, and held it for an uncomfortable amount of time. She was screeching something about always loving someone, staring into the eyes of a man who was apparently her thoroughly whipped partner, given that he was the only one to cheer and applaud. There was only one contestant left. Draco considered going home and forcing Blaise to pay for his headache potions.

He threw back the last of his whiskey and prepared to stand, only to choke and fall back into his seat as the next person took the stage. It was Harry Bloody Potter. Harry Potter, who had killed the Dark Lord then a month later announced that he was leaving the Magical world because he was sick of how he had been treated. So what if the papers had already started questioning if he would become the next Dark Lord? He was still a selfish prat. Four years, and nobody had been able to find him. Owls returned with undelivered letters, tracking spells and public appeals failed, even his friends didn't seem to know where he was, if their tearful and pale faces were to be believed. Which they obviously couldn't be, since the Gryffin-git would never leave his precious flunkies behind entirely. And here he was, taking the stage in a Muggle karaoke bar in London.

Draco touched his chest, sure his heart was going to burst from his chest with how hard it was beating. Four years away from the Magical world had done wonders for the man. He looked good. His clothes were well tailored, though casual. His chest had broadened and filled out, and muscles rippled under his shirt. He had gotten rid of those atrocious glasses, and his green eyes glowed with humour and confidence. His hair had been cropped shorter, still slightly longer at the front to cover his scar and artfully arranged into a casual chaos, rather than its former birds nest. Draco was only mildly startled to realise he was drooling. He was a man who made a habit of indulging his wants. And when he looked at the man on stage, he wanted.

And then Potter began to sing, and the crowd erupted with cheers. The heavy beat vibrated the floor under Draco's feet, and the guitar pulled at him in a way he had never experienced. After the crooning and caterwauling of the previous contestants, Potter's hard rock choice was a startling departure. But it worked. Draco listened to the lyrics pouring from his lips, and felt like he had been struck. The sheer emotion behind the words couldn't be ignored. He tried to focus on the words themselves, and gradually surfaced from his stupor enough to absorb some of them.

I am an anti everything man
A scab on the lips of the Lord
My caustic dismissal
Is all I need to get you
To fall on your sword

It's easy to live fast
It's harder to live
I woke up today with a gun
Ignoring your history
Is killing your past
You might run forever
If death never lasts

Potter's voice was rough and hard, bitterness and venom seeping through. He poured his soul into his performance, striding and dipping as he prowled around the stage. People poured forward and started to dance, jostling each other, still whooping and cheering.

So do me a favour
Your behaviour
Is just a reason why
There is no saviour
When you're wasted
Let's face it
There's a side of you that
Knows you're a failure
Lives for the danger
Feels like an enemy but looks like a stranger

Draco felt himself fracturing and pulling back together as Potter transformed. He was alive in a way he had never been in all the years that Draco had known him. His body arched and shook, his head back, eyes flashing and drawing in every member of the crowd, then closing as if in pain as he sang. He poured everything he had into it, and it showed. It didn't matter who else had competed. Potter would win. He was magnificent.

The bell has rung on the titans
Everybody give us some room
Your so called set of fake morals
I can't tell the difference
Is that an excuse?

The matter at hand
Is a matter of time
A sad little kid with broken toys
Your dogmatic license
Has kept you inside

What will you do?
When you're burning alive?

Draco knew he was lost. He had to have the man before him. The pure passion and contained fury was the most potent aphrodisiac he had ever encountered, and he burned to touch, to taste, to bite and scratch and have that energy directed towards him. He needed it. His life had been one of luxury, but in the presence of such raw power, he could see how dull and flat it really was. A pale imitation of what it could be. He could never go back to what he had been before.

I don't mind my old, dead story
And I don't want to lie to you
I know my glory
Will never be the same as truth
By now my only enemy is you

I won't go slowly
I'll leave you behind
Leave you behind
Leave you behind
Leave you behind

Finally the song ended, and Potter drooped, exhausted. Draco stood before realising he had, and started pushing forward. He had to speak to him. He had to have him. Potter had accepted the bottle of whiskey as his prize, and was stepping off the stage. He looked up as Draco stopped in front of him. Startled green eyes met dilated grey, and then closed. The expression of weary resignation made Draco whimper and reach forward before he could think better of it.

He grabbed Potter's wrist and dragged him into the restroom, shoving him against the wall and pinning him with his body. He couldn't help the faint moan at how good Potter felt against his own lean form. He looked at his startled captive and licked his lips.

"How did you find me?" Potter's, Harry's voice was deep and rough, rumbling through his chest, and sending a shiver through Draco.

"Pure chance. I was bored and came here for a laugh, and there you were." The blonde man whispered huskily, eyes flicking between the darker mans parted lips and his luminous eyes.

Harry shuddered and tried to shift his hips away, but only managed to brush his groin against Draco's. He bit his lip, failing to hide his whimper.

"Come home with me." Draco demanded, leaning closer and stroking the tip of his nose along Harry's, then trailing it along his cheek and over towards his ear.

"Fuck that." Harry choked out, but grabbed the back of Draco's neck. "My place is closer." He dragged the lighter man from the bar and into a quiet alley behind it, then Apparated them both.

Draco landed on the floor with a muffled curse, and looked up at Harry. The muscular man stared down at him with no traces of the lust he had been previously showing. His arms were folded across his chest, and his eyes were narrowed and cold. He still clutched the bottle of whiskey in one hand. "What's your game, Malfoy?" He growled.

"What?" Draco frowned in confusion. He shifted, trying to discretely adjust himself.

"You really think that I believe you found me by accident, and decided you want to fuck me?" Harry scoffed, then turned and walked into the open kitchen. Opening the whiskey, he poured two glasses and walked back, holding out one to Draco.

Accepting it, Draco stood and glowered. "It's the truth."

"Uh huh. Sure it is." Harry dropped into a leather overstuffed chair and propped his feet on a scuffed coffee table, gesturing lazily to another chair. "Grab a seat Malfoy. You may as well be comfortable while you lie to me."

"I'm not lying!" Draco snarled, but took the offered seat. "I was bored, and Blaise mentioned karaoke bars, and I thought it would be better than laying around the Manor staring holes in the ceiling."

"You were bored."

"Yes." Draco huffed.

"Why didn't you go flying? Or shopping?" Harry peered over the top of the glass he was nursing.

"Seriously? Do you have eavesdropping spells in my house or something?"

Harry blinked. "What?"

Draco shook his head impatiently. "Never mind. Look, I'm not going to reveal you or anything." A part of his mind was surprised to realise he meant it, but he put it aside for the moment. "You had your reasons for leaving, and I get the impression that the song you chose tonight was a lot more personal than even I realise. But seeing you up there like that…" He trailed off with a shiver, then looked back at Harry with dilated eyes.

Harry looked at him thoughtfully. "You don't plan to reveal me." His tone was flat, but not quite disbelieving. "You just saw me and decided I'd be a nice piece of arse for the night, is that it?"

Working his jaw soundlessly for a moment, Draco surprised himself again by grabbing his wand. "I vow on my magic that I will not betray any information on the activities or whereabouts of Harry Potter without his express permission." He smirked faintly at the gobsmacked expression on his companions face as the vow took hold. "And I was thinking of something longer than just one night, if you're open to the idea. Otherwise I suppose I'll take what I can get." He lowered his voice and hooded his eyes, licking his bottom lip as his gaze raked Harry's body.

Harry raised an eyebrow and shifted slightly, not so accidentally displaying his physique better. "Oh really?"

Draco bit his lip and stood, stalking over and straddling Harry's lap. "Really. I saw you, I heard you." He raked his fingers through Harry's shortened hair, tugging slightly. "You opened your soul, and I want it. I want that fire." He licked Harry's earlobe, and whispered, "I need it."

He hissed slightly in surprise as Harry grabbed his arse, and lifted him easily, carrying him to the bedroom and throwing him unceremoniously onto the bed. Harry was apparently a lot stronger than he looked, even with all that delicious muscle.

"Strip." The deep voice cracked like a whip.

Draco found himself obeying eagerly. He never took his eyes from the deep green ones boring into him, flinging the clothing aside onto the floor with complete disregard for the first time in his life. He didn't care if they got rumpled, or even ruined. The only thing he cared about at the moment was standing in front of him, slowly removing his own clothes.