分卷阅读26（1 / 2）

“You can’t clean firewhiskey with magic, Potter.” he said. “Are you mad? You’ll set yourself on fire!”

Harry laughed nervously, and then frowned when Draco didn’t say anything else. “Seriously? I am covered in more than just firewhiskey. I feel and smell disgusting!” Malfoy’s eyes traveled down Harry’s form and back up again. Harry gulped. Whatever had passed between them minutes before had changed something. It had lifted a barrier that for so long had held back a ferocious devotion, a mix of anguished desire and provocative sentiments.

“Irrelevant,” he said. He pulled out the Timepiece “Let’s go.”

Harry proceeded to complain that he wouldn’t leave until he changed his clothes. “I’m a bloody fire hazard!” he threw up his hands. Malfoy pointed out that they needed to hurry if they were to get back and reunite with the others before the ransom was due. Harry shook his head. “We are literally six weeks early for the ransom drop, we definitely have a few minutes to spare. I’m going inside to find clothes.”

“Nightclub’s don’t usually give people clothes, Potter.”

“No,” Harry smiled mischievously. “But clubbers are often in the habit of leaving them behind.” Harry levitated the plant and opened the side door to the club. They walked into magical fog and floating strobe lights, and it took almost a minute for Harry’s eyes to adjust. When he looked over at Malfoy, the blond wore a satisfied grin. “What is it?” Harry asked.

“Oh you know, just the perfect atmosphere for these ridiculous sunglasses,” he smirked. Harry couldn’t believe that Malfoy had grabbed them during their rush to leave the house. “Find me when you’re no longer wet and sticky.” He walked away and Harry lost sight of him in the sea of bodies on the dance floor.

Harry made his way to what looked like a coat check and shot the attendant a warm smile.

The attendant held up a ticket and said, “Coat and—” she looked to Harry’s right at the floating plant, “—ficus.”

Harry shook his head, “Oh no, I’m not checking the plant.” She raised a brow. Harry leaned in, “Any chance you’ve got an extra shirt back there? Pair of slacks?” He motioned at the mess down his front. “My date got upset with me and…” he trailed off.

“Funny,” the attendant said stoically, “I’ve never known a ficus to retaliate in anger.”

“Anyway,” Harry laughed uncomfortably. “The clothes?”

“Right,” she said and then disappeared down an aisle behind her. Harry waited a few minutes and then got worried, but she finally came back with a pile of folded clothes. “These look like the only thing I had in your size.”

Harry glanced at the rainbow pattern and sighed, thinking it was a bit loud. “Thanks.” He made his way to the loo. He cast a quick privacy charm by one of the sinks and then disrobed. He’d still had the rolled up copy of the Prophet tucked in his waist, but it had mostly been soaked through with a red, flowery-scented liquor. Harry tore off the front page to show Ron about Ginny, and tucked it into the purple coat’s pocket.

The Stinging Jinx had hit him in the leg and the skin around it was covered in big, red welts. He cast a healing spell, but it was only slightly successful in reducing the swelling and redness. He wasn’t in excruciating agony so he supposed it could wait. Then he washed himself clean using the sink, but still couldn’t quite get the feeling of alcohol off his skin. As soon as Harry put on the rainbow striped pants and black mesh shirt, he gasped.

“Aye,” someone said from the other side of the room. “You don’t look that good, get over yourself.” Harry stared at himself in the mirror. This was what he’d been wearing—his other self. Since the case had taken off, he’d completely forgotten.

“Are you done watering your plant? Some of us need the sink.” Harry apologised and rushed out. He threw on the purple coat and set out to find Malfoy in the crowd.

He found an area at the edge of the dancefloor and scanned the sea of people. All of them seemed to be losing themselves to the beat of a Lady Hippolyta song, and Harry wished he could join them and feel carefree for just a moment. He wanted to surrender his heavy burdens, to lose himself in the rhythm of a song and the feel of another, a beckoning touch to lead him toward something like weightlessness.

Harry hadn’t realized his eyes were closed until a hand softly curled around his waist and the space in front of him warmed with the promise of a sound body. He opened his eyes and took in the man in front of him, lines and edges softened by the kiss of darkened space, grey eyes revealing a rapture at the object of their focus. “Harry,” Draco whispered.

“Merlin,” Harry whispered and his eyes fell to Draco’s lips. “I don’t know where these feelings live inside me,” he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Draco’s ear. “But they’re there, they’ve always been.” Harry pulled back so he could see Draco’s face, and his lips skirted the other man’s cheek in the process. When their eyes finally met, Harry nearly felt drunk with anticipation. He watched Draco watch him as he licked his lips.