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Draco downed his whisky, pushing the glass back towards the barman and signalling for another one straight away. As he waited for his next drink, he turned to look at the dancefloor, at the writhing mass of bodies it contained. The club was packed, full of people here for the same reason as Draco; to drink, to dance, to forget.
Drink once again in hand, Draco pushed his way into the middle of the crowd, desperate to join them in their state of blissful unawareness. He closed his eyes, focused on the way the bass poured out of the speakers, making the floor shake beneath his feet, and began to move his body.
As he danced, Draco found himself sinking into the oblivion he had been searching for when he had first decided to go clubbing. The anxiety that had been plaguing him for days began to leech away, the alcohol in his system combining with the trance-inducing beat of the music to allow him a momentary respite from the thoughts that had been running through his mind on repeat.
Some people might have called it running away, called it cowardice or fearfulness, but Draco simply called it self-preservation .
For a while, it worked. For a while, Draco just danced, and didn’t think, didn’t agonise over what he should do. All he was aware of was the burn of the whisky in his veins, the rhythm of the music, and the press of people all around him.
And then he opened his eyes. And he saw a man with dark, messy hair across the dancefloor. And he couldn’t run away anymore.
The man wasn’t Harry, but the passing resemblance was strong enough that Draco’s heart momentarily skipped a beat, was strong enough to make Draco remember everything he was trying to hide from.
Draco remembered the argument, and the way Harry’s face had crumpled when Draco had announced that he couldn’t do this anymore.
He remembered how Harry had tried to fight for them, had claimed that Draco was different now, that he wasn’t innocent either, that the war made good people do bad things.
He remembered how he had insisted that they couldn’t be together, that Draco wasn’t good enough for Harry, that no one would accept their relationship.
He remembered how Harry’s voice had trembled as he had begged Draco not to give up on them, as he had said that surely their love could make it through anything, that he would help Draco chase away the shadows left by the war.
As the terrible, heart-breaking memories flooded his mind, Draco knew that he would never be able to forget Harry. No matter how much he drank, or how much he danced, there would be no escape from Harry, or from the way that Draco felt about him.
And he didn’t want to escape. He wanted to be brave for once in his life. He didn’t want to give up. He wanted to fight for the man he loved.