A/N: Written for the Quidditch League (I will update Dark Wizards soon! I have nearly finished all my assignments...)
BEATER 1: Write about your OTP being negatively received by the other family members.
1. (dialogue) "What have I done this time?"
7. (quote) 'If you search for imperfections, you'll find them' - Jose Enincas
11. (narrative device) flashback
Draco was dreaming. It was a good dream.
He walked slowly down the corridor at Hogwarts, his feet leading him without his mind really paying attention. He knew, vaguely, that he was going to the owlery. And he knew, vaguely, that he was going to send a letter to his father. But he was moving automatically, his head full of the words he had written a hundred times over.
I will not be manipulated anymore.
How can you possibly think it is worth continuing this game?
I have been given a second chance, an eighth year at Hogwarts to earn my NEWTS.
I am glad the Dark Lord lost.
It was all there on the parchment. But just as Draco reached the owlery, he realised he was not alone. His resolve faltered. Maybe he could send the letter another night, when he could think about it in peace and make sure it really was the right thing to do. After all, he had come up here so many times already, letter clutched in hand, reading and re-reading the words aloud until he was sure he had them right. He never quite did have them right. Another night of waiting wouldn't hurt. Harry Potter turned around from where he stood, silhouetted by the moonlight that slipped through the open window. Draco quickly arranged his face into an easy sneer and continued walking to the boy – no, man – who had defeated the one wizard who had terrified Draco even more than his father. "Sending love letters to the she-weasel, are we, Potter?" Draco shot with a smirk, ignoring the burning sensation he felt on his skin whenever he remembered the touch of Potter's hand in his own, as if it had been Potter's hand on fire instead of everything else. Potter didn't say anything, which was unlike him. Draco paused. Without insults standing between them, it was just he and Potter at night. Alone. Draco took a small step backward. "Actually, I was thinking of Hedwig," Potter said with a sigh, leaning back on the window frame. "Your owl?" Draco asked without thinking. Potter raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You knew the name of my owl?" Draco shrugged quickly, aloof. "It was a stupid name. It stuck in my mind." Potter's expression changed to anger. He pushed off from the wall and began to walk away. "Wait," Draco said before he could stop himself. He had noticed the elegant snowy owl hadn't come back to Hogwarts with Potter. "She was a beautiful owl," he said in as conciliatory a tone as he could manage without choking on the words. Draco didn't want to ask how she died. Somehow, he didn't think Potter would be hiding out in an owlery at midnight if she'd passed peacefully into the land of owl-treats and eternal petting. Potter stopped walking. "I come up here most nights," he said quietly. Draco frowned. He came up here most nights as well, but he had never seen Potter. "I usually sit by the wall," Potter continued, pointing to a spot partially concealed by perches. No wonder Draco had never seen him. Suddenly, Draco realised what that meant. All the nights he had read and re-read his letter aloud. He whipped his head up and stared at Potter, his face drained of colour. "You should send it," Potter said quietly. Draco opened his mouth to say something sharp and cutting, but nothing came out. Potter could have sat in his usual place tonight and Draco would never have seen him. Instead, Potter had waited for him. Draco held out his hand, the letter clasped tightly between his fingers. "Send it for me?" he asked, before his brain caught up with his mouth. Potter jolted in shock and stared at Draco. After a long pause, he reached out and took the letter.
It was a good dream. A dream where Draco began a new kind of relationship with Potter that, for once, wasn't built on anger. A dream where Draco was finally free of the machinations of his father, and could think for himself. A dream that couldn't possibly be a reality.
Draco rolled over and stretched out his arm. His hand hit something warm and solid and his arm moved reflexively to embrace the familiar body. Draco opened his eyes and saw Harry Potter's sleeping face mere inches from his own. Reality came flooding back and he smiled, pulling his fiancé closer.
Harry muttered something sleepily.
"I couldn't hear a word of that, you git," Draco said lightly. "Enunciate."
"I said," Harry said slowly, smiling with his eyes still closed. "What on earth has got you so grabby this morning?"
"I had a good dream," Draco said, resting his forehead against Harry's. "About the night everything changed. Remember?"
Harry's eyes opened slowly, piercing green though his face was still soft from sleep. "You mean when you finally found me alone in the Quidditch change rooms and-"
Draco smacked him on the arm. "No, you idiot. The owlery when-"
Harry silenced him with a kiss. "Of course I remember, you twit," he said. "But let's not remember too much, or we'll never be ready in time."
Draco suddenly paled. "Oh, Merlin, I forgot." He sat up straight, running his hands through his hair in a panic. "This was a stupid idea. What were we thinking?"
Harry sat up and ran his hand soothingly over his partner's back. "That for one day our families will overlook their differences and come together to celebrate our engagement. And they will. Because they love us."
Harry hid another smile as Draco put his head in his hands, ever dramatic. "No they won't! Just because my father stopped scheming for me doesn't mean he's going to play happy families. He hates you! I can't believe he even said 'yes' to coming today. I only invited him because I thought he'd refuse. Or send a howler. Or anything else that would be infinitely easier than him coming and sitting at a dinner table with the Weasleys." Draco's head snapped up and he stared forward mournfully. "I mean, do they even use a dinner table?" he asked suddenly, turning back to Harry. "What are their manners like? I can't believe I never asked this before. Do they know the difference between a salad fork and a cold cuts fork?"
"No," Harry said firmly. "Which is why we went with finger food. Remember?"
"Oh, Merlin, we did too!" Draco said, turning away and tearing at his hair again. "That means they're going to be all greasy and messy, and father's going to judge them and judge you because you're going be all greasy and messy too. And, I mean, I like you like that, but he certainly won't, and-"
"Draco," Harry said quietly. Draco stopped and looked at Harry beseechingly. "Shut up."
Draco's expression changed instantly, snapping into a haughty glare. The corner of Harry's mouth twitched, but he was otherwise still.
"Well, if that's how little you care about our engagement party going well," Draco said, raising his eyebrow slightly, "perhaps we should call the whole thing off."
Harry's mouth twitched again. Before Draco knew what was happening, Harry was lying back on the bed, laughing hysterically.
Draco sniffed. "You look ridiculous when you get like this," he said tightly, refusing to look at the mess of hysteria that was his boyfriend.
"You should see your face," Harry said between fits of laughter. "I'll never get tired of that look you get. It's as if you've been personally insulted."
"I have been personally insulted," Draco muttered, but his own mouth was beginning to twitch as well. "Fine," he said, turning and throwing a pillow at Harry. "It will be fine. Let's get ready."
Harry's laughter finally slowed. He sat up and wiped is hand across his eyes. "Alright, let's do it," his face turned serious. "And I'm really sorry if Ron's family isn't, you know..."
Draco gave a dismissive wave of his hand. The Weasleys had never really warmed to him, but he had come to appreciate their cool indifference as the most welcome he would receive. At least it wasn't the open hatred his father showed Harry.
They began to get ready for the day, although Draco was by no means relaxed. He just had to console himself that if it all went horribly, disastrously wrong – which it was bound to do – at least he had a plan.
***
Draco stared in horror at the scene unfolding before him. Red hair, as far as the eye could see, all bobbing and swaying in time with Celestina Warbeck. They were even singing, if you could call it that, and the ground was littered with the remnants of expensive canapés. Everyone was having a wonderful time.
It was a disaster. He needed to fix it before his parents arrived. Did these people have no sense of propriety?
The sharp crack of his father apparating beside the grand tent they had assembled in a local park sounded like a death knell. The sight of Harry across the dance floor giving him a soothing wink only made him panic faster. Why had he invited his parents? They had never accepted Harry and they never would. Why had they even said yes?
He looked up to see his father walking purposefully toward him.
"Where is he?" Lucius asked quietly.
"Lucius," Harry said, suddenly appearing beside Draco and holding out his hand.
Lucius took his time assessing the outstretched hand. Finally, he reached out and clasped it with the tips of his fingers.
"Mr. Potter," he said with a small grimace. "I do hope I'm not expected to call you 'son'."
"Only if I don't have to call you 'father'," Harry said promptly, grabbing onto Lucius' hand hard enough to hurt.
Out of the corner of his eye, Draco caught sight of his mother wrinkling her nose at the colour of the tablecloths. Through sheer willpower, Draco managed to prevent himself from sinking to his knees and holding his head in his hands. He took a deep breath and decided there was absolutely no way they were going to make it through the afternoon without help. Lots of help.
Very carefully, he slipped his hand into his pocket and squeezed the small, block-shaped object hidden inside. He held his breath against the delicious scent of grapes that he knew was rising from his pocket, and hoped Harry didn't breathe in too deeply. For several long seconds, nothing happened. Draco watched his father's face closely. There was a small twitch, almost like another grimace, and then Lucius smiled. Draco let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. Everything was going to be okay.
"Why don't you join mother in a dance?" Draco suggested quietly.
Lucius turned to him, his eyes oddly unfocused. Draco frowned. That wasn't meant to happen. Lucius grinned – actually grinned – and turned to stride over to Narcissa. Draco noted somewhat deliriously that the twirl of his robes would have done Professor Snape proud.
Draco turned sheepishly to Harry, wondering how much of an explanation he would need to give. Instead, he found Harry looking strangely guilty.
Draco frowned. "What-"
The sound of strangled laughter stopped Draco mid-sentence. He turned to see his father engaging in a complicated dance move with his mother in the middle of what had been a crowd of energetic Weasleys. Now the only people moving were the two blondes in the centre; everyone else was frozen in shock.
"Draco, sweetheart!" His mother called out, tilting her head back as she spun until she was almost upside down. "Put on that rock group you love. The Strange Sisters."
Draco's jaw dropped. His mother would never mention the Weird Sisters outside of the family home. And even then it was only when she had consumed a little more than her usual two wines with dinner...
Draco took the eraser out of his pocket and stared at it. The spell should never have reached his mother. No matter how strong Weasley's Wizard Wheezes products were – and how clever, Draco had to begrudgingly admit – they simply weren't designed to affect someone across the other side of the room. The Inebriating Eraser should only have made the closest wizards and witches feel drunk. Which meant...
Draco looked up to see Ginny Weasley across the other side of the room, staring at a small object in her hand with a look of amused regret.
"Oh no," he muttered, turning to Harry. "Harry, I might have done something a little-" He stopped. Harry had his hand held out in front of him, an innocuous eraser resting in his palm and a look of dawning comprehension on his face.
"Stupid," Draco finished lamely.
"Me too," Harry agreed.
"Oh, bollocks," Draco heard someone mutter from behind them. Harry and Draco turned around to see George staring at their outstretched hands. Sheepishly, he pulled an Inebriating Eraser from his pocket. "Sorry, Malfoy," he said, not looking sorry at all. "I just thought your father could do with loosening up a little."
"Great minds think alike," Draco said weakly.
They turned back to the dancefloor, where it was now apparent that several party-goers had either been within smelling distance of the erasers, or were simply finding the Malfoy's suddenly festive demeanour infectious. Draco watched in horror as Lucius bowed to Fleur and swung her gracefully into a lively foxtrot.
"It was only meant to relax him," Draco moaned. "How strong are these? If he's been hit by four of them-" Draco trailed off.
"Four?" George asked frowning.
Draco pointed to Ginny, who was laughing hysterically at the sight of Narcissa Malfoy attempting a rigorous box step in spite of her four inch heels.
Draco gave up on dignity and dropped his head into his hands. At the sound of Harry's quiet cough, he looked up to see Arthur Weasley stepping forward and waving his wand with a quiet "Finite". Arthur had seen too many joke shop products to not recognise this for what it was.
Lucius and Narcissa looked as though cold water had been thrown over them. The sight of his mother pausing, robes held gracefully at shin height, in the midst of a box-step kick would have had him in hysterics if it wasn't horribly clear that he had ruined everything.
He stepped forward before anyone else could, but found he didn't know what to say.
His mother spoke first. "What have I done this time, Draco, sweetheart?" she asked quietly, smoothing down her robes. "To be greeted with such humiliation and disrespect?"
Draco bristled. "It wasn't intended as disrespect, mother," he said quietly. It was so like his mother, to make it all about her. "I was merely trying to quieten your obvious dislike for my choice of husband."
His father raised one eyebrow. "You engage in a stunt so completely against your character – so obviously influenced by your choice of husband – and in doing so completely humiliate your own blood, and you still look for our approval?"
"Listen to your father, Draco," his mother continued. "If you expect approval, perhaps you should make decisions that are possible to approve."
"If you search for imperfections, you'll find them," Draco said through gritted teeth. "Perhaps you could make the effort to see beyond what you always deem to be a failure. Why did you even come, if this was all you were going to say?"
Lucius stood taller. "One does not turn one's back on one's family," he said, quiet enough for only Draco to hear. With a sharp crack, he was gone, followed closely by Narcissa.
"I'm sorry, dear," Molly Weasley's voice broke the silence. "I'm sure they'll come around."
Draco looked up in shock. He was sure this was the first time Mrs Weasley had addressed him directly. He supposed that if she hadn't heard his father's parting words, it must have looked as though his family had abandoned him. Arthur Weasley walked over and clapped him awkwardly on the back. In the background, someone signalled for the music to resume, and people forced themselves to begin dancing again.
Draco almost laughed. So, all it took was being abandoned by his family, and he was suddenly welcome?
That was a strange thought. Maybe they had assumed he was just like his father, and he had only needed to prove to them that he could stand separately. When, really, since the start of his relationship with Harry he had been pushing his parents further and further away.
Which made him wonder, was his mother right? Had he been humiliating his parents all along, and giving them no real opportunity to see his relationship as anything more than a slap in their face? Should he give them another chance?
He sighed. What was it he had said to them? If you search for imperfections, you'll find them. Maybe he should stop searching. He couldn't help but still love his parents, after all. He turned to Harry, only to find green eyes already watching him carefully.
"You should tell them," Harry said quietly. "They obviously love you no matter what. They don't need to love me too."
At that, Draco frowned. "Yes they do," he said, holding out his hand to Harry. He smiled as Harry looked at it, a confused expression on his face. "Tell them with me?" Draco asked.
After a long pause, Harry smiled and reached out to take Draco's hand.