Chapter 1
Draco followed Hermione, Blaise, Dean and Theo into the auditorium. His suit was uncomfortable, and someone has gotten the temperature spells horribly wrong, because it was awfully hot as they made their way to their seats. Sweat was already beading on his brow. He saw Blaise roll his shirtsleeves up, and Hermione begin to fan herself as they sat down. They were in the front row, on request from Ron, Harry, Neville and Seamus, and Draco felt a healthy sense of anticipation, as he was worried that his biggest fear in the whole wild world might come true; audience participation.
But, Harry had asked him to sit in the front row, and as Blaise liked to point out so often, Draco was Harry’s bitch, so Draco was sat in the front row.
“Do you know what they’re doing?” Theo asked Hermione, whose baby hairs had started to curl up from the heat of the auditorium.
“No, Ron abjectly refused to tell me, saying he’d been sworn to utter secrecy. I even considered he might be cheating, considering how many late nights they’ve been doing.” Hermione said. Draco was surprised that she didn’t know- her marriage to Ron was so close that they were like one person with one brain, and they certainly knew every single detail about each other's lives.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Granger, this is Ronald we’re talking about. He looks at you like you hung the moon. And besides, who else would ever want to have sex with his freckly arse?” Draco drawled, and Hermione smirked at him as she whacked him with her handbag.
“So none of us really have any idea of what we’re about to witness?” Blaise asked, over the rising noise of the auditorium filling up. They all agreed. Every year, the ministry put on a big charity fundraiser, and every year a different department was tasked with organising it. Draco, as a cursebreaker, usually didn’t have to do much. Their department was quite predictable. Every few years, when it was their turn, they rounded up all the valuable objects that they had removed curses from, and held a raffle, which was generally very successful. The tickets were so cheap that nearly everyone bought one, and most of the prizes were valuable enough that people often bought multiple. Draco himself had won a genuine wedgwood porcelain tea set, which was displayed in his kitchen with pride of place.
This year was the aurors turn. Usually they organised a charity quidditch match, with ticket and drinks sales forming a hefty charitable donation, however this year was going to be different, and apparently they were pulling out all the stops. Really doing something ‘different’ as Harry had put it at the pub a few weeks ago, and that was the only information anyone had gotten about the whole event. Soon enough, the auditorium was full of ministry workers, and buzzing with all the voices speculating over what was about to happen.
With every seat occupied, the heat was getting out of control. It was May, and the country was entering what was likely to be a heatwave for the books, and Draco had already spent the last few days hotter than he had any right to be, stuck either behind his desk in a suit or out in the field in the cursebreaker’s robes, sweating balls and desperately casting about seven cooling charms every five minutes.
The lights suddenly went out, and the auditorium was plunged into silence. Then, music began to trickle in from all the hidden speakers. A slightly haunting muggle tune that Draco had vaguely heard of. Muggle music was the new ‘thing’ in the wizarding world. It was played almost exclusively on the wireless. Since the end of the war, muggle culture had been catapulted into the mainstream as people tried to challenge their prejudiced notions of muggles, and wizarding cinemas were popping up all over the place, showing ‘films’ which were, as far as Draco could work out, like recorded theatre shows.
He himself had joined the trend to some extent- he found himself at the Globe most weekends, especially during the summer months, and his bookshelves were lined almost exclusively with muggle fiction, which he found much more scintillating than wizarding stories, which were all rather boring and predictable, and shot through with anti-muggle and anti-creature bias, and Draco actively tried to avoid absorbing messages of that sort in his media, now.
The auditorium was still dark, but the music was picking up. Blaise was shifting about in the seat next to Draco as he danced along, and on Draco’s other side he could hear Hermione humming, much more in tune than he expected her to be. She often surprised him, though, he should really stop being shocked by her vast well of talent. Words started trickling through the speakers, getting louder.
(Late night, call you in the late night, trade love for one night )
The heavy black curtains hung over the auditorium stage twitched slightly, and then low red lights shone over the stage and the audience, bathing everything bloody. Slowly, the curtain lifted, and all the male aurors were stood in a line on the stage, arms hanging by their side and heads down towards the floor. They stood there for a while, unmoving, and Draco still had no idea what was about to happen. They were all clothed in loose black button down shirts and black shiny trousers. From their hair, Draco could identify Ron and George Weasley. He could pick out Harry and Lee Jordan from their skin tone- well, he could always pick out Harry- but the rest of their identities remained obscured by the fact that so many of the aurors were white men with brown hair. Suddenly, the song picked up
(sex, money, feelings, die)
All the aurors looked up, grinning at the crowd, before they started to… dance? Oh my god, they were dancing. It was a strange blend of hip hop and contemporary ballet-style dancing. Their muscles glowed in the red lights as if they’d been oiled. They flowed together as one, and Draco had to admit that they were really quite good.
“Oh… my… god.” Blaise whispered, and Draco nodded in agreement. The men were all barefoot, and they danced all through the second verse of the dance. All of a sudden the men all went back into the line they were in at the beginning, before assuming various power poses. Poses which were, if Draco had to describe them, surprisingly sexual. Some were crouched down, some were standing, and Harry was stood in the middle of them, both hands grabbing his crotch, facing the floor like at the beginning.
(drink up drink up I’m so fucked up)
“What the fuck…” Hermione whispered from next to him. The song’s chorus started again,
(sex, money, feelings, die)
And the aurors clothes just…. Melted off. Suddenly, the men were all standing there, clad in matching, sinfully tight black boxer-briefs, worn low enough to demonstrate the hip-V of every man on stage. The auditorium erupted into jeers and whistles and shouts.
(baby don’t you cry)
The aurors started dancing again, or not dancing so much as just… grinding. All of them, at different positions on the stage were just humping the air.
“Oh my fucking god, its a strip show. They’ve put on a strip show. My husbands in a strip show.” Hermione whispered from beside him. Draco just nodded, not even knowing if she was talking to him or just thinking out loud. Soon enough, the song ended, and the stage faded to black.
This time, it was bathed in a sensual purple light, and all the female aurors were lined up on stage. Draco could recognise Cho Chang, and Angelina Johnson. The women were in very short silken dressing gowns, which they were holding shut with crossed arms as they stood grouped in the centre of the stage. The music changed to a song that Draco definitely knew, and secretly loved.
(Te amo, te amo, she says to me I hear a pain in her voice)
The women all turn to one another, grouped into pairs. They hold their partner by the waist and start dancing together, very sensually. Draco imagined that if he was a lesbian, he would be mightily enjoying this little display. Where the men before hand had been so overtly sexual in a way that almost made it un-sexy (only almost, a treacherous voice supplied), these women were sensual, in a way that was quite compelling.
(don’t it mean I love you)
The lights went down again, and when they came back up mere seconds later, the women were all in matching lace bra and underwear sets, each pair in a different colour. They began to sort of writhe together, with Rihanna’s desperately sexy voice in the background. Draco almost felt like he was watching soft porn. It was a bit… intense.
(listen we can dance, but you gotta watch your hands)
They kept going, getting more and more handsy with each other, but clearly choreographed as each couple was doing the same thing, before the song trailed off, and each pair ended with a dramatic dip. The auditorium erupted into applause and Draco wondered which ministry official signed off on this happening in the middle of a work day. It was the Thursday before the long weekend, but still, it felt horrifically inappropriate to be spending company time staring at boobs and thighs, even if Draco had little interest in them.
Pansy would call that his archaic pureblood sensitivities, but Pansy was missing this ordeal because she worked for Witch Weekly. The lights went down again, and when they came up they were a soft yellow, and three chairs stood on the stage, evenly spaced out. Draco started to get suspicious of why it was so imperative for them to sit in the front row. A new song started playing, one that Draco vaguely remembered hearing in the club once or twice. The introduction was quite long, but when the lyrics started, Ron appeared behind the chair in the centre of the stage.
(I’m just a bachelor)
Harry appeared behind another chair, with the next line of the song.
(looking for a partner)
Finally, Dean appeared behind the third chair. All of them were leaning over the back of the chairs, grinning into the crowd.
(someone who knows how to ride)
“Oh, no” Hermione muttered. Draco giggled at her obvious panic. Suddenly, and completely in sync, the three men leapt- fucking leapt- over the chairs and landed, crouched, right at the edge of the stage. Then again, completely in unison, they dropped onto the floor in front of Draco and his friends. They were all still only clad in skin-tight black underwear. Ron advanced on Hermione, grinning at her as she began to shake her head violently. Seamus sauntered up to Dean, who was rolling his eyes, and Harry- Harry walked confidently, and stopped right in front of Draco, who got an eyeful of his crotch, close enough to touch. Draco’s mouth went dry, and he wasn’t entirely sure he was still breathing. The three men stood in front of their targets for a beat.
(girl when I break you off)
Then they bent down, and Draco, Hermione and Dean were hefted out of their seats, and thrown over three different shoulders. Dangling over Harry’s back, Draco had a perfect view of his upsettingly perfect arse, which was like two globes encased in thin black cotton, and Draco had to suck the drool back into his mouth. He was bounced about a bit as Harry clambered back onto the stage, before being dropped into a chair. He looked up and was staring right into the audience, which was shrouded in darkness. They had started to cheer again.
(if you’re horny, let's do it, ride it, my pony)
Harry was standing in front of him again, and then placed a foot between Draco’s legs, resting it on the seat of the chair, and Draco realised with horrifying clarity that he was about to receive a lap dance from the man he had been lusting over for well over a decade in front of the entire fucking ministry for magic. Harry removed his foot, and in a smooth fluid motion, he was straddling Draco’s thighs, and the mother fucker had the sheer audacity to wink at Draco before he was gone again, now facing the audience and doing something that had them all hollering.
Then he was sitting back down again on Draco’s thighs. Draco heard a delighted shriek and looked over to see Hermione in centre stage, grinning widely as her husband dry humped the air in front of her face. Her smile was so wide he was sure her cheeks were aching. The warmth it sparked in Draco’s soul momentarily distracted him from Harry, but only momentarily, because then Harry started grinding down in Draco’s lap, and the unbelievable control Draco had managed to exert over his penis snapped completely and he was completely stood to attention, something he was sure Harry could feel, which was mortifying, to say the least. It was also the sexiest thing that had ever happened to Draco, and he had had a threesome with two south american quidditch players, which was pretty fucking sexy.
(If we’re gonna get nasty baby)
Draco resigned himself to his fate, and sat back and let Harry dance all over him, filing it away to fuel his wank bank for the rest of his natural born life. Harry’s thighs were sinewy and golden and they glistened under the light, and Draco watched, entranced by the muscles as they contracted and relaxed whilst Harry danced. Harry’s abs looked inhuman, and it took all of Draco’s self control not to lean forward and lick them. Harry smelled of sweat and man and Draco had never been this turned on in his entire life. Soon enough, the song ended, the stage was cloaked in black, and Harry’s weight and warmth was gone from Draco’s lap, but then he felt strong arms slide behind his back and under his knees and he was carried back to his seat, and gently lowered into it.
“What the fuck was that, Potter?” Draco hissed into the darkness. Harry didn’t say anything, but he cupped Draco’s cheek in his palm for a tantalising second before disappearing into the dark. The stage lit up again and Hermione and Dean were also back in their seats, and the women were back on stage, but Draco couldn’t think of anything but the head of Harry’s thighs and the rough calloused skin of his palm against Draco’s cheek, and what that touch could possibly have meant. He was in a daze for the rest of the performance, which was various smaller groups and individuals doing more solo-type sexy dancing, but Harry never reappeared. Draco couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or relieved.