"I lost you last night?"

Harry looked up from where he was sat in the control booth at the back of the Sadler's Wells auditorium. Draco was stood in the doorway, smirking at him.

Harry almost changed his mind and gave in. But the he glanced at Ron sat next to him. He subtly raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

No. Harry had to be strong.

"Your foot must be feeling better if were able to climb all the way up here," Harry said, flicking through the cue sheet. They had dress rehearsal today and he couldn't be fucking around.

Draco frowned, like he didn't follow Harry's comment. "Oh, yes, thanks," he said with a smile. "I should be able to perform tomorrow, thank goodness. I'll spend today stretching and marking through the choreography."

"That's good," Harry said, determinedly writing an additional comment on his notes. This was crazy. There was no reason for his heart to be breaking. He and Draco were never even together.

"So, did I bore you last night?" Draco pressed, raising his eyebrows. "You didn't say goodbye."

Harry tried not to huff and gritted his teeth. Jesus, Draco had enjoyed his fun, whatever it had been. Did he really have to torment Harry further? The bottom line was if he cared about Harry at all he wouldn't have ditched him to practically have sex with Zabini on the dance floor.

"I had a headache," Harry said with a tight smile. He looked over at Draco. "Besides, someone has to run today. It didn't seem like a good idea to get drunk and do something I'd regret."

The smile melted from Draco's face. "I see," he said curtly. "Well. You're clearly busy. I'll leave you to it, Potter."

The use of his last name stung. But when Draco left, Harry breathed out in relief. Good. If they stopped playing games, it would make their lives easier.

They just had to get through this show tomorrow night.

"Nice one, mate," Ron said. Harry looked back over at him and he nodded at Harry. "Dodged a bullet there, I reckon."

Harry hummed but didn't reply either way. He honestly wasn't sure how he felt. It was probably for the best Draco had backed off. Harry needed to let the hurt that was curled around his heart fade away. Whatever there had been between him and Draco hadn't been real, so he needed to forget about it.

Not long afterwards, their sound guy, Lee Jordon, joined them. Any further conversation regarding Draco and Harry's feelings for him was mercifully put on hold indefinitely.

The day went well in terms of rehearsals. Draco walked through his part like he said he was going to, but Neville didn't seem put out he had been relegated back to the chorus again. In fact, he seemed very cheerful indeed. Harry wondered if that had anything to do with the looks he and Luna kept sharing. He hoped so and was happy for them if that was the case.

Someone around her deserved a bit of luck.

When it came to the fouette section, Draco didn't even attempt them. He just did the arm motions then moved swiftly on to the next bit of chorography, despite Lockhart pulling at his hair and hissing that he needed to 'see his vision properly'.

"It makes sense for Malfoy to rest," he said to Lockhart over the walkie talkie system, calming him down. "If he says he can do it tomorrow, he'll do it. Besides, his health and safety is paramount above all else."

Lockhart grumbled that Harry was probably right and moved on to the next section of the performance. Harry glanced around and realised Ron and Lee were both looking at him.

"What?" he asked with a frown.

Ron raised his eyebrows and held up his hands. "Nothing, mate."

Harry frowned and went back to following the show. They could give him looks all they wanted. He was just doing his job. So what if that involved worrying over Draco?

When the rehearsal finished for the day, there was a slightly tense atmosphere in the air. It had gone okay overall, but Harry got the impression several people were anxious having not run the choreography full out. Harry told himself he should be annoyed at Draco for stressing his fellow cast members out. But he found he couldn't be. This role had been crafted for Draco and Harry knew he would smash the show tomorrow. This was what he was born to do and Harry wanted to see Draco flying high.

Even if he had been cruel to Harry.

Harry left as soon as he was able to that evening, not speaking to anyone or making any eye contact. He didn't want to have to make any excuses if anyone asked him to be sociable. But he couldn't bear to see Draco draping himself all over Zabini again.

Instead, he took himself home with the curry and beers he had promised himself the evening before and watched a dumb movie full of loud explosions. He slept poorly, dreaming of silver-grey eyes, crinkled with laughter as Draco mocked Harry for ever thinking there could be anything between them.

xxx

The day of the show was upon them and it was fraught with tension. Dancers snapped at each other and Trelawny spent the entire afternoon on the brink of tears as they ran the sections she was most concerned about. Draco was almost back to full form, but he still refused to do any spins or leaps or anything else that put pressure on his ankle.

"You're being a fucking precious princess," Zabini snarled after Draco yet again calmly declined to run the fouette section. "Just do the damn moves so we can work around you. You're not the only dancer on stage, no matter what you think."

Harry's heart jumped into his throat. That wasn't fair. Draco was doing his best. Zabini shouldn't talk to him like that, especially if they were involved.

Then Harry reminded himself it was none of his business what Draco and Zabini did.

Draco didn't respond to Zabini's words, but he gritted his teeth and didn't say a word as they moved onto the next section to rehearse. If Harry had to guess, he would have said Draco was rattled.

Before he knew it, the cast disappeared into hair and makeup, getting into costume and having a damn good stretch. Harry walked through backstage to ensure everything was set up as it should be. All the props were in place, outlined with tape on their tables by both sides of the stage. The set was cued up correctly and the lights positioned as they should have been. They were good to go.

Just as he was about to head up to the box with Ron and Lee, Harry pushed a curtain aside and found himself face-to-face with Draco.

For a second, his heart ached with almost physical pain. Wow. He really had thought they'd had something between them, hadn't he? But Draco's face wasn't mocking or sneering as he realised he was in front of Harry again. He looked sad.

He was probably stressed about the show. Zabini had more than likely made him feel like a dickhead for putting everyone's performance at risk by not doing a full, final rehearsal. Even if they were fucking, Draco had obviously been stung by his words.

"Break a leg," Harry said before he could talk himself out of it. He touched Draco's arm briefly and smiled. "You're going to smash it."

Draco appeared to relax slightly, his mouth twitching with a small smile. "Thank you, Harry," he said. His grey eyes flicked out into the darkness of the auditorium. "You'll be watching me," he murmured. It wasn't a question.

A shiver ran over Harry's skin. "Of course," he said.

God damn it. Why did this feel like flirting? Draco had toyed with him enough, surely?

Harry swallowed, too confused. But he didn't have time to fret over weather Draco liked him or not. They had a show to do.

"I'll see you later," Harry said, moving around Draco, back towards the front of house. But he couldn't stop himself glancing behind his shoulder as he left. Draco was watching him walk away, a slight smile on his lips.

Harry chewed his lip all the way back up to the box. He had plenty of things to keep him occupied as the auditorium started filling up with audience members, the hum of their excited chatter buzzing through the air. Reporters lined the first couple of rows and Lockhart conducted a few interviews in the wings.

Harry liaised with Ron and Lee, making sure they were good to go. But then Harry found himself with twenty minutes or so on his hands as the last few patrons took their seats and the dancers got into position while costume and makeup did their last few frantic checks. Harry listened over the walkie talkie, unashamedly trying to catch any mention of how Draco was getting on. But there was none.

Lockhart stood up on stage to rapturous applause. "Thank you, no, thank you," he simpered, holding his hands up like he wanted them to stop. Harry rolled his eyes. He was quite ready to be done with this particular director now.

Lockhart went on to describe some of the inspiration behind tonight's performance. Harry had almost forgot it was also a charity gala, so Lockhart encouraged all of tonight's guests to donate generously in support of arts programmes in under privileged communities. Harry begrudgingly had to admit that was pretty awesome of Lockhart to organise that, but couldn't help but wonder if it was a ploy to distract from rumours he stole his choreography from lesser known dance companies. Either way, it was at least nice to think there would be kids out in the world benefiting from the work they were doing tonight.

If the show went well.

Nerves fluttered through Harry's belly as the music started and the first dancers appeared on stage. By now he was pretty familiar with the sequence of numbers, even without his notes.

He held his breath as he waited for Draco to make an appearance.

He was like a swan as he stepped on stage during the third number to a chorus of wild applause. He was so graceful it made Harry's heart ache. Like the other male dancers, Draco was wearing metallic grey leggings that left absolutely nothing to the imagination and scraps of floaty material over his torso, showing off his lean, muscular chest. The dark eyeliner made it look like his silver eyes were sparkling, even this far at the back of the auditorium.

Harry sighed inwardly and forced himself to focus. He could pine for his missed opportunity after the show was done. Until then, Draco was just another dancer and Harry had a job to do.

They made it through the first act without any major incidents. Harry spent the interval quietly going over the second act cues, which would be about half the length of the first act. They were almost there. He half listened to Ron calling his pregnant girlfriend, Hermione, checking she was okay, while Harry looked down into the half-deserted auditorium. Audience members were busy getting drinks and Lockhart was threatening everyone over the walkie talkies not to fuck anything up in the last forty-five minutes. He wanted this to be a perfect show.

Harry rolled his eyes, tuning him out. As the audience trickled back in for the show to resume, he let it sink in that this was it. He and the other crew would do the breakdown tonight; it wasn't a complicated set, so they would be out of here by midnight, probably. And that would be that.

Maybe he could look up Draco on Instagram. He was bound to have one – a popular one at that. He was so beautiful and talented, people would gobble that up. But did Harry want to be one of those people messaging him over social media? It seemed a bit pathetic.

Perhaps he should just let the door close on this. Nothing had changed, after all. Draco had still used Harry and humiliated him. It was for the best.

It was easier to tell himself that when Draco wasn't on stage in all his glory, looking fucking gorgeous. Harry bit his lip and willed his body not to react as Draco danced among the other performers, his costume so tight and revealing it was almost as if he were naked. He was so powerful and confident, though, it was difficult not to imagine what he might be like in bed.

"What – what is going on?" Lockhart's panicked voice burst over the radio in a crackle of static. Harry jerked back to the here and now, frowning at the stage. Everything looked to be in order, except...was Draco supposed to be that far back with the rest of the chorus dancers?

"Hang on," Harry said in a half-hearted attempt to placate Lockhart.

What was Draco doing?

Ron and Lee were leaning over their desks, as if craning a couple of inches closer would explain what was going on. Then Harry laughed as realisation hit.

"Oh, shit," he said, unable to stop himself grinning. "He's swapping out with Neville."

Lockhart was spewing expletives over the walkie-talkie, but Harry ignored him. Because this was the section he'd watched Neville rehearsing one-on-one with Draco the other day. The pas de deux with Luna. He watched in awe as Neville completely decimated the choreography, every bit the prima ballerina as Draco was. What made it even more delicious was the seething look of jealousy on Zabini's face.

The duet didn't last long. Just as it was occurring to Harry that Draco might have swapped with Neville because his ankle was hurting, Neville and Luna did their sensual arm movement; the one Harry had demonstrated with Draco. Then they split apart to a heartfelt round of applause. The music changed and Draco took centre stage once again.

Harry realised what was coming next.

"Oh, shit," he said again. This time there was no sense of mirth. In fact, his stomach dropped into his trainers.

It was the fouettes.

Ron shifted the lights into the next mood, darkening the edges of the stage so the sole focus was on Draco under the spotlights. He had several steps of build up before he started the turns that he hadn't practiced since twisting his ankle.

Harry didn't breathe.

He got the reckless urge to try and stop the moment for happening, to protect Draco. But of course there was nothing he could do to stop time from marching on, and before he knew it, Draco pushed off the floorboards and began to spin.

"One," Harry found himself breathing, almost unaware he was doing so. "Two. Three." He stood, his hands clutching the edge of the sound desk as his heart pounded. "Four. Five. Six – come on." He blinked, unsure if it was perspiration at the corner of his eyes or tears. "Seven. Eight." He impatiently pushed his glasses up his nose where they'd slipped. "Nine. Ten!"

Harry wasn't sure if Draco gave a slight wobble on the very last turn, but he slammed his foot down and threw his arms up in triumph as the audience went wild, cheering down the house.

The rest of the show proceeded as something of a blur for Harry. He wasn't sure what was happening, other than everything seemed to tick along without incident. As long as he followed the cue sheet, it all appeared to be fine. But it was like his heart didn't leave his mouth until the final curtain fell and the house lights came on again.

He was just so damn proud of Draco. He was proud of him for nailing the fouettes when not everyone had faith he could. But he was prouder that he had shared the limelight with Neville, giving him his chance to shine. There were all kinds of representatives from the ballet and theatre world watching the show tonight. Now they all knew that Neville Longbottom could hold his own with the likes of Draco Malfoy.

Harry wanted to go find Draco. To hug him and tell him how awesome he was.

But that wasn't his place.

Draco would have Zabini and Pansy to congratulate him. Zabini to take him home and show him exactly how fantastic he'd been. Although...the look on his face hadn't been one of loving support, Harry had to say.

But the point was, it wasn't Harry's place to be with Draco at this moment. He had his own people to revel with. Harry just wasn't cut out to be a part of their world.

With a sigh, he congratulated Ron and Lee on a tremendous show, then began coordinating the breakdown of the set.

Draco was most likely already out celebrating. That was just the way it had to be.