Chapter Text
Harry played with his food at supper, ignoring the lively chatter around him. Everyone was still on a high from the holidays, but he still couldn’t shake the shadows of the past from his mind. From what he’d overheard in Hogsmeade, Sirius Black had been his father’s best friend since their earliest school days, up until betrayed them to Voldemort. He couldn’t fathom either Ron or Hermione doing that to him, but he was sure his father couldn’t have either.
He was shaken from his dark thoughts by a clinking glass at the head of the Great Hall and as he turned, he saw Professor McGonagall there, preparing to make an announcement. It was odd to see her at the podium instead of Professor Dumbledore, but he seemed preoccupied with his dessert rather than whatever his deputy was about to say.
“May I have your attention, please?” she called out, and the room quickly fell into a hush. “Thank you. As some of you may be aware, every five years the Ministry’s Grand Midwinter Ball is held, one of the most exclusive events of the wizarding world. So,” she said, pausing to clasp her hands excitedly, “it is with great pride that I announce that several of our students have been issued an invitation and, considering what an honor it is, we have arranged for those students to have a dispensation this week to go into Hogsmeade to purchase appropriate dress robes for the event and transportation to and from the ball.”
Whispers fluttered around the room, but Harry was already tuning McGonagall out as he sipped on his pumpkin juice. Who cared about balls when a murderer was loose who had a direct hand in his parents’ death? As McGonagall began calling out the names of some of those who had been invited, however, he rolled his eyes as Draco Malfoy and a couple other Slytherins were named.
Wow, so it’s that kind of event. Probably a bunch of snobs and pure-blood—
“Harry Potter.”
He stiffened at the sound of his name and slowly turned his head back in McGonagall’s direction, but she was already calling out the names of the last few students.
“Did she just say my name?” he whispered to Hermione.
She gave him a weak smile. “She did.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’re invited to the ball.”
“Why?”
Ron snorted and jabbed him with his elbow. “Because you’re Harry Potter. Now that you’re out in public, you’re free game, mate.”
“I don’t have to go though, right?”
“Didn’t you hear what she said?” Hermione hissed. “It’s an honor to be selected! I doubt you have a choice in it.”
“But they’ll hardly let me go anywhere with Sirius Black on the loose. Why should they risk my life all of a sudden for a stupid dance?”
Hermione gave an indignant huff. “It’s not just a stupid dance, Harry, and I’m sure you’ll be even safer at the ball than you are here. It will be filled with Ministry personnel and perhaps even aurors.”
Harry grimaced and pushed his plate away. He felt even less like eating than before.
“I don’t even know what to do. It sounds like one of those events where you need manners and etiquette. The Dursleys’ idea of teaching me those things was to keep me locked up in my bedroom with a promise not to make a peep. I’ll just make a fool of yourself.”
“No, you won’t, Harry. As long as you don’t get into a heated debate with a dignitary or insult someone’s wife, I’m sure you’ll be fine. Stick to light topics and, no matter what, stay away from Malfoy. I imagine he’d love to take the opportunity to humiliate you in front of such an audience.”
Harry groaned and dropped his head against the table. He felt Ron pat his shoulder in consolation and then reach over his head to sneak something off his plate. He’d rather be trapped in Potions for an entire month than go to the ball. He knew it was inevitable, though, so he prepared himself for a special kind of torture by the end of the week.
—
The next several days passed by in a blur with the occasional visit to Hogsmeade to obtain dress robes, accompanied by an enthusiastic McGonagall herself. He was relieved when she gave him instructions on what to expect while he was there, how to conduct himself properly, and then mentioned a few notable people he was sure to be introduced to. When she offered to show him a few of the dances, he gave her a polite smile and declined, stating that he worked better under pressure. They could make him go to the ball, but he’d do everything possible to avoid dancing.
When the day of the ball finally arrived, Harry donned his dress robes as Ron and Seamus whistled and taunted him over it. Giving each of them an appropriate gesture of appreciation, he swept out of their dorm and out of the common room before anyone could say anything else. The last thing he needed was a run-in with Fred and George as well, or Hermione who was hungry for any little information he could give her on such a historic event.
The long walk through the corridors did little to ease his jitters, and they multiplied when he saw the group going to the ball congregated just inside the main doors. He subtly moved around to avoid Malfoy’s line of sight and hid behind a couple of older Ravenclaws who were tall enough to block him. The doors creaked open and even at the back of the crowd, Harry felt the blast of cold winter air and he hurriedly drew his heavy cloak in around him.
As they ventured outside, Harry saw an enormous and elaborate carriage waiting. From the insignia on the side, it seemed to be a special one sent directly from the ministry. He’d been hoping that there would be separate carriages so he wouldn’t be on the same one as the Slytherins, but as he saw them charge forward to board before everyone else, he relaxed. They’d be on the complete opposite side as him, so it wasn’t likely they’d be able to interact with him.
It wasn’t what he’d call cozy, however, as he squeezed into the very last narrow space on the bench and had the door slammed behind him. The carriage lurched forward immediately, and he felt it lift off the ground, taking to the skies for their journey. The other students chatted with each other, most of them being well acquainted with each other, but that left Harry to spend the entire trip bored to tears, entertaining himself by idly listening into bits of conversation.
After a miserably long trip in the drafty cabin, the carriage finally landed and pulled to a stop in front of their destination. Harry had little time to be relieved; as soon as the doors opened, he was being shoved out the door and the rest of the students poured out after him. His hands were shaking as he followed the others, but he was soon distracted by the large, ornately decorated auditorium.
Everything was glittering and pristine, not to mention the adults already milling around inside, dressed in their immaculate robes and bedecked in jewelry. Given his humble upbringing, Harry felt like an imposter, like Cinderella. Though, unlike him, she had an actual interest in attending her ball.
As soon as they were inside and their winter cloaks were handed off, the Hogwarts students dispersed, all of them seeking out their families, he imagined. For a moment, he stood in a sea of unknown faces, his loneliness spreading through his chest like ice. Before it could completely overwhelm him, however, he began hearing his name whispered amongst the crowds.
It began slowly, a few people straying from their groups to introduce themselves to Harry, for which he was grateful. It was a relief to have someone to talk to, even if he didn’t know who they were, and they were all friendly and excited to see him. What he hadn’t expected, however, was for an enormous queue of important people to form in front of him, all of them waiting for a chance to meet him of all people.
Despite their public status, most of the people he met were of no consequence to him, members of obscure ministry departments or remarkable people within the wizarding world that Hermione had probably heard of. It was a shame she wasn’t invited; it would have been a good networking opportunity for her. Then again, it was possible that many of the people he was meeting were as narrow-minded as the Malfoys.
Occasionally, he was lucky enough to meet an auror, and they picked up on his enthusiasm right away and regaled him with a quick story or two. Each one was pleased when Harry expressed his interest in it as a career and were very encouraging. But just when they were sinking into conversation, they were hustled aside by another person eager to make his acquaintance. It was difficult not to respond just as rudely to them, but he managed to recall the advice given to him by McGonagall and Hermione and slipped his mask of politeness back on before he ruined his reputation.
Accompanying the conversations was gentle music coming from a small orchestra in the corner of the room. When the music began to swell with a set of introductory notes, Harry’s entire line of admirers suddenly dispersed and flooded onto the dance floor. He gawked at them as they all coupled up and began dancing in unison to the music, wondering how the hell they all knew what to do.
Was it common for everyone in the wizarding world to know how to dance like that? Once in a while, the Dursleys would watch ballroom competitions on television, so he could at least recognize the steps they were taking, although he’d never be able to replicate it on his own. The thought occurred to him that some old lady might ask him to dance, and the fear that seized him had him skittering to the furthest wall, sidling up next to a heavy drape in case he needed to sneak behind it.
Satisfied that not many people would notice him there, Harry took a deep, calming breath. He was thankful for the gloves he was wearing, otherwise, they’d be sweating, and he’d have to conspicuously wipe them on his pants. He didn’t need a course on etiquette to know that wouldn’t be the most gentlemanly thing to do. For the moment, he felt safe enough, and he took the opportunity to observe the dancing more closely.
He frowned as he tried watching their feet, but they were moving so quickly it was difficult to discern their steps and the women’s feet were covered by their frilly gowns. It wasn’t any use, so he slipped out his wand and cast a quick tempus just to check the time. As it flashed in front of him, he groaned; he hadn’t even been there an hour, and the ball was to take several.
“Aww, is the great Harry Potter lost without his adoring fans?”
Harry was so out of his element that he was actually relieved to hear Malfoy’s taunting voice. He peeked around the drape and saw him strutting toward him with his usual sneer. Harry narrowed his eyes, disgusted with how perfectly Malfoy’s dress robes suited him; going to these sorts of events and looking that good while doing it must be genetic.
“The opposite really,” Harry replied and looked around. Having Malfoy near him could possibly attract more attention, so he shushed him and waved him closer. “Quick, before someone sees you.”
Malfoy stopped in front of the drape and stared at him incredulously. Huffing impatiently, Harry reached out, grabbed his arm, and dragged him closer. As he positioned Malfoy in front of him to hide him from view, his new companion continued gaping at him as if he’d grown another head.
“What the hell’s wrong with you, Potter?”
“Sorry, I just don’t want anyone to ask me to dance.”
Harry wished he could take back his words as Malfoy’s face lit up with delight. “First dementors, and now dancing? What will the savior of the world be afraid of next?”
“Shut up. You were probably taught to dance as soon as you could walk.”
Malfoy shrugged. “That’s true, and I am damn good at it.”
“Good for you,” Harry grumbled, folding his arms to make himself seem smaller. “I’ve never done it before, so if anyone asks me, I’m going to make a fool of myself… and them.”
“So, you were just planning on hiding over here for a few hours until it’s time to go back to Hogwarts?”
“Well, I—” Harry began, but when he saw Malfoy’s insufferable grin widen, he lifted his chin obstinately. “No, but I haven’t had time to make any other plans yet.”
“Ah, is that what you were doing when I came over? Interrupted your tender thought processes, have I?”
“Is this what you’re planning on doing the whole night? Torturing me?”
Malfoy laughed lightly, but it sounded different than usual, lacking its usual harshness. “I confess that when I first heard you were coming, that was the plan,” Malfoy explained and then sighed heavily, “but I’m afraid that I have been foiled. Congratulations, Potter, you get a free pass tonight.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that my parents have instructed me to be on my best behavior tonight and I am, under no circumstances, to be rude to you. Therefore, the Draco Malfoy you will be experiencing here will be him in his most amiable and charming form without an ounce of mean-spiritedness.” Malfoy placed his hand on his chest and gave a little bow.
“You can be charming? I’m not sure I can imagine it.”
“You won’t have to imagine it, Scarhead. You’re going to experience it for yourself.”
Harry raised his eyebrows and smirked. “Wow, did you think calling me Scarhead would make you seem charming? I can’t wait to see what the rest of this evening has in store.”
Pinching his lips, Malfoy seemed as if he was actually choosing his next words carefully. “You’re right… that was rude of me. I do apologize.”
“I most enthusiastically accept your apology, Mr. Malfoy,” Harry gushed as he gave him a slight bow back.
Malfoy rolled his eyes and took a step closer, placing his hand against the wall beside Harry’s head. “Alright, Potter, you have a choice. Let me show you what these parties are really about and enjoy yourself, or you can hide in this little corner like a scared little rabbit for the next several hours, hoping no one will find you and ask you to dance. What will it be?”
Hermione had warned him not to interact with Malfoy or trouble would undoubtedly ensue. But when he’d stated Harry’s pitiful options so clearly, he found that he really had little choice. He had done enough hiding over the summer at the Dursleys’, and spending time with Malfoy without his usual bullying was an intriguing prospect.
Harry met Malfoy’s gaze and gave him a confident smile. “Lead the way.”
For a brief moment, surprise flickered in Malfoy’s pale gray eyes. But then he straightened up and gave Harry a smirk.
“Follow me.”
Slipping his hands in his pockets, he sauntered away, and Harry scrambled after him. He cleared his throat and he looked around, trying to appear as cool and confident as Malfoy was. As many eyes followed them around the room, goosebumps tingled across his skin, but he kept his chin raised, pretending that it was just the two of them. It was strange how that thought relaxed him, but he shrugged it off to the fact that Malfoy was familiar to him, a constant in his days at Hogwarts from the moment he first stepped into the castle.
When they made it to the other side of the room from the dance floor, Malfoy stopped short, and Harry reflexively stepped to the side to avoid crashing into his back. As he did, his eyes widened at the sight of a huge table full of every kind of food imaginable. It put the settings in Hogwarts’ Great Hall to shame.
“Whoa.”
Malfoy snickered and leaned in closer. “This is where we’ll be spending the majority of our time. What kind of foods do you like?”
“Um, all foods?”
“You don’t have a favorite?” Malfoy asked, lifting a single eyebrow.
Harry’s cheeks burned as he considered how different their childhoods were. “I could never afford to be picky,” he mumbled, averting his eyes.
He could feel Malfoy’s probing gaze, but Harry ignored it as he looked over the table. The area they were in seemed to have various types of small, filled pastries, the kind one could finish in about three or four bites. With all the detail and exquisite decorations on every one of them, Harry could only imagine how good they tasted.
Malfoy hummed and reached over, grabbing two tiny pies off of a platter. “Here, try this one,” he said, placing one in Harry’s hand. “It’s a mix of game and fruit… You can tell by the little details on the top.”
“Oh, that’s clever,” Harry said, admiring the shape of a pheasant amid clusters of berries. Feeling Malfoy’s gaze again, he glanced up and saw him twisting his mouth, looking like he was trying not to smile. His eyes, however, gave him away as they twinkled with amusement. Harry glared at him “You’re trying hard not to make fun of me, aren’t you?”
“No, that’s not it. Just try it, Potter. You’re probably famished.”
As he watched Malfoy take a bite, Harry sighed and tried it himself. He hummed, surprised as the delicious mix of flavors burst on his tongue, and he quickly devoured it while trying his hardest not to make a complete mess. It was only then that he realized just how hungry he was, and he was thankful Malfoy had rescued him from his hiding spot. If he had hidden there the entire evening, he would have fainted for sure.
“Good, huh?” Malfoy asked when they’d finally finished.
“Yeah, that was delicious! What’s next?”
Malfoy chuckled and glanced back at the spread. “Do you like spicy food?”
“Hmm, not too spicy. I like a good kick, though.”
“Alright then, try this,” he said, picking up a little pastry ball that was colored orange. As he held it out for him, Harry noticed that he didn’t take one for himself.
“Aren’t you having one?”
Malfoy’s cheeks flushed as he shook his head. “No, I’m not really for anything spicy, even milder ones like this.”
“Oh, I see,” Harry said, taking the small orange ball. He took a tentative bite and hummed as the flavor burst in his mouth. It was an exotic mix and while it had a good kick, it was all about the taste to Harry, and he thoroughly enjoyed it. “It’s really different. I liked that even more than the first one,” Harry stated, gazing back up at Malfoy.
He was startled to see that he’d been watching him with a curious expression on his face. It softened his pointed features, and Harry was surprised to find that Malfoy was rather good-looking when he wasn’t glaring or sneering at him.
Finally, Malfoy nodded and leaned back over the table. “Try this next. It’s similar to that one with a lot of spices, but it’s probably not as hot.”
This time, he took one for himself as well and they ate it together. Harry didn’t like it as much as the last one, but that wasn’t to say he didn’t enjoy it at all. It was a new experience for him, having so much choice in what to eat and trying foods he’d never even heard of before. He kept expecting Malfoy to make fun of him for his lack of knowledge or experience but, true to his word, he was nothing if not patient and accommodating.
“Feeling better?” Malfoy asked after a while, giving him a knowing smile.
Harry’s heart fluttered a little at the question and Malfoy’s smile, but otherwise he couldn’t deny it. “Yeah, thanks. I don’t know about all this fluffery and dancing, but the food is good.”
“I think it’s because you’re not used to it. Give it a chance, Potter, and I think you might come to enjoy this kind of fluffery. Especially when we’re older.”
Harry wrinkled his nose. “You mean I’ll have to come here again?”
“Oh yeah, you’re officially on the regular invitation list. In fact, now that you’re out in public, I’m sure you’ll receive invitations to other events as well.”
“How many balls can they possibly have?”
“Merlin, there’s a ball for every season at least, certain individuals even hold private ones, and then there are banquets which are more about speeches and food rather than dancing. There’s sporting events such as races and hunting.”
“Ugh, it all sounds so posh.”
“It is not.”
“That’s because you were raised in it. You in your fancy house—”
“Manor.”
“Manor,” Harry repeated as close to his fancy accent as he could.
Malfoy barked out a laugh. “You say that, but the Potter’s had quite an impressive house. At least they did before the war.”
“Did they? Well, it figures. I feel like I still hardly know anything about myself, while everyone here probably knows everything about me and my family’s history,” he muttered, feeling his frustration about Sirius Black sweeping back with a vengeance. He hadn’t meant to drop the mood like that, and he scrambled for something to say to pick it back up again.
“I don’t know that much,” Malfoy said gently, drawing Harry’s gaze back to him. A whisper of a smile played on his lips as his eyes traveled up to Harry’s wild hair. “Have you heard of Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion?”
Harry frowned and gave him a light jab with his elbow. “Are you going to make fun of my hair?”
“No, because that would be rude,” Malfoy said, hardly containing his laughter. “But I have a reason for bringing it up. That hair potion was revolutionary, and it was invented by Fleamont Potter, your grandfather.”
“What?” Harry asked as his eyes widened. “My grandfather? Like, my father’s father?”
“Yes, that one. He was brilliant at brewing potions and when he invented it, he sold the recipe and made a bloody fortune off it. You may have had a humble upbringing, but you actually have a great deal of money tucked away, don’t you, Potter?”
Harry felt his face flush and he nodded sheepishly. Malfoy gave him a withering look, but it didn’t feel demeaning. It was as if he were hinting that Harry shouldn’t care about the fact that he was rich. It was a bit of relief, actually, since he often diminished the fact whenever he was around Ron so he wouldn’t make him feel bad.
“Anyway,” Malfoy continued, “that’s where most of your money probably came from. It allowed them to raise your father in a great deal of comfort, I’m sure. Your grandmother, in fact, was a Black.”
Harry stiffened. “Like, Sirius Black?”
To his credit, Malfoy winced, regretting his words. “Sorry, I didn’t think about that. I only brought it up because my mother is a Black. They are a very old and respected house, just as much as the Malfoys.”
“Oh, I see.”
A part of him wanted to say that he didn’t give two shits about being part of a respected house, but he could tell that Malfoy was making an effort to make him feel better. The part about his grandfather inventing Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion, however, was very interesting and it made him feel good, knowing something about a family member as close as his own grandfather.
Harry chuckled and grinned at Malfoy. “To think my grandfather was such a genius at Potions when I’m… well, you know.”
Malfoy snorted. “It’s literally just following directions, Potter. I don’t know how you can mess up so much.”
“It’s not like I can’t follow directions. I just get confused sometimes and Snape’s always breathing down my neck,” he added, his body giving a convulsive shiver at the thought.
“He does really seem to have it out for you,” Malfoy admitted. “Do you know why?”
“No, but it may have something to do with my dad. He’s always muttering stuff about how he was intolerably arrogant.”
“Was he?”
Harry gave him a hard look. “Do you really think I know? All I know about my father is what I inherited from him and that I look exactly like him. Except my eyes.”
“Those belonged to your mum?” Malfoy asked quietly, staring deeply at him. It made Harry feel nervous, knowing he was picking out all the individual shades of green within his irises. It was the most exposed he’d ever felt in front of Malfoy, but he didn’t look away.
“Yeah, they’re just like hers.”
“Hmm, she must have been lovely.”
Harry’s breath hitched. There was no mockery in Malfoy’s words, and he hadn’t said it out of mere obligation. It was the first time he’d ever referenced his mother in such a kind way. Harry felt something shift inside him, opening him up to the possibility that Malfoy wasn’t just acting nicer to him, but he may have been hiding a decent side all along...
The way he mentioned that she must have been lovely based on how Harry’s own eyes looked occupied his thoughts as well. Did that mean that he thought Harry was— No, no, that would be silly. Clearing his throat, Harry gave him a bashful smile.
“She was lovely, from what I’ve seen in pictures.”
Malfoy’s smile widened, softening all his features once again. Harry was thankful that he couldn’t read minds, because his thoughts were screaming with questions.
Could he always smile like that? Or is he seriously just that good of an actor? Should I keep going along with it? I have to get a grip, or this’ll be a disaster when we get back to Hogwarts.
“Do I dare interrupt whatever’s going on here?” a familiar voice teased.
Malfoy frowned as they turned toward Pansy Parkinson, strolling up to them in a shimmering violet gown with a fur wrapped around her arms. She laughed at the look on Malfoy’s face.
“I just came to make sure you were behaving, Draco. After all the fuss you’ve made so far this year, you know your parents would be livid if you caused trouble with Potter. So, is he behaving himself?” she asked Harry.
“Amazingly, yes,” he replied and then gave Malfoy a sly smile. “He’s been an amiable gentleman.”
Malfoy blushed a little as he smiled broadly. “See?”
Pansy snorted and patted his shoulder. “Yes, I’m very proud of you. Were you two planning on staying here the entire night, just eating?” she asked as she reached around Harry to take a small pasty for herself, biting into it daintily.
“Mostly,” Harry said, shifting nervously on his feet. “Were you, um, hoping to dance with Malfoy?”
She glanced at him curiously. “I expected to dance with him sometime this evening, but I’m in no rush. Why, do you not want me to?”
“It’s not that. It’s just, um…” he began, but he had no clue how to explain how nervous it made him to think of Malfoy leaving his side. It didn’t make sense, and it would be humiliating to admit it.
“I’m not just entertaining him over here, Pansy,” Malfoy said, puffing up his chest. “I’m his guardian.”
“His guardian?” she asked with a laugh. “What does that even mean?”
“It means that I am blocking him from view so none of these middle-aged biddies ask him to dance. Now come on, let’s pick something else out for him to eat. The poor boy has never had such good food. He prefers lots of spices but nothing that’s going to set his mouth on fire. I think he has a special inclination to Indian flavors.”
“Oh, this one has curry in it,” Pansy said, picking one up and dropping it in Harry’s hands.
Just like that, Harry found himself being fussed over by two Slytherins. Even more incredible was the fact that he was enjoying it. It wasn’t in his nature to be spoiled by anyone since he’d had to look out for himself his entire life. Even amongst his own friends, he knew that it would be just as strange for them to coddle him as it would be for him to be on the receiving end of it. There was a playfulness, however, in the way Malfoy and Pansy pampered him, cooing over their poor little orphan boy, and he felt compelled to react just as dramatically.
“I never knew food as good as this existed,” he sniffed.
Malfoy snickered and reached over to pat his head. “Don’t worry. We’ll make sure you try only the best things.” His smile slipped a little as his eyes traveled higher to Harry’s hair. As his fingers continued running through it, he whispered, “Fluffy…”
It felt good having his fingers threading through his unruly hair, putting him in a serene state. Nobody ever touched his hair, but he figured that was because they believed they’d never be able to get their hand out of it. Malfoy, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have that problem as continued playing with his hair.
Pansy gasped suddenly, and Malfoy and Harry both jumped away from each other. “What are we doing? If we’re going to spoil Potter, we’re at the wrong end of the table! Come on,” she said, slipping her arm through Harry’s and dragging him away.
Harry glanced back over his shoulder, but Malfoy simply shrugged and motioned for him to go along with it. He soon realized what Pansy had meant as he spotted decadent desserts in every kind of color on the table.
“Alright, Potter, what kind of sweets do you like?”
“Uh, I like the taste of toffees, but I don’t like how they get stuck in my teeth. I suppose treacle tarts are my favorite at the moment?”
“Treacle tart?!” she cried, pressing her hand to her forehead. “If that’s the best you’ve had, then you haven’t even lived!”
“What’s she being dramatic about now?” Blaise Zabini asked as he sauntered over to join them.
Malfoy chuckled and patted Harry’s shoulder. “We’re spoiling Potter because he’s hardly tried anything. Nothing he couldn’t get from Hogwarts, anyway.”
“Merlin,” Blaise murmured and picked up a tiny plate with an even tinier square cake on it. Handing it to Harry, he said, “Time to experience the finer things in life, Potter.”
One by one, Harry tried the desserts Blaise and Pansy gave him. Each one was delicious, but he still wasn’t sure they were better than anything Hogwarts had to offer. He had the suspicion they were just being snobbish, but he was still enjoying the royal treatment they were offering. When he noticed that Malfoy hadn’t picked anything out for him in a while, however, he glanced up at him.
Malfoy’s expression was pensive as he stared at Harry, and he didn’t even falter when he noticed Harry watching him back. Harry, on the other hand, felt his heart race wildly at being stared at so closely, and he wondered why he was looking at him like that. Luckily, Blaise distracted Harry by handing him a small cup of chocolatey liquid and indicated for him to drink it. When he did, Harry winced and coughed as soon as he’d swallowed the whole thing.
“Not your cup of tea?” Blaise asked, smirking.
“Not at all.”
“It had a slight kick of bitter alcohol in it, the kind that can burn your tonsils out.” He shrugged and drank one himself in one shot. Licking his lips, he said, “It’s an acquired taste.”
Harry cringed, wishing he hadn’t even bothered with that one. Malfoy laughed softly and waved at a passing waiter. Plucking two glasses off the tray, he held one out for Harry to take.
“Thanks,” he said gratefully and took a long sip.
Once Harry had cleared his palate, Malfoy reached over and grabbed a small chocolate ball and held it out for Harry. Curiously, Harry took it and bit it in half. He hummed as he chewed, detecting several flavors within the chocolate, and enjoying the mixture of nuts within it. As a pool of smooth caramel rolled on his tongue, he sighed softly. Malfoy watched him expectantly and as Harry smiled around the mouthful, he lit up.
“Like that?”
“Yeah, that was great!”
Malfoy puffed up like a peacock and gave the other two a smug grin. “Just as I thought.”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “It was just luck!”
“It was not. Unlike you two, I have been observing Potter instead of shoving random desserts in his mouth. It was obvious which ones he liked and which ones he thought were just okay. Try looking for ones with various textures and flavors, bonus points if there’s caramel in it.”
Suddenly, the room felt unbearably hot, and he couldn’t blame it on the food since none of it had been spicy. How had Malfoy known that was his favorite bit? He didn’t have long to think about it before Malfoy turned back toward him with a handful of small chocolate candies.
“They’re small, but I think you’ll be surprised by them,” he said eagerly and held one up. “Open,” he commanded gently, and Harry opened his mouth as obediently as a trained dog.
Malfoy’s lips parted, looking a bit surprised, and he made no move to put the chocolate in Harry’s mouth. Beside him, Harry could hear Blaise and Pansy chortling, but he couldn’t care less what they found so funny. He was getting impatient.
“Well? Are you going to give me one?” Harry asked, and Malfoy flinched. He quickly dropped one of the chocolates into Harry’s mouth and yanked his hand away as if it had been burned. Harry rolled his eyes but as the chocolate melted in his mouth, he yelped in surprise.
“It fizzes!”
“Y-Yeah, it does,” Malfoy replied, swallowing hard. “It’s weirdly pleasant, isn’t it?”
“It is, and it gives an extra burst of flavor too, something fruity. Can I have another?”
“Of course.”
As Malfoy plucked another one from his hand and held it up, his cheeks began to turn a light pink. When he went to place the chocolate in Harry’s open mouth, however, he didn’t pull back as quickly, allowing the very tips of his fingers to graze Harry’s lips. He was wearing silky gloves, of course, but Harry’s lips still tingled from the contact.
“You alright there, Draco?” Blaise asked. “Is your heart giving you trouble?”
Harry frantically glanced between them. Did Malfoy have heart trouble? He’d never heard that before, and he wouldn’t have even suspected it since he was active on the Quidditch team. Harry finally relaxed when he saw Malfoy roll his eyes at his friend, making it evident that Blaise had just been teasing.
“I’m fine, Blaise. My heart is as cold as ever, thank you very much.”
“Right.”
Pansy giggled and touched Harry’s arm. “Come on, Potter. Let’s give Draco a break and go dance.”
“What?” Harry squawked and scrambled away from her, ducking behind Malfoy’s back. As Blaise buckled over in laughter, Pansy gaped at him in shock.
“What do you mean what? It’s a ball, Potter, and I am not a middle-aged biddy. Besides, why are you hiding behind Draco of all people?”
“Because… Well, he said that we’d be spending our evening here instead of dancing,” he started, glancing up at Malfoy for help. His stomach squeezed tightly as Malfoy gazed down at him in sympathy.
“Sorry, Potter, but I said we’d be spending the majority of our time here. I never said I’d get you out of dancing altogether.”
“But I can’t dance!”
“Listen,” Malfoy said gently, quieting Harry in an instant. “It would reflect badly on you if you didn’t dance at all. I know reputation doesn’t matter much to you at this moment, but there’s no escaping the fact that you’ll always be a public figure and what you do now could come back to haunt you later. Dancing isn’t as bad as you think it is, and Pansy may not look like it, but she’s a very good dancer. She’ll take care of you.”
“Exactly!” Pansy said proudly. Her face fell suddenly, and she glared back at Malfoy. “Hey! What do you mean I may not look like a good dancer?”
Malfoy snickered and reached behind him, pressing his hand against the small of Harry’s back and pulling him around. “Come on, Potter. Show that Gryffindor spirit.”
“Yes,” Pansy said, pulling Harry closer, “just don’t use it to step on my toes.”
Even with their encouragement, Harry glanced back at Malfoy one more time. It did make him feel a little pathetic that he was relying on him so heavily, especially given their past, but as Malfoy smiled back at him, Harry felt most of his nerves melt away.
“Alright,” he said, sighing. “Show me how it’s done, Parkinson.”
She smiled smugly and slipped her arm through his, leading him toward the dance floor. “Don’t worry, Potter. We’ll stay off to the side mostly until you get the hang of it.” Just as she said, she stopped them on the edge, giving them plenty of room to maneuver out of the way of other couples. She turned toward him and held her right hand out and put her other one on Harry’s shoulder. “One hand in mine, the other on my waist.”
It was slow and awkward at first, listening to Pansy’s instructions as she guided him to move. The music kept a steady rhythm, however, and each step was numbered in sequence to it. Once Harry understood the pattern of it, he began to relax and move along with her.
“Nicely done!” she praised. “I’m surprised you got the hang of it so quickly.”
“It’s less complicated than I thought.”
“Depends on the dance really. A waltz is the easiest one you can do.”
“Oh,” Harry sighed. “Can I at least stick to those then?”
“Maybe, but I think you enjoy a little challenge, don’t you, Potter?” she asked with eyes glittering with mischief.
Scoffing, Harry retorted, “You Slytherins think you have me all figured out, huh?”
She threw her head back with a laugh. “No offense, but we’ve always had you figured out. No one could ever call you two-faced, Potter. What you see is what you get.”
“Careful, Parkinson, that almost sounded like a compliment,” he teased.
“Call me Pansy. I hate hearing my surname bandied about like I’m some brainless idiot on the Quidditch team.”
“Oh, then you better call me Harry.”
She giggled fiendishly and leaned in closer. “I cannot wait to call you that in front of Draco. He’ll be livid.”
“Why?”
“Because I got on first name basis before he did.”
Harry snorted. “He’s the one that started that. I don’t mind if he calls me Harry either.”
“Then you should tell him that, but not before I call you Harry in front of him. I want to rub it in his face.”
It was bewildering, hearing her speak of Malfoy like that. With all of her fawning, he would have thought she was in love with him, but now they seem no more than old chums. He knew it wasn’t any of his business, but he couldn’t overcome his curiosity and cleared his throat.
“Are you and Malfoy, um, together?”
She faltered slightly at the question and her cheeks quickly turned a light pink. “No, definitely not. I mean, I used to have a stupid crush on him, which began even before we went to Hogwarts, but it’s obvious that he’d never think of me like that. It didn’t make me stop caring about him, of course, but my fancy is currently wandering. Speaking of which,” she said as she pulled Harry closer again and smirked, “what’s the deal with you three? You, Weasley, and Granger.”
“Deal? We’re friends, of course.”
“There’s more to it than that, isn’t there? Is she with one of you? With both of you? Or are you and him—”
“Oh, God, no,” Harry said emphatically. “As far as I know, we’re all just friends.”
She narrowed her eyes with a hum. “I’m not sure I buy that. I only suspect that whatever’s going on is over your head.”
Harry winced. “That’s definitely possible; Hermione’s always more in tune with that sort of thing. I think of them both as my best friends; I know that much.”
“Fair enough,” she said, shrugging. “Would you be a dear and let me know if anything develops? I have a little thing for Weasley.”
“Really?! With Ron?”
“Yeah, he’s kind of fit. Tall and slender with those sparkling blue eyes. I want to climb up on his shoulders,” she murmured with a far-off look in her eyes.
Harry recoiled at the image, but he didn’t hate the fact that Pansy admired his best friend, even if it was just physically. “If you’re that interested in him, you should try being nicer to him… and Hermione.”
“Why?”
“Because, even if there isn’t anything between him and Hermione, he would never fancy someone who was cruel to her.”
Pansy sighed dramatically. “Fine, I’ll be a bit nicer.” As she tilted her head, she gazed at him seriously. “Does that go for you, too? Could you ever like someone who was mean to her?”
Harry had no idea why, but it was specifically Malfoy that popped into his mind when she asked. It wasn’t as if he liked him like that, though he was becoming more and more interested in friendship as the evening wore on. Thinking about what life would be like the next day if Malfoy went back to his old ways, he couldn’t help feeling dejected.
“No,” he said softly, casting a covert glance across the hall. Malfoy was watching them steadily. “I couldn’t like someone who was mean to my friends. If someone had been mean in the past but they stopped doing it and apologized, I would give them a chance.”
Pansy hummed with a sly smile. “I’ll be sure to pass that information along to any interested parties. Alright, are you ready for a new dance move?”
Harry hastily shook his head. “No.”
“Pfft, just follow my lead. It’s not hard.”
Releasing his shoulder, she raised his hand higher and she twirled around underneath it, all while they continued moving in the same rhythm. As she came back to him, he exhaled slowly.
“Okay, that wasn’t so bad.”
She laughed, and he felt himself smiling along with her. “Good, because next time you’ll initiate it. Whenever you’re ready.”
He nodded and waited a couple of turns before he tried it, lifting his hand and guiding her underneath it. As they completed the move without mishap, Harry’s confidence swelled. It wasn’t as if dancing was easy, but he loved mastering a challenge. It made him feel like he was discovering Quidditch all over again.
Which was why it came as a shock when the dance ended and Pansy stepped away from him, giving an elegant curtsy.
“Bow, Potter,” she whispered, and he abruptly bent forward. She stifled a laugh and pulled him up. “There now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“Surprisingly, no. It was kind of fun.”
“See? And you were so afraid of it,” she teased as she slipped her arm back through his and led them back to the buffet.
As they approached the other companions, Blaise grinned and held up his glass, toasting Harry before knocking it back. Malfoy, on the other hand, had his arms crossed and his lips were twisted with dissatisfaction. Harry bristled at the look, suddenly feeling self-conscious again.
“What’s with you? Going to offer some criticism?”
“Not to you. Come on, Pansy, was that the best you could do?”
Pansy gasped, scandalized. “You’re joking! Were you actually watching, because I taught Harry that waltz in a jiffy, and he was an expert by the end of it.”
For a moment, Malfoy looked stunned, mouthing Harry’s name back at her. Pansy responded by giving him the smuggest smile Harry had ever seen on her, and that was saying something. Malfoy shook it off quickly, however, and gave his hair a haughty flip.
“It was a waltz, only the easiest thing in the world. Come on, Potter, I’ll show you how it’s done,” he said, holding out his hand.
Harry’s pulse quickened as he stared at his hand with wide eyes. “You want to dance with me?”
“Yes.”
“But we’re both men.”
“Does that bother you?”
“No, but who will lead?” Harry asked, and he cringed as Malfoy burst out laughing. It was a harsh laugh, the kind he always assaulted Harry with whenever he’d done something stupid. It was a reminder that he was still the same Draco Malfoy that he knew before, and it disappointed him more than it should have. Even Pansy rolled her eyes and shook her head at him.
Once he had recovered, Malfoy waved him off. “I will be leading, Potter, as I am the one who knows what he’s doing. Now, are you coming?” That was what he asked, but Harry could hear the other question, are you scared, layered over it.
Lifting his chin, Harry accepted Malfoy’s hand. “Let’s do this.”
Malfoy’s face lit up, making him look more innocent and instantly more likable. With a beaming smile, he grasped Harry’s hand and led him back to the dance floor. The next song had already begun, and Harry realized with a shock that it didn’t have the same rhythm or movements as the waltz.
“It’s alright,” Malfoy murmured, squeezing his hand gently. “I know it looks complicated, but I think you’ll get the hang of it quickly. After all, this dance is more intuitive than the technical waltz.”
“What do you mean?”
“There are some basic movements, but it’s so much more about the feeling behind it rather than getting the steps just right. Here, watch for a moment.”
Despite Malfoy’s assurances, he was just as nervous as before, thinking about dancing intuitively. He wasn’t a natural dancer and he’d relied heavily on the simple, technical aspects of the waltz. There was an alluring quality to the music, however, and he noticed very quickly that every one of the couples were only in tune with each other, shutting out the world around them.
“There’s a couple of men there dancing,” Malfoy said, nodding in their direction, “if you’re still squeamish about that.”
“I was never squeamish,” Harry replied as he gazed at the pair. One of them was very clean cut in traditional robes, but the other one had shoulder length black hair, dark makeup, and wild, ripped up clothing. He was so intriguing that Harry wanted to watch him more, but they disappeared into the crowd after a moment. Sighing, he glanced back at Malfoy. “I never really thought about it before, to be honest, but I have no problem with it.”
“So, you have no problem dancing with a man?”
There was an edge to his voice, as if a lot was hanging on Harry’s reply. Grasping Malfoy’s arm, Harry waited until he had his full attention before smiling.
“It’s less about gender, I think, and more on the specific person I’m dancing with. With that said, I wouldn’t have accepted your hand if I didn’t want to dance with you, Malfoy. So, are you going to show me how to do this one, or are you chickening out?”
His words had just the effect he wanted as Malfoy straightened up proudly and turned Harry toward him. “By the time we’re done with this, Potter, you won’t even remember Pansy’s name.”
Harry laughed and shook his head. “Why are you being so competitive with her all of a sudden? You were the one who pushed me to dance with her.”
“I have regrets. Now, follow my lead,” he said, placing his hand on Harry’s waist.
He jumped at the touch, though he should have expected it. Malfoy was leading, after all, but it was alarming to have his hand in such an intimate place.
Since when are his hands so big, he wondered, seeing how much of his waist was covered by Malfoy’s palm and fingers.
“Hand up on my shoulder, Potter,” he instructed, and as Harry reached up and grasped his shoulder, Malfoy pulled them even closer. Harry’s breath escaped him for a moment, overwhelmed by the proximity of their faces and the heat of Malfoy’s body pressing against him. A playful smile rested on Malfoy’s lips as his eyes bored into Harry’s. “Good, now move a bit this way.”
He shuffled a little to the right, and then moved back, guiding Harry along with him. He kept the movements small, allowing Harry to get the hang of it before lengthening his stride a bit. It was vastly different from dancing with Pansy, who gave him precise instructions and counts. He didn’t know if it was the style of dance, this one being more instinctive, or Malfoy’s own style of dancing.
While Harry wasn’t sure if he preferred one way or the other, there was something special about the organic way he and Malfoy moved together, like this was their dance, one that no one else could replicate. He especially felt that way as Malfoy began improvising, turning Harry out and then pulling him back in with a flourish. Harry laughed and went along with it, moving a little bit more to the music.
“There you are,” Malfoy purred into his ear once he was close enough. It sent Harry’s heart into a frenzy, and he was thankful that Malfoy wasn’t looking at his face. “It’s fun, isn’t it? It’s my favorite dance.”
“Really?” Harry asked curiously. “Why’s that?”
“A waltz is good and all, but it’s so stiff. This one’s a bit… naughty.”
Harry laughed softly. “I know what you mean. It’s a tease.”
“Exactly!” Malfoy said, pulling back so suddenly it startled Harry. “It’s so much about the two dancing, and how they feel about each other. It reminds me a little of my parents, actually.”
Suddenly picturing Lucius Malfoy, Harry grimaced. “Really?”
Malfoy snorted at his expression and spun him again to shake him out of it. “Yes, it does. You’ve met my father. He’s superior in every way, Lord of Malfoy Manor,” Malfoy said in a deeper voice with a sneer that was a perfect imitation of Lucius, making Harry snicker. “But no one knows that it’s my mother who’s really in charge. She’s quiet and proper, which makes people think she’s weak but she’s not at all. She’s subtle about it, and with a soft word or delicate touch, she can wrap my father around her finger.”
Harry always preferred a straightforward approach rather than a subtle, manipulative one. He couldn’t deny, however, that he liked the idea of Lucius Malfoy being swayed by a clever wife.
“Why does it remind you of the dance?”
“Well, you know how I’m leading, right?”
“Yeah.”
“If you wanted, you could probably lure me the way you wanted me to go, even while I’m still technically leading.”
Harry tilted his head as he focused on the gentle but firm way Malfoy was guiding him this way and that. With the tiniest movement of his hand, he was able to direct Harry into the movement he was trying to perform, and it was impossible to tell if that was from Harry’s ability to take direction or Malfoy’s ability to lead. It was becoming so comfortable that he couldn’t imagine even wanting to lure Malfoy somewhere else.
“Don’t think about it too hard, Potter,” Malfoy laughed. “It’s not like a complicated spell or something.”
“I was just trying to figure out how I’d even do that. For one thing, I like you leading me.”
“I noticed that. I’m surprised you haven’t been fighting me for dominance the entire time.”
“It’s weird, I wouldn’t have expected it either, especially with how prone we are to fighting,” he added with a smirk. “I’ve never really had anyone take care of me, though, so maybe it’s nice just to be… I don’t know, submissive for once.”
For the first time, Malfoy stumbled a little in his step sequence, but he was too busy gawking at Harry to realize. As what he actually said dawned on him, Harry’s face fell, and he shook his head quickly.
“Th-That’s not what I meant,” Harry started, but Malfoy was already looking delighted by the revelation.
“There’s no shame in it, Potter. Lots of men prefer that.”
“You’re taking what I said out of context.”
“I haven’t taken anything out of context. I’m only going by what you’ve so graciously told me,” Malfoy said, spinning them both around with a pleased smile on his lips.
Harry groaned. “You’re never going to forget this, are you?”
“Nope.”
“Are you going to blackmail me with it later?”
Malfoy snorted. “Listen, Potter, I believe in the power of information and, yes, sometimes giving out delicious little secrets like the one you just me can be very lucrative. However, it would make me even happier if I’m the only one who knows this aspect of you.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” Malfoy said, gazing at him thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s because everyone’s always looked up to you as a leader, even before you had to prove yourself. I like being the only one who knows this side of you.”
“Oh,” Harry said softly, thinking of it in that context. “I do like being a leader around my friends. It makes me happy that they trust me. At the same time, I think it would be nice to be, I don’t know, cared for in the down time, when nothing’s really going on. Does that make sense?”
“The Chosen One deserves a little pampering?” Malfoy supplied, and he laughed as Harry stepped lightly on his toe. “Sorry, sorry, I know I’m pushing it. I do understand what you mean though. It’s slightly different, but I can relate to it with my friends. They all follow my lead and none of them are… Well, I can’t say they’re not on my level because that would make me sound like I’m full of myself.”
“No, not at all.”
Their eyes met for a moment and then, in unison, they began to laugh. Instead of continuing their conversation, Malfoy put a little space between them and stepped around Harry, twisting his feet around in a fancy sequence. As he stepped back, he gave Harry an expectant grin. Harry wrinkled his nose, but he tried it himself. It wasn’t nearly as clean, but Malfoy seemed pleased that he’d tried as he repeated it. Once Harry got the hang of it, Malfoy surprised him by turning him about quickly and then catching him in a firm grip once he’d come back around.
“As I was saying,” he continued, ignoring Harry as he rolled his eyes. “It’s hard to put into words exactly, but it’s hard finding someone who can meet me head-on. Blaise is very clever, perhaps cleverer than I am— don’t tell him I said that— but he’s as lackadaisical as they come. You and your friends seem to have a good rapport, despite you being thrown into the leadership position.”
Harry hummed, finally grasping what he was saying. “You’re right. Even if I’m a so-called leader, we’re all on equal ground.”
“Exactly… Makes me a bit envious really,” Malfoy added quietly and then flinched, looking as if he instantly regretted saying that.
“I understand,” Harry said quickly. It was the most vulnerable he’d ever seen Malfoy, and he didn’t want him to close himself off. His tongue tied up instantly, however, not knowing where to go from there and wished he could be smoother. Hermione would have known what to say, but the thought of her dancing amicably with Draco Malfoy was even stranger than it was for him.
Luckily, Malfoy seemed satisfied with that and relaxed, allowing his eyes to wander a bit around the room. Harry gazed at him instead, wondering how much of Malfoy’s past animosity had come from jealousy. If he hadn’t bullied him and his friends constantly, Harry had the feeling that they would have already shaken off the distaste from their initial meeting and would have been friends by this point.
Suddenly, Malfoy’s eyes lit up and he glanced back down at Harry. “Those two men I showed you earlier, watch them dance.”
Harry looked around until he spotted the pair. His eyes widened as he watched them doing several fancy step work, their feet moving so quickly that he could hardly keep up with it. Then the one with long black hair and ripped up clothes lifted his leg high up on his partner and bent backward.
“Whoa,” he said as he leaned in closer to Malfoy, “I’m not sure I’m ready for that move yet.”
Malfoy turned his head away from the pair and laughed. His warm breath fanned through a bit of Harry’s hair, sending a shiver down his spine.
He leaned in and hovered his lips beside Harry’s ear, murmuring, “Let’s save that one for next time, alright?”
Harry closed his eyes and focused on slowing his racing heart. “I think we’ll need to practice it a bit.”
“Well, I’m at your disposal anytime you’d like to work on it. Did you know that one with long hair is one of the Weird Sisters?”
“Huh?” Harry said, startled by the change in subject.
“You’ve heard of the Weird Sisters, right, Potter?” Malfoy asked, pulling back a little.
“Yeah! I’ve heard them on the wireless,” he said, glancing back at the man with the torn-up clothes. Figured he’d be in a popular band with that look. His leather pants looked like they were painted on.
“He’s the lead singer of it; Myron Wagtail.”
“He’s really cool,” Harry mused, and he smiled as he watched Myron smirking seductively at his partner. There was something about his confidence and his smirk that reminded him of Malfoy, and he glanced between them a couple times.
Malfoy stared at him apprehensively. “What is it?”
“I think you’d look good with that hair.”
Malfoy’s eyes widened and he stole another look at Myron. “With black hair?”
Harry snorted. “No, that style. I think you’d look nice with longer hair.”
“Hmm, I’ve thought about it, but I don’t want to look just like my father.”
“I don’t think you would. Your father’s style is completely different. Myron’s is a different length and kind of disheveled. I think it would make you look wilder.”
With pink cheeks, Malfoy grinned back at him. “You think I’d look good wild?”
Harry met his smile as he pictured it. “Yeah, definitely.”
Malfoy pursed his lips and glanced away. “Maybe I’ll try it sometime.”
“You should.”
“Though I don’t think I should be taking hair advice from you.”
“Hey, now, my grandfather was Fleamont Potter, inventor of Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion.”
“You wouldn’t even know that if it wasn’t for me!” Malfoy laughed. “For that, I’m going to dip you.”
“No, no, no, don’t!” Harry squeaked, but Malfoy had a firm grip on him as he twisted him around and leaned him back. His expression must have been priceless judging from the delighted look on Malfoy’s face. “I thought you were going to be nice to me,” Harry pouted.
Malfoy wiggled his eyebrows. “I suppose nice is a bit subjective, because I think I’m being very nice,” he purred and then, with a surprising amount of strength, pulled Harry back up. He chuckled as he fell straight into the rhythm of the music while Harry’s head was still spinning. Before he could catch up, however, the music wound down and all the other couples were finishing their movements. “Oh, it’s over,” Malfoy said, his shoulders dropping. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
“That’s strange. It went by so quickly.”
“That was a very long dance, Potter,” Malfoy laughed, shaking his head. “I take it that you enjoyed it?”
“It was fun,” Harry admitted, shrugging.
Suddenly, half the couples around them began to pour off the dance floor toward the buffet table, most of them heading right in their direction.
“Quick!” Malfoy said, taking his hand and pulling him ahead of the crowd. They laughed as they scurried away, heading straight for the dessert end where Pansy and Blaise were still indulging themselves.
“Don’t you two look cute together!” Pansy gushed as she eyed their clasped hands.
They pulled apart instantly, and Harry tried to find something else to do with his hands, adjusting his bow tie and shirt cuffs. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Malfoy doing the same thing.
“Come on now, don’t be bashful,” Blaise teased. “It’s good that you two were having fun.”
“Yes,” Pansy agreed. “I still think my dance with Harry was better, cleaner at the very least, but it was charming watching you laugh together.”
“I think we both need a drink,” Malfoy said dryly, and Harry nodded in full agreement.
The other two took the hint and changed the subject, imparting all the gossip they had gathered while they were away for that one dance. Harry was never one for that kind of talk, but he was thankful for the distraction as he sipped his drink. It also gave him a chance to observe the other three as their conversation flowed naturally, full of scathing comments about other guests and peppered with witty banter. He could hardly keep up with it, but he couldn’t help smiling a little whenever Malfoy said something clever.
Harry did get dragged into the conversation eventually, mostly because Blaise and Pansy were convinced that he should have been put in Slytherin. When he sheepishly admitted that he almost was and that he refused it, his companions gasped dramatically.
“How can you refuse the Sorting Hat?” Blaise asked, shaking his head in disbelief.
“You would have had so much more fun with us!” Pansy cried as she pinched his arm hard.
“Ouch!” Harry yelped and shook her off. “Is physical abuse part of your fun?”
“Sometimes,” she said with a smirk.
Malfoy frowned as he asked, “Why would you refuse Slytherin? You hardly knew anything about Hogwarts when you came to it, so why would you even have an opinion?”
“Um, well…”
On any other day, Harry would have told Malfoy that he didn’t want to be in Slytherin because he had been such a prat when he met him, and he didn’t want to be in the same house as him. There was also the fact that Ron had informed him about all the bad things Slytherins were known for and, to his credit, he hadn’t been wrong so far. But at that moment, he didn’t have it in his heart to hurt Malfoy that way, not when he’d been making such an effort all evening.
Pansy saved him from explaining himself as she hummed, tapping her finger against her lips. “So, if the hat was debating Slytherin and Gryffindor for Harry, would that make him a Slytherdor or a Gryfferin?”
“Slytherdor.”
“Gryfferin.”
When Malfoy and Blaise answered in unison, they glared at each other petulantly. They all turned to Harry, and he shrugged awkwardly.
“Neither. I’m just a Gryffindor.”
“Whatever,” Pansy said, setting her empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray. “Come on, Draco, it’s our turn to dance.”
Malfoy groaned at first, but he relented after she gave him a particularly stern glare and held out his arm. By the time the two made it to the dance floor, they were perfectly in sync and all smiles. Harry watched them a little with a strange sinking feeling in his stomach.
“It’s easy for them,” Blaise said, knocking his shoulder against Harry’s. “They’ve been dancing at these things forever.”
“I figured,” Harry replied, hoping his sudden glum mood hadn’t shown on his face. He forced a smile on his face and said, “I bet they’re both relieved to be dancing with someone who knows what they’re doing.”
Blaise looked at him curiously. “Not as much as you’d think. Pansy likes showing off as much as Draco does, so to teach you, of all people, probably appealed to them. I also think that you have a better rapport with Draco than Pansy does.”
“Seriously? Us?”
Snickering, Blaise turned back to the table to grab one of those bitter, chocolate cups. “Yeah, you. All these years you two have spent going back and forth, it’s liable to change into something different once you take mutual dislike out of the equation.”
“What’s it going to change into?”
Blaise gave him a sly look and said, “That’s for you two to find out, I guess. Anyway, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you, Potter. What’s the deal with Hermione Granger? Is she with you or Weasley?”
Harry snickered and repeated the conversation he had with Pansy, though with the focus more on Hermione than Ron. He was pleased to discover that Blaise wasn’t as narrow-minded about blood purity as his family and friends were, and he greatly admired Hermione for how intelligent and hard-working she was, even if he didn’t share the latter aspect.
For the next several hours, they all fell into a pattern, dancing in various combinations and taking breaks for food and drink. He danced once with Blaise and while it wasn’t uncomfortable, it wasn’t nearly as much fun as dancing with Malfoy. He wondered about what Blaise had said, about their fighting turning into something else. Whether they were at each other’s throats or dancing and laughing together, their chemistry was undeniable.
It was further proven when Harry got the chance to dance with Malfoy again. He was a little disappointed that it was a waltz, but the simplicity of the movements did allow them to fall into a deeper, more meaningful conversation.
“Have you seriously not replaced your broom yet?” Malfoy asked, raising his eyebrows. “You’re going to get hammered by Ravenclaw if you don’t get one soon. You think you can beat their seeker to the snitch on one of the school brooms?”
Harry’s fingers tightened around Malfoy’s hand and shoulders before he could stop it. “Actually, I received a Firebolt for Christmas.”
Malfoy’s eyes widened. “An actual Firebolt?! How did I not hear about this? They’re so expensive that my father refused to get me one. Also, we bought the whole team Nimbus 2001’s last year,” he added with a cough. “So, who got it for you?”
“That’s just it; it was anonymously sent. Hermione thought it could be from Sirius Black and he’d probably jinxed it, so she reported it to McGonagall, and she confiscated it to be tested. I’m not sure when I’ll get it back, if I get it back at all.”
“You’re joking,” Malfoy whispered, looking seriously distraught. “And you’re still talking to her?”
“It’s tense right now, but we’re managing.”
“Why would Sirius Black use the most expensive, top of the line racing broom to curse you? If he had that kind of time and disposable income, he could hide out in some other country in ultimate luxury with his own security detail, safe from dementors and aurors. That would be the worst murderous scheme I’d ever heard of.”
“I know,” Harry said, enjoying Malfoy’s support in the matter. “Well, there’s nothing I can do about it now. If they don’t finish checking it before the Ravenclaw game, I’ll have no choice but to use one of the school’s brooms.” As another alternative suddenly popped into his mind, Harry laughed. “Maybe they’d let me ride Buckbeak instead.”
“Buckbeak?” Malfoy asked, looking very confused.
“The hippogriff.” Harry frowned and said, “The one you taunted even when Hagrid said not to and then—”
“Oh, that bloody thing! You’d rather ride that than one of the school brooms? Good luck to you.”
Harry’s indignance prickled at his skin. “You’re the one who was missing out. It was incredible to ride him, and he’s faster than your Nimbus 2001.”
“No way. Plus, you couldn’t control him like a broom.”
“Maybe not at first, but I bet he could be trained. Hmm, Quidditch with hippogriffs… it could be an entirely new sport.”
It was deeply disappointing to see Malfoy’s face scrunched up in disgust, looking exactly as he used to.
Maybe it’s a good thing, Harry thought, tearing his eyes away. I need to remember that he’s only going to be nice for tonight.
“You won’t catch me getting involved, big crazy chickens,” Malfoy said. Then, he added tentatively, “Was it really that cool, riding him?”
Although he was still irritated by Malfoy’s attitude, he couldn’t help smiling at the memory of riding Buckbeak. “It was amazing! Terrifying, of course, but once I felt comfortable, I could really enjoy the moment. It was similar to first riding a broom, that exhilarating feeling of living, seeing the world from a new perspective.”
Unable to resist, Harry closed his eyes for a moment and pictured it. “I remember him being so powerful, beating his wings hard enough to keep us in the air. His feathers were so soft, and his back was broad and comfortable. I’ll never forget the way we glided over the lake. I didn’t even have to hold on. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so… free.”
As he opened his eyes, he saw Malfoy gazing at him with such intensity that he flinched. They both cleared their throats and glanced away, staying quiet for several minutes. Harry’s stomach squirmed, and he hoped Malfoy thought of something else to talk about. He didn’t want to end their dance with such awkward tension.
“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?” Malfoy asked, still not meeting his eyes.
You were supposed to change the subject, Malfoy.
“I think I’m consistently mad at you for certain things,” Harry admitted bitterly. “You’ve proven tonight that you have the ability to be nice… you can even be fun. It doesn’t change the fact that you’ve hurt me and my friends so many times over the past three years. Who knows what your father will do to Hagrid and Buckbeak? I know you think Hagrid’s just a big oaf, but he means a lot to me. He gave me my first birthday cake and present when I was eleven.”
“What?” Malfoy asked sharply. “You never had a present or a cake until you were eleven? That doesn’t make sense.”
“Maybe not to you, considering you were raised in complete luxury. My family wasn’t poor, but they despised me. I was lucky to get my cousin’s hand-me-downs to wear. Do we have to keep talking about this?” Harry asked, feeling the prickle of hot tears in his eyes.
Malfoy was still gaping at him in shock, but seeing Harry’s discomfort, he quickly shook his head. “No, we don’t. I’m sorry,” he said softly. As they continued dancing, Harry felt him pull him in closer and even though he was still mad at him, he allowed it. Malfoy’s hand was warm and comforting as it slid onto his back and rubbed in small circles. “I am sorry,” Malfoy said more emphatically, “for all of it. Don’t worry, Harry, I’ll fix it.”
Harry wasn’t sure to which part he was referencing, but the only thing he could ask was, “How?”
“I don’t know,” Malfoy admitted and, as their eyes met, they both laughed softly, breaking the tension. “I’ll figure it out somehow. I promise.”
Harry hadn’t even realized how tightly wound he’d become until he finally relaxed. Malfoy released a long breath as if he’d been holding it, and Harry smiled up at him.
“Well, good luck. Hope you manage it.”
Malfoy snorted and tossed his hair. “Look who you’re talking to.”
“Yeah, I know exactly who I’m talking to,” Harry teased.
Before Malfoy could retort, Harry could hear the song winding down and instinctively pulled back from him so he could bow. Malfoy raised his eyebrows, impressed, and bowed back. He guided Harry back to him immediately and tucked Harry’s arm through his to lead them away from the dance floor. As he glanced back at Blaise and Pansy, however, Malfoy paused and groaned.
“I really don’t feel like joining those two right now.”
“Me either. Do you just want to keep dancing?”
Malfoy turned back to him, his face lighting up. “You want to?”
“Sure,” Harry said with a shrug as his face grew uncomfortably hot. “I’m not that tired.”
The orchestra was already strumming up to the next song and as they listened to it, Malfoy grimaced. “This is a new one for you though, and it’s quite complicated.”
“Would it be really humiliating then if I botched it up?”
A grin spread across Malfoy’s lips. “Maybe, but it could be hilarious. We should— Oh,” he said suddenly, his smile fading in an instant. His eyes were fixed elsewhere and as Harry followed his gaze, he saw a beautiful woman with long, blonde hair and a decadent midnight blue gown heading their way. Malfoy cleared his throat and began leading Harry in her direction. “The woman coming toward us, Potter, is my mother.”
“Oh!” Harry said and glanced at her again. “She’s very pretty.”
“Of course she is,” Malfoy said as if it had been an idiotic thing to say, and yet he still looked pleased by it. “It looks like she wants to speak to us. Do you mind?”
“No, I don’t… Is she going to hate me as much as your father does?”
Malfoy hummed, considering it carefully. “I guess we’ll find out. Be polite for once, okay?”
“I can be polite!”
“Shhh,” Malfoy hissed back before straightening up with a polite smile. “Mother! Did you come over here to meet my companion, or to make sure I was behaving myself?”
Although Narcissa Malfoy seemed as eloquent and self-important as her husband, the smile of adoration she gave her son was stunning. She shook her head and reached out to touch his cheek.
“Both, actually. You must be the famous Harry Potter,” she said, turning to Harry with appraising eyes.
“Guilty,” Harry replied and grinned as he heard Malfoy snicker next to him. Remembering his manners, however, he continued. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Malfoy.”
“The pleasure is all mine. Tell me, has my son been behaving himself?”
Harry felt Malfoy stiffen next to him, and the temptation to tease him was almost too much to resist. Casting a sly glance up at him, he leaned in closer to Narcissa.
“I never would have believed it, but he is!”
Malfoy glared at him, but they both turned toward Narcissa as she stifled a giggle.
“Well, I’m very pleased that you’re both getting along. As much as I hate to interrupt your dancing together, I was wondering if I might have a word with you in private, Mr. Potter?”
“What about?” Malfoy asked before Harry could say anything. He was grateful for it since he had no idea what to say. Narcissa seemed kinder than her husband, but Malfoy had also hinted that she could manipulate in subtle ways, and he wasn’t about to let his guard down around her. At the same time, however, it would be rude to say no.
“Don’t worry, dear,” Narcissa said, patting his cheek. “You won’t be the main subject of our conversation. Come along, Mr. Potter. I won’t bite.”
With that, she strolled away at a leisurely pace. Harry glanced frantically back at Malfoy, who was equally as confused as he was. Shaking his head, Malfoy gestured for him to go after her, so he hurried after her as fast as he could without actually running. He had a feeling that was also against etiquette, though there weren’t any blatant signs against running like a neighborhood pool.
Once he caught up with her, she smiled serenely and gestured toward a set of open doors that went out to a small garden.
“There are warming charms in place so it shouldn’t be cold.”
“That’s… nice.”
Harry grimaced at his awkwardness, but luckily Narcissa didn’t seem bothered by it. She had a teenage son of her own, after all, though Malfoy had an easier time conversing with people he didn’t know than he did.
“I am sure you’re surprised that I singled you out, but there is a delicate and personal matter that I wanted to discuss with you, and I didn’t want anyone else listening. Do you have any idea what I want to talk to you about?”
“Not a clue,” Harry admitted. “Just that Malf— I mean, Draco won’t be the main subject.”
“Yes, though I would like to thank you again for getting along so well with him tonight, despite not being very close at school. What I wanted to talk to you about is Sirius Black.”
Despite the warming charms, Harry felt as if he’d been dunked into a tub of ice. “Why do you want to talk about him?”
She had been wandering around the garden, admiring the flowers that were blooming regardless of the season, but she paused at his question and observed him carefully.
“From your tone, I suspect you know the circumstances of his arrest?”
“That he betrayed my parents and murdered their other friend and a bunch of other people? Yeah, I know it,” he said bitterly.
“I’m surprised someone told you that much.”
“It wasn’t for a lack of trying,” he sighed. “Everyone seems determined to keep most of my own life hidden from me. I overheard people talking about it though, which is how I found out.”
Narcissa hummed and came closer to him. “It is always difficult deciding how much to share with someone so young. There are many things about our past that we have not shared with Draco yet. Partly because he’s too young to understand, and also because we are not quite ready. It’s a delicate balance, however, because we do want to be truthful with him. I am sorry you discovered the truth of your situation in such a harsh way.”
It was difficult reining in his irritation, wishing that all the adults around him would be honest for once, but he could see her perspective as well. Although she may be an indulgent mother with Malfoy, Harry had the feeling that she wasn’t about to coddle him like his other parental figures.
“Can I ask why you’d bring him up, Mrs. Malfoy? Is it because you’re related to him?”
Her eyebrows rose as a slight smile played on her lips. “Did Draco tell you that?”
“He was just bringing up the fact that my own grandmother was a Black as you are, and that it’s a well-respected family. He didn’t think about the fact that I’d immediately connect the name to Sirius.”
“Well, you are correct. Sirius is my first cousin, though I’ve hardly had any connection to him since our days at Hogwarts. He was a few years behind me in school,” she explained, and as she took a deep breath, Harry realized that there was a lot more to the story that he hadn’t heard. “As I’m sure you’re aware, our family prided themselves on their pure-blood status and looked down on anyone who didn’t mean those qualifications. When my sister, Andromeda, fell in love with and married a muggleborn, she was cast out of the family forever. I haven’t seen or heard from her since.”
Harry’s breath hitched as he tried to imagine it. The only real family experience he’d ever had was from the Weasley’s, which was chaotic but warm and full of laughter. He couldn’t imagine Arthur or Molly turning their children out for loving a muggleborn. If anything, they’d probably become the instant favorite knowing how fascinated Arthur was by muggles.
“Do you miss her?” Harry asked, and Narcissa’s eyes widened at the question.
“I never really thought about it. I’m sure I did at first and, from time to time, I think about her and wish I could ask her advice on something. She was the middle child in my family, and she was sweeter and more patient than Bellatrix.” Her eyes wandered around the garden for a moment, her mind seeming far off. Then she shook her head and turned toward him.
“The reason I brought her up was because she was the first to be thrown out of our family in recent years. When Sirius was just a first year, he was sorted into Gryffindor, which was enough to give his mother a conniption,” she added with a smirk. “Then he befriended your father and some others who had more open-minded ideas on mixed bloods and muggleborns. It was only a matter of time before he fought so furiously with his parents that he ran away. He was ostracized from us after that and, as I understand it, he was taken in by the Potters.”
Harry released a long, shaky breath. So far, nothing she told him had made him feel better about the situation. Had he not known how the story ended, he would have been thrilled to find out such an important piece of his father’s history. Sensing his discomfort, Narcissa placed a calm hand on his arm.
“The reason I am bringing this up is because, to this day, I find it impossible to believe that he betrayed them.”
“What? But he—”
“I know what eyewitnesses have said,” she continued, “but it is possible that he was under the Imperius curse. You’ve heard of that before?”
“That’s the spell that controls people, I think. I don’t know much about it.”
“It is, and it’s one of the Unforgivable Curses, for obvious reasons. In my opinion, it was either that or he was framed somehow. Let me say this; I have absolutely no loyalty toward Sirius. Quite the opposite really.”
“Then why even bring it up?”
For a while, she stared at him in silence. Harry couldn’t gather anything from her impassive expression, but he waited, nonetheless. At last, she smiled, and Harry sensed the slightest whisper of motherly affection from it.
“I suppose it’s because I wanted to impart a lesson to you, one about life. In every event, there are a myriad of perspectives, and sometimes the truth is not very clear. And then, sometimes the purest form of truth comes from someone you wouldn’t easily believe.
“While I cannot say for certain that Sirius is innocent, I know that he would have burned in hell to protect your family. He gave up all the comfort, wealth, and reputation of his family for his ideals; it wouldn’t make sense for him to just turn around and betray it later on. Sirius was a wild, uncouth person, and not very intelligent, in my opinion,” she said flatly, “but he never struck me as a coward. Peter Pettigrew, on the other hand, was.”
“The one he murdered?” Harry asked, cocking his head.
“Potentially murdered,” Narcissa clarified. “All they found of him was a finger and, as much as I hate to admit this, I know that when someone is blown up, they leave behind more parts than that.”
Harry wrinkled his nose at the image. Her words, however, had conjured up a slew of new possibilities. A slight ray of hope glimmered that perhaps his godfather was a good person after all, but he closed that line of thought immediately. If he got his hopes up for that and then found out Sirius Black did betray his parents, it would kill him.
“It’s certainly something to think about,” Harry finally said, not wanting her to feel like the whole conversation was pointless.
Her smile was knowing as she gave his arm a squeeze. “You may find it confusing to hear my thoughts, and you certainly don’t have to take my word for it. Many of those you’re close to would even go so far as to call me your enemy. A wise person, however, takes all the information given to them and seeks out the truth themselves. You are very young, but that skill cannot be learned too early.
“Now, come,” she said, turning back to the doors. “Let’s give you back to Draco before he gets frantic. Speaking of which, it would be nice for you to be on friendlier terms from now on. He always wanted to be your friend, and I can see how much tonight has meant to him, though he’d never admit it.”
Harry couldn’t help grinning back at her. “That’s up to him. If he treats me and my friends well, then I’m more than willing to be his friend.”
“You could choose better friends,” she suggested off-handedly, and Harry was a second from biting her head off when he saw her teasing smile.
She’s testing me, he thought, and he took a deep breath to calm his temper.
“I’m sure you know enough about me, Mrs. Malfoy, to know that I don’t choose my friends based on blood status. What you may not know about me is that I never abandon my friends for anything.”
He raised his chin stubbornly and, to his surprise, she smiled wider at him, the expression softening all her features. It was the first time he thought that Malfoy may take after her more than his father.
“If that’s the case,” she said, casting a glance toward Draco and the others, “then I will trust you with him.”
“Trust me with him? You know I didn’t just ask you for his hand in marriage, right?”
She laughed abruptly and quickly clamped her hand over her mouth. It had been loud enough to capture Malfoy’s attention, but she avoided her son’s gaze as she cleared her throat.
“I only meant that we worry about him making the right kinds of friends, one who wouldn’t betray him. Unfortunately, in our circles…”
“Then perhaps you should choose better friends,” Harry teased, and he grinned widely as she tried hard not to smile. He thought it was a shame that she felt the need to hide it at all. The thought of Malfoy trying to stifle his real smile and lighter sense of humor was heartbreaking.
“I can see why my husband finds speaking to you so frustrating,” she finally replied with a twinkle in her eyes.
“But you don’t find it frustrating, do you, Mrs. Malfoy?”
“On the contrary, it’s been very amusing. A little too much, in fact. So, before I start laughing like a hyena in front of the illustrious guests of this ball, I will bid you good evening, Mr. Potter.”
“Good evening, Mrs. Malfoy,” Harry said with a cheeky smile and gave her a slight bow.
She swept away without another word, but he could hear a light chuckle above the music. Left to himself, Harry was left with his mind buzzing, more confused than ever about Sirius Black. Not only that, but he couldn’t believe that he could have a conversation with someone so adamant about blood status and still ended up liking her. More than that, it was refreshing to speak with someone who didn’t mince words and didn’t use them to upset him on purpose.
Catching Malfoy’s bewildered gaze from across the room, he quickly made his way over to him and the other two.
“What on earth did you two talk about?” Malfoy asked as soon as he was close enough. Blaise and Pansy kept quiet, but they seemed endlessly amused by Malfoy’s uneasy state. Harry understood their feeling well; the urge to tease him himself was insatiable.
“It’s, um, kind of private, actually,” he said, rubbing the back of his head.
Malfoy’s mouth dropped open like a dead fish, and it took every ounce of willpower not to burst out laughing. The other two had a harder time as they snickered to themselves.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means it’s none of your business. I will say this though; I may have a bit of a crush on your mum.”
As Malfoy’s eyes bulged out of his head, Harry quickly grabbed a glass from a passing tray and drank it down to cover up his smile.
“I know what you mean!” Pansy joined in with her eyes sparkling. “I don’t have a thing for older women, but Mrs. Malfoy!”
Blaise closed his eyes and hummed sensually. “I’ve often wondered if she’d like a sugar baby. I’m good-looking enough, for sure.”
“That’s for poor, good-looking people, Blaise,” Malfoy snapped. “And all of you, stop crushing on my mother!” As the three of them finally gave into their laughter, Malfoy gave Harry a cold look in particular and dusted off his robes. “Fine, if you’re all going to be like that, I’m going somewhere else.”
“Wait—” Harry said, grabbing his arm. He had only meant to tease Malfoy a little, but he could see that it had put him off enough to avoid him for the rest of the evening, and he didn’t want that. Frantic to salvage the situation, he gazed up at Malfoy with his biggest, most pleading eyes and said, “I thought you were going to dance with me again.”
Malfoy stared down at him, transfixed. He was so still, Harry didn’t think he was even breathing. The other two were suspiciously silent, but Harry ignored them, intent on not breaking the intense eye contact he had with Malfoy.
At last, Malfoy swallowed hard and blinked a few times. “You really want to?”
Harry smiled and squeezed his arm. “Of course. I never thought I’d have so much fun dancing.”
A furious blush spread across Malfoy’s cheeks. Harry had no idea what he’d said to affect him so greatly, but he was relieved. All the teasing about his mom seemed completely forgotten as Malfoy’s entire body seemed to melt under his touch.
“Then we better get to it,” Malfoy said, taking Harry’s hand from his arm and holding it tightly. He avoided looking at him as he began to lead them away, but Harry spied a little smile playing on Malfoy’s lips.
“Slytherin!” Blaise hissed behind him, and Harry glanced back at him over his shoulder.
I have no idea what you’re talking about, he mouthed back, and both Pansy and Blaise shook their heads.
The rest of the evening passed by in an enjoyable blur. He could hardly remember all the things he and Malfoy talked about as they danced, ranging from which classes they enjoyed most to other little tidbits about Harry’s heritage that he had no idea about. Malfoy was the only one he was dancing with by that time, and Harry wasn’t sure if it was because the other two had no interest in teaching him anymore or if they were simply encouraging his blossoming friendship with Malfoy. Either way, Harry was okay with it.
His exhaustion, however, was growing by the hour and he couldn’t have been more relieved when it was announced that the Hogwarts students were to congregate by the doors to return back to school. His stomach sank when the other three rushed off to say goodbye to their families, but he tried not to show his melancholy as he made his way to the doors alone. It helped that he was stopped many times by the other guests, bidding him good night and saying what an honor it was to meet him.
It was strange to wait with a few of the other students, knowing that he wouldn’t feel comfortable until he was joined by the other Slytherins. Normally, he would have avoided them like his life depended on it. It had been like that when they boarded the carriage earlier that very day. It felt as though his whole world had been flipped upside down.
“You look so tired,” Pansy said as she joined him, fixing her heavy fur-lined cloak around her. “Did the ball tucker you out, Harry?”
Harry laughed softly. “Definitely. I can’t wait to fall into bed.”
“Well, don’t fall asleep at least until we get into the carriage. I won’t be catching you if you fall.”
“Thanks, Pansy.”
“Draco probably would though,” she mused, “So, at least wait for him.”
“It’ll be a while,” Blaise said, joining them suddenly. “I just saw him with his parents, and their discussion looked serious.”
“What could they have to complain about now?” Pansy asked, looking irritated. “He behaved well tonight, and if they have a problem with him being friendly with Harry, they’re the ones who told him to be.”
“Well, there’s friendly, and there’s friendly,” Blaise stressed, giving Harry a sinful smile.
Rolling his eyes, Harry drew his own cloak closer around him. “I can’t speak for Mr. Malfoy, but I think Mrs. Malfoy would like us to be friends for real.”
“Did she say that while you were flirting with her?”
Harry laughed. “I didn’t actually flirt with her. I did tease her a little though, and I think she liked it.”
“I wish you were in Slytherin,” Pansy moaned. “It would be endlessly entertaining to see you and Draco constantly going back and forth. Maybe you can put in for a transfer?”
“Regardless of what you two believe, I am right where I should be.”
“I think the Sorting Hat would disagree,” Blaise said with a smug grin.
The urge to counter him with the fact that he’d pulled the Sword of Gryffindor from that same hat last year was insatiable, but it would be difficult to mention that without telling the whole story. At that point, they’d just call him a liar. He would if someone said they defeated the memory of Voldemort and his fully-grown basilisk when they were only twelve.
Suddenly, the rest of the Hogwarts students were heading out the doors to board the carriage. Harry frantically looked around for Malfoy, but he was nowhere to be seen.
“It’s alright,” Pansy said, nudging him. “They won’t leave without him.”
“Okay,” Harry sighed and followed the other two out the doors. They all lingered back at the end of the group, so it was more likely that Malfoy would get to sit with them on the way back. As they boarded, however, there was only space for two people on each side.
“We’ll go over here,” Pansy said, pulling Blaise to the right side.
Blaise snorted, but he let Pansy drag him to the last remaining seats on that end. Harry nodded and sat on the other side, hoping there was enough room for Malfoy. It was going to be a tight fit. As the minutes crept by, the other students began grumbling about the wait and the cold, and Harry began to worry again. He couldn’t imagine what his parents— or more likely, his father— would be lecturing Malfoy about for so long.
His breath hitched as Malfoy suddenly jumped inside, tugging his overcoat around him. He rolled his eyes as the older students jeered at him and then looked around, seeing Pansy and Blaise first. Pansy gave him a wide cat-like grin and pointed at Harry. As Malfoy turned, Harry scooted a little closer to the girl next to him and showed him the empty spot.
Malfoy brightened immediately and launched himself into the seat. It was fortunate that he was slender, or he would have landed himself hard in Harry’s lap.
“Sorry about the hold up,” Malfoy whispered in his ear, and Harry suppressed a shiver.
“It’s fine… Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
“It’s just that Blaise said it looked like you were getting lectured. I didn’t get you in trouble, did I?” Harry asked, gazing up at him worriedly.
For a moment, Malfoy didn’t answer as he stared back at him. It almost seemed like he’d stopped breathing again, and Harry was beginning to wonder if he had some sort of condition. As the carriage lurched forward, however, it shook them out of the moment and Malfoy gave him a half smile.
“You didn’t. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, just… just a conversation we needed to have. Don’t worry about it,” he said gently, nudging him with his elbow. “Merlin, it’s a tight squeeze in here, isn’t it? I swear we had more room on the way.”
Harry smirked. “It’s probably because everyone stuffed themselves with treats tonight.”
“That’s very likely. Hey, um, I can probably give us a little more room if I just—” he began, twisting toward Harry and lifting his arm. Immediately, Harry felt like he could breathe a little better, but Malfoy had no place to put his arm, holding it up awkwardly.
“Just put it around me,” Harry said, and Malfoy raised his eyebrows.
“You wouldn’t mind?”
“You’ve had your arms around me all evening.”
“That was while dancing!” Malfoy whispered furiously, but Harry just sighed and tugged Draco’s arm over his shoulder.
“It’s not a big deal. That’s better, right?”
Malfoy swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah, it’s alright.”
Harry sighed and tried relaxing against him, but he realized that it was an intimate position, not one that two blokes typically found themselves in unless they were drunk or in a relationship. It was a lot warmer and infinitely more comfortable, however, so Harry smiled back up at Malfoy and changed the subject.
“Did you have fun tonight?”
Malfoy beamed and finally stopped being so stiff. “I did have fun, even more than usual. What about you?”
“I did, too. The food was delicious, but I think I enjoyed the dancing more than anything. Isn’t that funny?”
“I told you it wasn’t so bad, though I suppose it depends on your partner,” he added with an expectant look.
Harry nodded and said, “It’s true… I hope next time I can get a better one.” As Malfoy glared at him and started to pull away, Harry laughed and held onto the front of his dress robes, keeping him in place. “I’m just kidding! You were a very good partner.”
“I should hope so. You should pity me, having to dance with someone so inexperienced all evening.”
“You liked it,” Harry murmured as he nestled a bit closer to him. “I do feel like I owe you a lot though, showing me how to act posh.”
Malfoy snickered and leaned in a little closer. “Feel free to return the favor. I’ve always wanted to know how to act like a peasant.”
Not wanting to give into the bait, Harry gave him a sly smile. “Or I could teach you muggle things.” He laughed as Malfoy gave him an incredulous stare.
“No, thank you.”
“You have no idea what you’re missing.”
“Muggles don’t have magic. What on earth could I be missing?”
“Television, movies, stereos, computers. I actually think you’d love all of those if you experienced them.”
While he still looked skeptical, Malfoy leaned his head back and said, “So, tell me about them.”
Smiling, Harry tried his best describing each of the muggle devices, hoping something he said would give Malfoy a more unbiased opinion about muggles and their ingenuity. He had only just begun describing what movies were as opposed to television when he felt his eyes growing heavier. Malfoy, who had been listening intently, squeezed him closer.
“It’s alright, Potter. You can tell me more later. Shut your eyes.”
Harry gave in and immediately felt his consciousness drifting. His last thoughts were of how impossibly comfortable he was, snuggled against Malfoy’s body, and how good he smelled. He had no idea what he smelled like, but he wished it was that nice.
—
He stirred as someone murmured his name into his ear. Groaning, he tried burying himself in the surrounding warmth. As he slowly woke up, he realized he was pressing his face against someone’s chest and their poor heart was going wild, thudding rapidly against Harry’s ear. He gasped and pulled back, but there was still nowhere to go.
“I’m sorry,” he said, feeling like he could drown in mortification.
Malfoy looked equally embarrassed, but he managed to smile and shook his head. “It’s fine. You’re just sleepy.”
Harry relaxed, but he could still feel two pairs of eyes watching him like hawks from across the carriage. “The others saw me doing that, didn’t they?”
“Yeah, they pretty much watched you cuddling with me the entire trip.”
“Why?” Harry asked, trying hard not to look at them.
Malfoy’s eyes were soft as he smiled down at him. “Because they think you’re cute.”
Harry wrinkled his nose. “I’m not cute.” As he watched Malfoy’s smile widen, he glared at him. “I’m not.”
“Right… not at all,” Malfoy mumbled and glanced away. “I woke you up because we’re back, just pulling up now.”
“Oh,” Harry said, realizing that they weren’t even in the air anymore.
A minute later, the carriage stopped and the doors opened, revealing the large courtyard in front of Hogwarts. Malfoy slipped his arm away as he began to stand, and Harry shivered from the wave of cold air that swept over him. Before Malfoy moved away, he took Harry’s hand and helped him up as well, for which he was grateful. His head still felt fuzzy with sleep.
Malfoy guided him down the steps and kept holding his hand as they began the walk up to the front doors. Harry groaned from the cold and pressed himself against Malfoy’s side.
“Are you still holding hands?” Blaise asked quietly, and Malfoy quickly shushed him.
“Leave us alone; he’s a sleepy boy.”
“Aww, the little lamb,” Pansy cooed, patting Harry’s arm. “All tuckered out. Are you bringing him to bed with you then, Draco?”
“Shut up.”
Harry’s cheeks grew hot as the other two snickered and kept pretending to be too sleepy to hear. As they drifted into the castle, hearing their voices and footsteps echo in the empty corridors, a sense of dread began to settle in the pit of Harry’s stomach. Malfoy had promised to be kind to him at the ball, but now they were back. The thought of Malfoy going back to his cruel ways and hating him was unbearable.
Had he been alone at that moment, he may have even cried but, for as long as he could, he wanted to savor the way Malfoy kept a protective hold on his hand and allowed Harry to lean against him. It stroked a deep, unspoken yearning within him, the desire to be looked after and cared for. It wasn’t anything he’d ever wanted from his other friends, and he wondered why this thing with Malfoy felt so different.
Suddenly, he sensed them heading down a staircase that wasn’t familiar. He stopped and immediately, Malfoy turned toward him, looking worried.
Harry nervously raked his hand through his hair and said, “Um, I need to go the other way.”
“Oh! Right,” Malfoy said, finally letting go of Harry’s hand. His throat bobbed as he gazed back up at Harry. “Are you going to be okay getting back?”
Harry gave him a lopsided grin. “I’ll be fine. I’m more awake now.”
“See you tomorrow, Harry,” Blaise said, giving him a wink before turning away.
“Night, Blaise.”
“Get some beauty sleep!” Pansy said as she descended after Blaise. “You’re going to need it for classes tomorrow.”
“I will. Thanks, Pansy,” Harry said as his eyes drifted back to Malfoy who seemed just as reluctant to leave as he did. “Um, can I talk to you for a second?”
Malfoy’s eyes widened a fraction. “Yeah, of course.” Glancing back over his shoulder, he said, “Go on, I’ll catch up with you guys.”
They both waited until Blaise and Pansy and their matching grins had drifted out of earshot. As Malfoy turned back to him, Harry could sense a lot of nervous energy radiating around him, and his cheeks were tinted pink.
“What did you want to talk about?” he asked, finally meeting Harry’s gaze.
Harry felt his own nerves squirming in his stomach as he licked his lips. “I had so much fun tonight.”
Malfoy smiled warmly. “I did, too. Who would have thought, huh?” he joked, running a hand through his light hair.
“I know… Do you think we could keep doing it?”
“Doing what?”
Harry looked down as he played with the cuff of his coat. “Being friends, but for real.”
Malfoy’s eyes grew large and hopeful as he hopped onto the next step closer to Harry. “Yeah! I really want to.”
“Great!” Harry said, beaming at him. “Oh, but you can’t be mean to my friends anymore, especially Hermione.” As Malfoy began to deflate a little, Harry shook his head and reached down, grasping Malfoy’s arm. “I mean it. She’s one of my closest friends, and the names you call her cut her so deeply. If you call her a mudblood again, that’s it.”
“Okay, okay,” Malfoy said, holding up his hands. “I promise I won’t call her that anymore.”
“And can you be nicer to Neville, too?”
Malfoy hung his head and groaned. “Ugh, Potter, you’re killing me!”
“Harry,” he said gently, giving his arm a squeeze. “You can call me Harry now.” As Malfoy quieted and gazed back up at him, Harry gave him his large, pleading eyes again.
Whining, Malfoy squeezed his eyes shut. “Fine, I’ll be nicer to Longbottom, no matter how pathetic he is.” Then his eyes opened and with a small smile, he added, “Harry.”
Harry beamed back at him and was tempted to throw his arms around him. Instead, he cleared his throat and held out his hand.
“Friends?”
For a moment, Malfoy— no, Draco stared at his hand in wonder. Slowly, he reached out and took it, shaking it gently.
“Friends,” he replied softly. Even after they stopped shaking, Draco held onto his hand, staring intently at it. Harry wasn’t particularly bothered by it but as Draco met his gaze with darkened gray eyes, his stomach began doing somersaults. When Draco brought his hand up to his lips and kissed it, Harry’s heart was beating so fast, he thought he was going to die.
His emotions must have read all over his face going by the little smirk on Draco’s lips as he pulled back finally, still holding Harry’s hand in his.
Harry frowned and glanced away. “You can be charming when you want to be.”
“I told you I could be. Goodnight, Harry,” he said with twinkling eyes.
With a reluctant smile, Harry mumbled, “Goodnight, Draco.”
Draco’s smile stretched even wider, and he squeezed Harry’s hand before releasing it finally. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he turned around in a flourish and skipped down the stairs. Harry watched him for a moment and giggled as he heard Draco humming a cheerful tune.
Cute.
Harry nearly tripped up the stairs as he rushed back to Gryffindor Tower, his cheeks hurting from smiling so much. He was beyond exhausted, and his muscles screamed with every step he took, but he felt lighter than air. The only worry he had was whatever he would tell Ron and Hermione tomorrow, but he didn’t let it dampen his spirits. Despite everything going on in the world, he felt like that moment was a turning point for everything. If he and Draco Malfoy could become friends, then nothing was impossible.