Being a hit-wizard is not easy | Drarry

Chapter five

Being a hit-wizard is not easy, but the music is not so bad.

The thumping of the bass of some famous disco music travels throughout Draco's body as he makes his way into the club. As always, his entrance does not go unnoticed and he can fell hungry eyes observing him from around the room.

He ignores them all and goes straight to the bar where Dennis is mixing some elaborate cocktail, throwing bottles in the air and catching them behind his back.

He first met Dennis when he still wasn't working for Shacklebolt, Draco had ventured into a new club that had just opened in Islington, not far from his apartment in Camden and had found the bubbly bartender quite entertaining.

At the time he hadn't known the muggle world as well as he does today and had listened carefully as Dennis chatted about whatever he found interesting while working, it was a surprisingly good source of information, if one skipped the useless gossip.

Draco can't say they are friends, but after years of talking from opposite sides of the bar counter, they are friendly acquaintances. Draco usually visits the club once or twice a month and always stops to listen to the latest news as well as taste the concoctions mixed by Dennis' skilful hands.

Tonight it's no different and Draco relaxes while drinking his Aviation, the purple tint of the cocktail lost in the show of stroboscopic lights. Dennis tells him about his new iPhone and the wonders of modern technology and Draco follows the conversation with moderate interest, he does own the new smartphone, but he doesn't use it very much due to his lack of friends to communicate with.

After about half an hour, he moves to a booth with a new drink, he pretends he doesn't notice the lecherous glances thrown his way by most of the men and women filling the club, it's not that he doesn't like being noticed, because he does, but having to reject offers left and right is not his idea of having a good time. Not making eye contact with anyone, he hopes to discourage any attempt at chatting him up.

Of course it doesn't always work.

"Hello beautiful." A man, about ten years older than Draco is staring at him expectantly.

Draco does nothing to conceal his distaste. It's always the older men that try first with him, Draco doesn't know if it's because he gives off the impression of preferring them, if that's even possible, or if they are just less hesitant about approaching someone. Either way, although he might have indulged in a few of them in the past, mainly to satisfy his curiosity and see if age really equalled experience, and the answer is no by the way, Draco has a type, a thing he has accepted along the years after a long period of denial. This type usually isn't matched by any of the older men he meets and by few of the ones his age.

Of course Draco doesn't let something as shallow as looks determine the course of his nights, after all, it's not like he spends much time looking at his catches when his face his smashed against a wall from the rhythmic poundings. Though when he has the option, he can't deny anymore, not to himself nor to others, that a fit body, rugged look, messy dark hair and light eyes do something for him.

And yes, Draco is well aware that his type very much describes someone he spent years hating, because even after years of isolation, Draco can't get rid of Potter, no matter how hard he tries.

Maybe it's always like this with first crushes, they tend to stick around and make your life miserable every time you think about them Draco tries to reason, but even to his own mind, his guesswork seems faulty. It's not because Potter was his first crush, as embarrassing as that is on its own, it's because for seven years, for better or for worse, Potter had been a constant in Draco's life, always there with a snide remark, hateful glances, wand ready to curse at the blink of an eye and annoyingly heroic acts of kindness and bravery.