Harry Potter was not happy. He had riches. He had fans, hundreds and hundreds of fans, but he was not happy. It was simply because Harry did not like being Harry Potter "The Boy Who Lived" or Harry Potter "Savior of the Wizarding World." He liked being Harry, just Harry.
He liked sleeping in on a Saturday and he liked playing quidditch, Seeker to be exact. He liked eating dinner at the Weasley's because he would always leave with a massive stomach ache, but the good kind. He liked going to Fred and George's shop (they still called it Fred and George's shop because it would always be their shop) as it made him feel like a kid again. He was still amazed every time he tapped open the brick wall into Diagon Alley and he was still astonished by all the smells, and sounds, and sights.
Harry knew that he had defeated Voldemort when he was seventeen years old and had an Order of Merlin (first class), and he knew that it was a big deal, but he felt that he had already received all the recognition and reward that he needed, enough for a lifetime. Harry Potter, according to Harry, was not anyone special; he was just plain old Harry.
No one else, however, seemed to have the same notion. In fact, not even Ron or Hermione, sympathized with him. Hermione constantly nagged Harry about his public image, how he should "comb his hair more" and "wear nicer clothing." Ron tried to use Harry's influence for himself, not saying that Ron doesn't have any influence, but sometimes he needed influence on the Harry Potter level for things like World Cup tickets with seats in a private box… with the Minister… and passes to the team locker room. And as much as Harry loved his best friends, they got tiring.
They knew everything about Harry from his favorite color (Gryffindor Red) to what he had seen in the Mirror of Erised in his first year. They knew that Harry did not like the attention that the media gave him, but they saw it as something that cannot be helped, and according to them, if he couldn't stop it, might as well use it.
The rest of the Weasleys didn't understand his complaints either. George used Harry to bring more publicity to Weasley Wizard Wheezes, and as much as Harry loved to support his family, he did not feel comfortable posing for pictures in front of the shop and it really did nothing to help his point.
Ginny did nothing to help him, she just laughed at his expense. One particularly terrifying incident of this was a month or two after the war, and the Harry Hero worship, as Ginny liked to call it, was at its peak. He was featured in every issue of the Daily Prophet and he was terrified of leaving his house, but one day he decided to leave the house and visit the George's shop thinking that the media would not be too bad. The media was not bad, in fact there was not one reporter in Diagon Alley, but it seemed that the Harry Potter fan club had decided to go out for tea that faithful afternoon because on his way home he encountered a mob for screaming teenage girls crying over the fact that he was ONLY five meters away. They then proceeded to chase him down Diagon Alley while Ginny watched from the sidelines, laughing until she started to choke. She still laughs about it today.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were no help either because every time he talked to them about it them would just nod and say," I'm so sorry dear, but there really is nothing we can do, now is there." And though they brought up a valid point, Harry simply did not want to "deal with it"; he had dealt with enough things in his lifetime, thank you very much, but Harry did not know what to do, so he let the fangirls fangirl and he left the paparazzi to paparazzi-ing.
It was now two years after the war, and today Harry was not on featured in the Gossip Tabloid as he usually was. Instead, today Draco Malfoy was being covered and his return from France. After the war and the trials that followed (during which he was pardoned) he left England and set up residence in France. Today was the day that he was supposedly returning, but Harry had no idea of this recent development as he had cancelled is subscription to the Daily Prophet a long, long time ago.
To say Harry was shocked when he saw Malfoy strolling Diagon Alley as he had always been in England was an understatement, in fact he was completely flabbergasted; he was so flabbergasted that he literary stopped walking and gawked at Malfoy as he passed.
"Potter, I know that you have not been graced with my company for two years, but standing there like a flobberworm does nothing to inspire me to spend time with you. You creating quite a scene here, so if there is something you would like to express, I recommend you do it quickly." Malfoy was now standing in front Harry, sneering.
"What…what are you doing here?" Harry managed to stutter out.
"Leave it to you to not keep up with the news. I had an interview with the Daily Prophet just yesterday; I would imagine that it is in today's paper."
"I am no longer subscribed to the Daily Prophet, so excuse me if I am not aware of your gallivanting. I ask once again- what are you doing in England." Harry was regaining his posture and falling back on to the reliable "Malfoy is my enemy" façade. However, if Harry was to be completely honest, Malfoy was looking rather fit. His skin looked healthy and tan as if he spent all day in the sun instead of working- which he probably was, but he also had gained muscle and height during his escape to France. Harry now had to tilt his head back to see Malfoy's face.
He was wearing an extremely expensive looking, white, silk shirt and black pants. He was also wearing a black clock with an emerald green trim (don't ask Harry how he knew what "emerald" green was). In short, he looked incredibly good and incredibly intimidating.
"I missed home, Potter. France was wonderful, but I wanted to come home." Harry stared at Malfoy shocked; he hadn't expected a genuine respond and it threw Harry for the loop. "Now if you will excuse me, I have more important things to do than associate myself with people like you." Malfoy turned and walked down the road, cloak billowing behind him in a true Severus Snape fashion.
Harry stood in his place, staring at the stop Malfoy had once occupied. People around him gossiped about the encounter, but Harry just stood there, gaping.
"Did you know that Malfoy has come back?" Harry questioned Hermione later than evening over wine.
"Yes, of course. It was all over the Prophet, Harry. Lots of people were talking about it, why?"
"Well, while you knew about his return, I did not, so you can imagine my shock when I stumbled across Malfoy today in Diagon Alley on my way to Gringotts, then he decided to start a conversation with me, which he very rudely exited, if I might say. It was completely embarrassing. I couldn't speak, I was so surprised and then when he left, I just stood there like an idiot. I can see the paper tomorrow, Harry Potter Shocked Silent by Draco Malfoy. Why did he have to come back?" Harry moaned.
"It could not have been that bad," Hermione consoled. "I know it was embarrassing, but you have suffered from worse. It will be okay, you will get through this scandal, just as you have through all the others. And you can't question his reasons to come back, Harry, he has just as much right to be here in England as you do."
"He told me that he missed home. That seems awfully sentimental to tell your enemy, doesn't it?"
"No, Harry, it doesn't. It seems like a completely normal thing to me. Don't go back to sixth year, Harry. Please don't start stalking Draco Malfoy. Just leave him alone, your paranoia regarding Malfoy brings nothing good. "
"But Hermione-," Harry whined.
"No! No buts. He has done nothing wrong. He was pardoned; you testified for him yourself."
"Fine…Can I have some more wine?"
"Yes," Hermione sighed.
A few days later, Harry walked through the Ministry hallways on his way to his weekly tea with the Minister. He rather liked Minister Shacklebolt, so every week he plucked up the courage to enter the Ministry of Magic and drink tea with the Minister. Harry entered the elevator, pressed the button that would led him to Minister's office (8AD), and settled back for the ride before his saw-
"Malfoy! What are you doing here?"
"Potter, if we are going to go through the same conversation every time we cross paths, I would rather we didn't speak to each other," Malfoy drawled.
"I meant what are you doing in the Ministry?"
"I see no reason to divulge all of my personal information to you of all people, Potter, but since you are so insistent, I am here regarding the Manor."
"Oh."
"Once again, your eloquence astounds me," and with that Malfoy left the elevator, leaving Harry dumbfounded again. He shook his head and left the elevator as well, off to his tea with the Minister of Magic.
Today was Saturday and Harry lay in bed contemplating why he was always speechless when he saw Malfoy. It couldn't be because Harry was scared of Malfoy or intimidated by him; Harry had faced much worse creatures in his past and there was no reason for him to be scared of Malfoy. It also couldn't be because he was still shocked by his arrival. Harry could have gotten away with it the first time, but the second time he had no cause to be shocked to silence.
Then it came to Harry, the reason Harry was shaken around Malfoy was because he was the first person Harry had encountered in two years that was rude to Harry. For the past two years, the people he interacted with could be placed into three categories: friends and family, the people who were not close to him but friendly and the people who worshiped the group he walked on. Now the Draco Malfoy was here, he has a whole new category, and over the past two years Harry had forgotten how to deal with this category.
Satisfied that he had found the root cause of his unusual behavior, Harry rolled out of bed and took a shower. After a particularly enjoyable shower, Harry went downstairs to his kitchen. Harry now lived in a house very close to Hermione and Ron in the outskirts of London. He could walk to the Leaky Caldron if he wished to, but he was far enough away that he had privacy. Harry made himself a cup of coffee (he preferred to drink coffee in the morning over tea) and a piece of toast. He sat down at the dining table and picked up the letters that were sitting there from yesterday morning and this morning.
He quickly shuffled through them all. Organization… fans… organization… Gringotts- he set this one to the side… ministry… George- he set this aside as well… Draco Malfoy… Harry dropped the rest of the letter in surprise. Why would Draco Malfoy be sending him a letter? What could he possibly want? Harry quickly scanned it with his wand to make sure the letter was not cursed- you can never be too careful- and when it came out clear, he opened it.
The Malfoy Family
Invites Harry Potter
To the Children's Village Gala
At Malfoy Manor
October 18th
For Dinner and Dance
The invitation was printed on very heavy and fancy parchment. In the envelope, there was also a letter written on the same kind of parchment from Malfoy to him personally.
Hello Potter,
I have decided to invite to this gala with much thought. It was not an easy decision, but I feel that you will benefit the cause I am trying to support which is a charity that opens orphanages across Europe. It is called Children's Village. I feel that you will shed some positive light on the cause and the gala. I understand that you probably do not like being used as publicity tool, but trust me; you are the last person I want to ask for help from. However, this charity and I need you to make the gala successful. I am not asking you to make a speech nor do I plan to put a spotlight on your, I just ask you to attend. As much as it pains me to say this, please attend this gala. Do it for the children, at least. However, I am asking for you personally; please do not bring the weasel and the bookworm with you.
Sincerely,
Draco Malfoy
Harry put the letter in his pocket. He would ask Hermione what she thought of the letter, so once he finished the rest of his coffee, he flooed to Hermione and Ron's house to show them the letter.
"Hermione, I need some help. I received a letter and I need your opinion."
"Coming Harry, one moment," Hermione shouted back. Harry went to the living room and sat on the sofa to wait to her. Hermione and Ron moved in together after the war and were still together after two year. Quite a feat considering it was the two of them. Hermione and Ron came into the living room together, and it was obvious that they had just gotten out of bed. Never mind, that was something Harry didn't want to think about.
"What letter do you need us to read Harry?" Ron asked after he sat down. Hermione had gone to the kitchen to quickly make some tea.
"I received a letter, Ron, from Draco Malfoy. He is inviting me to some kind of Charity Gala."
"Well, it's obvious isn't it… say no!"
"What charity is it for Harry?" Hermione came back from the kitchen holding a tea tray. She placed the tray on a table and sat down next to Ron.
"It is a charity for orphans."
"So that is why you are struggling with this," Hermione said. "Well, Harry if you truly want to help the charity, you should go. The fact that it is Malfoy's gala shouldn't hold you back."
"Wait, wait, wait, before you make a decision for him, we should at least read the letter. Can we see it?" Ron interrupted. Harry nodded and handed Ron the official invitation and the letter. Harry watch as the different emotions spread across their faces as they read the letter finally ending in anger. "He called me a weasel, Harry! You can't possibly be thinking about attending this gala. He is an awful person; he doesn't deserve your support," Ron exclaimed angrily.
"But the children do, Ron."
"Harry, I think you should go, regardless of what he called us," Hermione gave Ron a pointed look. "You obviously want to help the charity."
"Okay, Hermione, I will say yes."
"Excellent, now we must figure out what you will wear, it is only two weeks away after all." Hermione grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him out of the room. Harry looked back at Ron, pleading, but the only help he received was a snort of laughter.
"Hermione, we have two weeks. I don't need to decide on an outfit now, let me owl him back first." Harry hastily detached himself from Hermione and flooed back home.
A week and a half had passed and the gala was looming. Harry was starting to regret accepting the invitation. He was getting more and more nervous as the days passed; he had neither formal clothing nor any idea how to act at a gathering like this. When the war had ended, the Ministry had a sequence of galas to raise fund to restore Diagon Alley, the Ministry of Magic, and Hogwarts. Harry was invited to all of them, but he declined to each and every one. Instead, he preferred to help hands on by doing the reconstruction or doing to cleaning. This gala was completely out of his comfort zone and he had no idea what he was supposed to be doing. Finally, he decided to consult Hermione. She would know what he needed to do.
After a very stressing conversation over floo, they decided to meet outside of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor in Diagon Alley. There they would go to Madam Malkin's and pick out dress robes. Harry put on his cloak and apparated to the Leaky Caldron. He waved to Tom before leaving the pub and entering Diagon Alley. Just like every time he entered the street, Harry was astonished by the color and sound that bombarded him as soon opened the brick wall.
"Harry, over here," Hermione was waving at Harry madly to catch his attention. Harry made his way over to her and they walked to Madam Malkin's together. "You need some nice pants, shirt, robes, a tie, some shoes…Harry you don't have anything nice," Hermione accused.
"I just did not see any point to it to having that stuff. It is not like I attend these things often."
"Well, since you have so little, we will just have to spend more time there." Harry groaned; this was going to be awful.
Four hours later, they exited the shop. Harry was dead on his feet and Hermione was exhausted as well. They were ready to go home and sleep.
"Bye Harry."
"Bye Hermione."
The day of the gala had arrived and Harry was feeling nervous; the kind of nervous that made you want to throw up and hide in a closet. Instead, he took an hour long shower occasionally banging his head against the glass wall wondering why he thought attend a gala, especially Malfoy's gala, was a good idea. He got out of the shower and put on some clothes; he would drink some tea before getting dressed, perhaps it would calm his nerves (he would cease to mention that the tea would have a splash of firewhiskey…or be firewhiskey.)
Eventually, 30 minutes and two "cups of tea" later, Harry grabbed his cloak and apparated to the Manor. He appeared before a large, rather ominous gate and could see a lit-up manor behind it.
"Hello, sir!" Harry whipped around, pulling his wand out in front of him. "Oh, didn't mean to startle you. I am Marvin, the gatekeeper."
Seriously, a gatekeeper? Malfoy had a fucking gatekeeper? "Hello Marvin, um, can I go in?"
"Yes, of course, I just need to see your invitation. Can't let just anyone in now can I?"
"Okay," Harry sifted through his pockets before procuring the invitation, " sorry, it's a bit wrinkled."
"No problem, sir, welcome to Malfoy Manor. Enjoy the event ."
Marvin opened the gates and Harry walked up the driveway to the grand front entrance. A doorman pushed open the intricate doors, and the Harry stepped into the crowded hall. There were a least two hundred people mingling in the foyer only, and there were a hundred more in the ballroom dancing and drinking wine. Harry took a deep breath and pushed his way into the ballroom. A small orchestra was playing to the side, and a large dance floor was taken up by nobles waltzing gracefully.
"Potter, so glad you could come," Harry turned to see Malfoy standing next to him, a careful smile gracing his lips.
"Thank you for inviting me," Harry replied, looking Malfoy up and down. He was dressed in elegant blue robes that rested on his body in just the right way. His hair no longer looked like 70% gel, but was carefully styled to be professional yet powerful. His posture reeked of noble breeding, yet he had crow's feet around his eyes. Harry grabbed a glass of champagne off a passing waiter, and took a sip.
"Potter, as much as I hate saying this, but you look semi- decent. Now, you didn't come to this gala for nothing. I just need you to talk. Tell people about the charity, how good it is. I want as many donations as possible, and if public figures like you tell people that you trust it, then they are more likely to donate. Now I know this will be painful for… someone like you, but please dance with people, seem pleasurable. This gala and charity is very important to me.
"Fine Malfoy, I'll try my best."
"Thank you, Potter," and with that Malfoy turned away and left.
Harry grabbed another glass of champagne and stepped into the war zone.
Throughout the night he met people he didn't know and talked about things he didn't care about. Mr. Walter's floo powder company is losing business. People have started to use a cheaper rival brand from that asshole Jacobs. He knows nothing about the market, probably isn't even making a profit. He laughed at jokes that weren't funny, and gossiped about people that were across that hall. Did you hear? Ms. Jacqueline is divorcing her husband? He was having an affair with one of the maids, but I heard that she was also having an affair with the pool boy. That's her just over there. No don't look now, stop it Harry! However, in each conversation he made a point to bring up the charity.
By the end of the night, Harry was exhausted and slightly drunk, so as people started to leave the manor, Harry sat at a table, drinking champagne and eating cakes much too tired to stand and walk out the door. Eventually, there were only a few people left in the manor, milling around. Harry hear a scraping chair and looked up to see Malfoy pulling out a chair to sit in.
"Harry, I just want to thank you. We made nearly a thousand more galleons more than we expected, and I know that was your doing. Thank you."
"Malfoy, as much as I don't like you, I like your charity. I am glad my hard work payed off for now I am much to tried to even stand."
"Well feel free to sit here for the rest of the night, I am going to say good bye to the rest of the guests." Harry raised his glass in salute and went back to finished off the bottle of champagne on the table.
Thirty minutes later, Malfoy came back holding a full, unopened bottle of champagne. "I see that you finished your bottle, would you like a second."
"Why yes sir, I would love a second bottle, but only if you would join me."
"I would never leave you to drink alone." Harry laughed and quickly opened the bottle pouring two glasses. He was more than a little bit drunk and giddy, but he figured there was no harm in a few more glasses.
"Cheers Ha- Potter."
"Cheers, Dr- Malfoy."
A few months had passed since the gala, and Harry and Draco continued to work together bringing money and recognition to the charity as well as a few others. They were on first name bases and considered themselves to be friends.
They often went on casual dinners and walks (not dates.) Harry's favorite days were days Draco can to visit (not because he liked Draco or anything.) Draco's favorite days were when he went to Harry's apartment (not because Harry always made his day brighter, which would be utterly pathetic.) Harry would get butterflies in his stomach when Draco touched him, and Draco would get a tingly feeling when Harry smiled or laughed at him. Harry thought Draco was quite handsome with his silken hair and pale skin, and Draco thought Harry was rather good looking with his bright green eyes, and strong body. BUT THEY DID NOT LIKE EACH OTHER, NOT AT ALL.
"You know Harry, Denial is more than just a river in Egypt," Ron would say eloquently.
"Harry, Draco had changed. We wouldn't mind you dating," Hermione would knowingly say.
"Dude, you totally got the hots for him," George would say laughing.
And Ginny would squeal, saying, "that would be the hottest thing, like ever."
Draco's friends, like Theo, would say, "Draco, get yourself together, either get with him or stop mooning over him. I can't take it anymore."
"You know, it is such a shame. Here I was thinking I might get a chance, so tragically gay," Pansy would cry.
However, Harry and Draco payed no head to their friends comments and continued to remain blissfully ignorant.
They were out on one of their "causal dinners" when Harry asked Draco if he had ever been to a muggle club to which Draco promptly replied no.
"How would you like to experience you first muggle club with me?"
Draco sneered and replied, "Potter, I would like nothing less than to go to a club with you."
"Please…"
"No"
"Pretty please with sprinkles on top."
"No, and what does that even mean."
"I'll pay for dinner."
Draco glanced at the bill and sighed "and for the club."
"Yes!" Harry jumped out of chair.
"Ugh."
The club was crowed, people pulsing to the music, and lights flashing around the dance floor. People sat at the bar or in booths drinking and shouting over the loud music. Draco hated it immediately. There was no class, no respect. People were grinding and making out on the dance floor. The bathroom was used less for peeing and more for sex.
But Harry eyes looked brilliant in the light, and his body seemed to vibrate with excitement, so Draco conceded. "Come on," Harry shouted. "Let's dance." Draco nodded and let Harry drag him onto the dance floor.
The music was exciting and lively. It was completely different from the music Draco grew up around. It was wild and free, and it made you feel wild and free. In this room, with these people no one cared how you danced, whether you swayed your hips or threw your head back. They didn't care about your posture, or who was leading. You were just dancing and they were just dancing and everyone was just one mass of bodies.
Draco looked up and saw Harry, his arms raised in the air, and his hips swaying to the music, and he thought Harry never looked more beautiful. Harry raised his eyes to meet Draco's, and in one fluid motion reached out to him and pulled him close. Draco circled his hand around Harry's waist and Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's neck. Their feet moved together, their hips moved together, but their eyes remained on each other. They danced for hours in this position, breaths on each other's necks and lips centimeters apart. Finally, Harry took one step closer, closed his eyes, and laid his lips on Draco's.
And Draco kissed back.
Harry Potter was happy. He might have had riches. He might have had fans, hundreds and hundreds of fans, but what made him really happy was Draco. It was simply because Draco did not like Harry Potter "The Boy Who Lived" or Harry Potter "Savior of the Wizarding World." He liked Harry, just Harry.
Harry liked sleeping in on a Saturday as long as Draco was laying by his side, and they played quidditch together, Seekers to be exact. They went to at the Weasley's, but they also stayed at home and cooked their own meal, followed by dessert. They went to Fred and George's shop as they still pulled pranks on each other. Draco thought it was cute that Harry was still amazed every time he tapped open the brick wall into Diagon Alley, and that he was still astonished by all the smells, and sounds, and sights.
Draco knew that he had defeated Voldemort when he was seventeen years old and had an Order of Merlin (first class), and he knew that it was a big deal, but he felt that Harry had already received all the recognition and reward that he needed. Thus, Harry Potter, according to Draco, was not anyone special; he was just plain old Harry.
No one else, however, seemed to understand their relationship. In fact, not even Ron or Hermione, understood it. Hermione constantly nagged Harry about spending too much time with Draco, telling him not to fall too fast or he might get hurt. Ron tried to ignore the relationship, pretending Draco and Harry were just good friends but sometimes he would see they hug or kiss, and admired their closeness, but hoped Harry never become that close to him. One time he walked into Harry's flat unannounced, and heard banging and moans of pain, so he left thinking Harry was busy and when he asked Harry about it later, Harry just turned a bright red. But the thing was as much as Harry loved his best friends, even Hermione's cautious words, and Ron's ignorance, he loved Draco more.
Draco knew everything about Harry from his favorite color (Gryffindor Red) to what he had seen in the Mirror of Erised in his first year. He knew that Harry did not like the attention that the media gave him, so he protected Harry, fending them off.
The rest of the Weasleys didn't understand their love. George just gave Harry prank items for free, telling him to destroy the Ferret's life, and while Harry did use them, he still cleaned Draco up and kissed his bruises
Ginny did nothing to help him, she just giggled at their expense. She like to think he had and exclusive look into their relationship, because she was the first one to figure it out after they kissed in the club. She was continually asking for "cute" pictures or "sexy… but not too sexy, friend pornography is uncool" pictures. One time, Harry was molested on a shopping trip by a group of teens asking about Draco and his bed skills, and when he told Ginny about it, she just said, "It was a legitimate question. I mean of course you wouldn't tell a group of crazy teenage girls, that's absurd… but would you tell me?"
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were no help either because every time he talked to them about their relationship. They would just nod and say, "we support the relationship dear, but there are plenty of other men out there. Don't get caught up in Draco, just because he was your first. We just don't want you to get hurt."
And though they brought up a valid point, Harry was not "caught up in Draco"; he had never be caught up in anything, ever, thank you very much, Harry thought everything through. Every time he saw someone stare, or saw someone give Draco a dirty look, he thought about whether the relationship was worth it. He thought maybe he was only hurting himself, or even worse he was only hurting Draco, but every time he saw Draco smile, or kissed him, or fell asleep next to him, Harry knew he would never be able to let him go.
However, Harry did not know what to do, so he let the fangirls fangirl and he left the paparazzi to paparazzi-ing because the only thing that he cared for was not the money or the fans, but Draco. And Harry knew all Draco cared about was him, just Harry.
Hello, Thanks for reading and I would love it if you could give me some feedback and review this fic.
Thanks, SlytherinQuillandInk