When Harry Potter started his seventh and final year at Hogwarts, he was prepared for a tranquil and relaxing year of nothing but common-room banter, classes and maybe some alone-time to get back with his girlfriend.
Headmistress McGonagall was doing a great job, considering most of her students had already studied almost half a year before the war forced them to stop. Special activities, parties and festivals littered the school year with cheer, while extra lessons were prepared for students nearing their NEWTs and OWLs.
Voldemort was dead, everyone in Britain was celebrating. Harry thought his life would be perfect from then on.
He was, as usual, sorely wrong.
It all started when Hermione suggested Muggle Studies class should be reinforced, so that it would prepare young pure-blooded witches and wizards to accept those who are different from them and prevent a new Dark Lord from rising.
McGonagall thought hard and long about it and finally agreed with Hermione.
Muggle Studies became an obligatory class, and several Muggle acceptation activities were held during weekends.
Ravenclaws approached the new knowledge hesitantly.
Hufflepuffs squealed in delight and enjoyed the activities.
Gryffindors laughed along their fellow classmates and shared experiences with the strange Muggle culture.
Slytherins sat on the back; their eyes narrowed, and still managed to beat their year mates in grades.
Ron liked to remind anyone within earshot that Slytherins must be rueing the day they decided to exterminate muggleborns seeing they now had to act as one in order to graduate.
Harry was just happy there was a class that he didn't have to study for and that now he could play video games during the weekends.
Then he noticed that Malfoy and his cronies (or the ones that were left anyway) where whispering to each other and staring at a Muggle book. Sometimes Parkinson would point to a specific paragraph and compare it with another book, this time a wizarding one. Malfoy would nod at her and then stare at Zabini, who, in turn sighed and started writing on a piece of parchment.
Malfoy looked around; making sure no one noticed them, when his eyes caught Harry's.
They both locked gazes, almost challenging the other to make the first move. Then Malfoy raised two fingers to his forehead and traced a figure on his skin.
Harry blinked; the figure looked like a lightning bolt.
He frowned, getting the message and took two fingers towards his own left wrist, drawing the snake and skull of death eaters.
Malfoy's face paled and his book fell from limp fingers. Parkinson shrieked something but was stopped by Zabini who had to drag her bodily away with the help of Nott.
Greengrass placed a hand on Malfoy's shoulder and whispered something in his ear.
He nodded and whispered back.
This time, all seventh year Slytherins turned to him with glares and spite.
Crabbe held Malfoy's left arm as he led him out of the room. Bullstrode and Greengrass raised their own hands towards Harry in the rudest gesture he had seen a woman do and then stalked away without another glance.
Harry shrugged and turned around; he didn't care if he had offended Malfoy and the other Slytherins, if they didn't like the class, they should complain to McGonagall, not that they would be listened to.
He was so deep in his thoughts that he didn't even notice Neville's pale face as he watched him go.
--------
The following morning, Harry went into the Great Hall with a wide smile on his face, he had enough time to eat his breakfast, maybe even go outside to breathe some air, before he had to go to class.
He could actually go to check on Kreacher or chat with some portrait.
It was going to be a good day.
Or so he thought.
When he finally approached the doors he noticed a group of students crowding around them, whispered conversations flooding the room.
Suddenly he noticed Seamus and Dean staring in shock and he decided he should approach them.
"What's happening?" he asked, eyeing his friend's wide eyes and pale faces.
"Mate, you won't believe this," whispered Dean. "It's the Slytherins, they…"
"MISTER MALFOY! MISS GREENGRASS!!" snapped McGonagall. "UNTIE MISTER ZABINI AND MISS PARKINSON RIGHT NOW!"
The crowd parted like the sea in the movies and Harry could finally see that Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson were chained to the stairway that led to the Muggle Studies classroom, while Draco Malfoy and Daphne Greengrass charmed banners to hover over them.
Greengrass stared at the Headmistress, removing the locks of her golden hair from her face with careless hands.
"We are not moving," she said. McGonagall's eyes widened when she finally noticed that Miss Greengrass had chains in her hands and was currently wrapping them around Malfoy's wrists and arms with clear intentions.
"Headmistress McGonagall," Malfoy said then as he raised both arms to give his classmate better access. "This is a pacific protest against the obvious discrimination suffered by a minority in this school, therefore we will not move until our reasons and demands are heard and considered."
Pansy grinned at the group, her eyes spotting a furious Hermione.
"Muggle enough for you, Granger?" she hissed with a grin.
Horace Slughorn rushed in, his cheeks as red with fury as McGonagall's.
"Cease this ridiculous spectacle at once, children!" he growled, waving his wand. Zabini narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to retort but Malfoy put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head.
"You have no authority over us, professor," he sneered. "When we needed you the most you abandoned us snakes and left us to rot in our disgrace. We were not famous enough for your fancy, I would guess."
The Potion's Master spluttered for a second before pointing his wand at the seventh years.
"Listen to me, Mr. Malfoy, whether you like it or not I am your head of house and I will not coddle you all like Severus did, nor will I protect you from your own mistakes, if any you should-"
This time he was interrupted by Nott, who was approaching them all with Crabbe, both carrying a package.
"Feel grateful?" sneered Theodore. "That we all lost our families during the war and the one snake that is supposed to look out for us now turns his back on us to search for more of his influential slugs? Don't make us laugh, Slughorn."
Pansy nodded, her eyes full of tears.
"I have done all I can for you, children, but I will not treat you like toddlers when you are about to graduate, you have to face the consequences of your acts," Slughorn defended himself; his face was turning purple now. Harry wasn't sure if it was that the words the Slytherin sneered in his direction actually hit him or that he was embarrassed of been told off by his students in front of all school.
Pansy laughed then, her eyes hard.
"You have done all you can? YOU told Tracy she should just face her punishment accordingly and that you were not in any position to help her out. She only needed for you to hear her out, maybe advise her. You were too busy trying to get Potter into you ridiculous tea parties and Tracy was left alone!"
Everyone kept silent; they all knew that Tracy Davis had not been able to stand the social punishment for underage death eaters, the stares and whispers. All considering she was the only survivor in her family.
She had killed herself before the start of the school year.
"We, Slytherins," Malfoy said suddenly. "Will answer to one Head of House and one only, that is, until a new guardian is assigned by Headmistress McGonagall that we deem fit to care for our young."
With a simple flick of his wand, Nott uncovered the package, revealing a portrait of Severus Snape himself. The man didn't look very amused, he had his arms crossed and a frown on his face, but he didn't complain about the ridiculousness of his student's actions in the least.
To Harry, that could only mean he supported them fully.
McGonagall sighed.
"Those are your demands?" she asked, rubbing a hand to her forehead. "You want a new Head of House?"
Nott shook his head.
"No, Headmistress," he said respectfully. "We know the new Head of House will arrive to Hogwarts in a few years; in the meantime Professor Snape has agreed to take care of us."
Slughorn growled something but Minerva ignored him.
"Severus?" she said.
The portrait shrugged.
"We both now it was bound to happen, I prepared my successor and it's only a matter of time before he takes my place," he said simply, his eyes alit with pride. "Albus agreed wholeheartedly with me at the time, and you and I know Slytherins need a guide."
Harry stared at McGonagall when her eyes strayed towards one of the chained students in particular.
"Can't we discuss this matter in private?" she said.
Greengrass shook her head.
"As in any Muggle protest, we want the whole world to know of our demands. We want to create awareness of our ailments and the discrimination we had been witnesses to."
This time, it was too much for Hermione, she marched up front, her hands on her hips, eyes flashing.
"How dare you bigots to talk about discrimination?" she hissed. "You think that protesting the Muggle way is funny! These protests are usually for good causes, to save lives and make a difference! Not to serve your petty interests!"
"And what makes you think our cause is petty?" Zabini frowned. "Who gave you the right to judge whether or not we feel pain or fear? How many of us have to hang ourselves from the Quidditch pitch for you all to get to your thick heads that we also are human?!"
That shut Hermione up.
"We, pureblooded wizards and witches of Slytherin," said Malfoy, a hand on Zabini's shoulder. "Lost our parents and families, our friends. Yes, us seventh years decided we should fight the battle too; we got what we deserved, but what about the first years, the second? How can an eleven year old deserve to lose the family he has always known and cherished? Why must they pay for their parent's mistakes?"
"Get to the point, Mr. Malfoy," Snape's portrait admonished lightly. Draco nodded.
"Headmistress McGonagall, whether you all like it or not, it is us, pure-blooded wizards and witches, that are the minority now. And while we understand your intentions by forcing us to learn the Muggle way we feel it is a discrimination against our culture."
Harry didn't actually get it, but McGonagall's face paled, she saw the Slytherin's logic.
"We don't complain that we are taught how to use a cell phone, but why can't muggleborn students learn the charm to call out the information operator on the floo? We don't mind playing video games, they are fun and an undeniable proof of Muggle ingenuity, but why can't our classmates learn how to play cloud drawing? Or how to play wizarding music? We lost our parents and relatives to the war, but we don't want our culture, the little things that they taught us to be lost too."
Hermione's eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open.
Nott winked at her.
"We only want an equal treatment, Granger," he said.
Professor McGonagall stared at the seventh years. Their determined eyes, the way they all stood together and supported each other, even the way Snape's portrait's eyes shone with pride.
She sighed.
"And just who do you think should teach that class?" she asked tiredly. She just wanted to go to her room and sip a cup of tea, if only to digest the sudden revelation that her school was not as joyful as she thought.
"We thought Mrs. Malfoy would be a proper candidate," Daphne said, shrugging. "Draco is the most instructed in Wizarding tradition of us all, and Mrs. Malfoy has a full pardon, and several diplomas on the matter, which would make her more than fit to teach."
"However, she understand that her, being my mother, would not sit well with the other students and their parents and we don't want any more trouble for you, Headmistress. We don't blame you for this discrimination, we know you hadn't realized it was happening," continued Malfoy, his eyes serious.
"Therefore, we decided we will trust your judgment, Headmistress McGonagall," finished Pansy. "We know you will choose an appropriate Professor for us."
Silence took over the hall once more.
Harry swallowed, his mind in a conflict.
Part of him could see logic behind the Slytherins' allegations. They felt their traditions were being destroyed by the obligatory Muggle studies. Another part, however, was angry. Maybe the snakes just wanted to show off, and force other students to see their superiority.
He didn't really know what to think, and it was hard for him to let go of his old conceptions, even now that the rivalry was mostly gone.
Slughorn was whispering to McGonagall, most likely urging her to punish the Slytherin seventh years for their insurrection. He had been put to shame for all school to see, and that conduct could not be tolerated.
McGonagall was shaking her head in disbelief, her fingers massaging her temple in obvious discomfort.
"I will study your case thoroughly and choose and appropriate professor for this new course," she sighed. And would never admit she felt the urge to sport one of Albus' wide smiles when the seventh-year Slytherins relaxed and gave her enthusiastic grins and beaming smiles.
They were children after all, she had almost forgotten.
"And the Head of House?" Parkinson asked hesitantly, Minerva noticed. Her lips curled upwards.
These children respected her for what she stood for, and were not trying to manipulate her. They just wanted her approval.
She felt motherly and proud for the first time as she stared at all six of them.
"I'm afraid there is very little I can do," she admitted, sighing when her student's faces fell. She scanned their disappointed eyes in search of anything and everything she could do to make it right again. For them to stand up proud and notice her little slip.
Intelligent grey eyes stare back with amusement.
"Then, I hope you won't be offended if we present our case to the board of governors, Headmistress," Malfoy said resolutely, his smile curling into his usual sneer.
Minerva answered with a smile of her own.
"Not at all, children," she said, her hands curling into fists to stop themselves from patting their hair. She didn't like Slughorn any more than they did. As a former head of house she could clearly see he was not fit for the job, but she couldn't take his post away. Only the Board of Governors could.
Harry remained were he stood, his eyes staring fixedly at the Slytherins as they congratulated each other and patted the other's back politely. They were cold towards one another, that much was obvious, but Harry had to admit he was surprised and even a little amused by the shinning pride reflecting on his school-mates' eyes.
Somehow, he knew Slytherin would be partying tonight.
----
Two weeks after the incident, all Hogwarts students had to sit for testing in their cultural knowledge about the magical world and its traditions. Any student who scored under 80 points out of 100 will have to take the new course; of course, the ones who scored over 80 points would be tested on their knowledge of the Muggle world.
That way, Pure-blooded Students went to Muggle Studies while their classmates studied the Wizarding World.
Magical History and Culture started the following month featuring Professor William Weasley (who insisted to be called Bill), and a speech regarding 'Common Knowledge Spells and their Origins'. An ecstatic Hermione declared she would kiss the first Slytherin she saw for such a wonderful class. The other Muggle born and Half-blood in the classroom groaned and hid their faces behind their books.
Much to Harry's amusement, the first Slytherin that Hermione saw was no other than Draco Malfoy himself, who was carrying a blackberry in his hand and reading the instruction manual with a frown.
As the Gryffindor nudged his friend and whispered in her ear that she had, in fact, promised to kiss the first Slytherin in sight and Hermione flushed and whispered back that a seventh year was not a Slytherin by any standards and that she would rather search for any nice and cuddly first year, a sudden golden glow shone from under the girl's feet.
Suddenly her shoes had a life of their own as they dragged her feet towards the unsuspecting blond and her lips puckered lightly, her eyes wide in horror as her own body made her plant a little peck on the Slytherin's cheek.
Malfoy's eyes widened in surprise, as did Harry's, before Hermione fell to her knees in shock and the glowing golden light under her feet formed an intricate pattern around her on the floor.
"Hermione?" Harry asked, approaching his friend. Malfoy raised an eyebrow, his eyes directed at the swirling pattern of light before his lips twitched lightly into an amused grin.
"Kiss the first Slytherin you see?" he said, crossing his arms. "Really, Granger, we are irresistible, I know, but all you had to do was ask."
Harry narrowed his eyes and pulled out his wand, ready to protect his friend's honor.
"What did you do, Malfoy?" he hissed. "Whatever it is, stop it right now."
Silver eyes narrowed lightly.
"I didn't do this," he snapped. "You didn't do her homework, did you, Granger?" With a flick of his wand he was pulling Hermione to her feet and sucking the golden light inside of her wand. "I will guess, you were happily skipping around, wand in hand and then you said something stupid like, 'I'm so happy I will kiss the first Slytherin I see'. And then I passed by."
Hermione blushed brightly and nodded her head, still too shocked to utter a word.
Malfoy shook his head in dismay.
"You do realize that you unconsciously swore a fervent oath?" he sighed, shaking his head patronizingly. "Thanks Merlin it was me you found and not someone… heterosexual."
That caught Hermione's and Harry's attention, for two completely different reasons, as usual.
"A Fervent Oath?" Hermione asked.
"You are gay?" asked Harry.
Hermione and Draco rolled their eyes.
"If you'd like, Granger," he said. "I can tell you all about fervent and unwilling oaths if you explain e-mail to me, I need to finish my homework and I still don't get this… attachment thing on email servers."
The girl nodded mutely, staring in awe at the blond. Maybe she had realized that, without Voldemort, there was nothing standing between her and this fortunately homosexual fountain of knowledge.
"Excellent, is the library appropriate for you, say, after lunch?" he asked, his hands politely held behind his back.
"That's perfect, I guess I will be seeing you there, Malfoy," Hermione gushed, her cheeks pink.
"Very well, then," Malfoy nodded with a light bow. "I shall see you then."
Without another word, the boy walked away, once more immersed in his blackberry.
Harry turned to Hermione as if he was seeing her for the first time.
"Are you out of your mind?" he snapped. "That's Malfoy!"
Hermione turned to him, her eyes full of suspicion.
"So?" she asked lightly.
"What do you mean, so?" he yelled. "He's MALFOY!"
Hermione rolled her eyes, shaking her head in that motherly way that made Harry want to flinch.
"Harry, you are just upset because he has been ignoring you since we got back," she said softly, patting his shoulder. "I know you liked the competition, but you must let it go." Suddenly she realized she had said the wrong thing when Harry's face turned purple in anger.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN I LIKE THE COMPETITION!? I COULD CARE LESS ABOUT THAT FERRET!" he snapped angrily, before stalking away. Why did he have to stay and listen to Hermione's insane ramblings? He wasn't angry at Malfoy, not anymore.
---
The following week, Harry spent most of his time avoiding Hermione, which left him most of his days alone, since Ron had to take Muggle Studies with the other pure-bloods.
He felt lonely; of course, he was used to spend time with his friends. But Hermione was at fault and he would not apologize, he refused to.
It wasn't that he hated Malfoy. He didn't, not since the end of the war. But the dislike they both felt for each other, their mutual dislike, was still there, he knew it. Even if Malfoy spent most of his days studying and taking notes and talking with Professor Sprout and now had Hermione hanging from his arm and most students admired him and he acted as if Harry … didn't exist.
"Damn it!" he snapped, biting his quill.
"Are you ok, Harry?" Bill asked from the front of the class. Harry flushed embarrassedly but shook his head.
"I'm sorry, Bill," he mumbled, hiding his face in his arms. The redhead sighed, a smile firmly in place.
"Well then, let's continue," he said. "As you can observe from some of your classmates, there are lots of gestures and hand movements that are an indisputable part of the Wizarding Tradition, yes Hermione?"
Hermione grinned.
"Parkinson always makes sure her left ear is uncovered, is that normal?" she asked proudly, now that she spent her studying hours with Malfoy and his friends, she had noticed some of the little gestures they tended to have.
Bill nodded.
"Yes, most women in the wizarding world make sure to have their left ear uncovered, Hermione," he explained. "The left side of our face was often called the 'sinister side' so women left it uncovered to show they had no evil inside of them nor any hidden intention towards evil."
Hermione nodded and scribbled furiously on her parchment, unconsciously reaching to tuck her hair behind her left ear.
Harry rolled his eyes.
"Traditional Greetings, also," Bill continued. "Are quite important. Many gestures and the inclination men and woman use during a bow can change the complete meaning of the greeting. But don't panic, we will only see the most common." He laughed, just as his students started to pale.
Slowly, he brought two fingers to his forehead and traced what, to Harry, looked like a lightning bolt while his enchanted chalk copied the figure on the board.
"This is a common peace greeting," Bill explained. "It can usually be translated to: Hello, I bear no ill thoughts towards you. The figure, as you might have learnt from your Defense lessons, is an open portal towards your own mind, almost an invitation you make to the other party so they can legimens your head and make sure you only seek friendship. Nowadays many pure-bloods just bow like this."
And he put a hand to his heart and bowed lightly, his eyes set on the floor.
"This is the proper response, and can be translated as: From the bottom of my heart I believe your plea and no further proof is needed. I accept your friendship and welcome it. Most families engaged in feuds will greet each other like this after an agreement is reached."
Harry raised his hand shakily, his eyes wide.
"Yes, Harry?"
"Wh-what happens if…" he swallowed thickly. "If instead of… bowing to that greeting one would… I don't know… point to one's … wrist?"
Bill raised an eyebrow.
"Well, it would all depend on the wrist," he said, drawing a triangle on his right wrist. "This would mean: I won't accept your friendship, you have wronged me." Then, he slowly drew a circle on his left wrist, almost like the dark mark. Harry held his breath.
"And this, which is quite uncommon, would mean: I cannot accept your friendship for I want you as my spouse. But it's an archaic gesture and most people won't use it anymore."
Harry shook violently in his seat, his forehead soaked with sweat. Hermione sent him a concerned look.
"What happens if someone does?" he asked shakily.
Bill tilted his head to the side.
"Well, considering this is a greeting for families in a feud, there are two outcomes. One, the losing family makes the proposal, in which the winning family has two moons to refuse or accept, or two, the winning family makes the proposal, and the losing family has no option but to accept or risk a punishment by magic."
Harry heard no more as his world narrowed and his weight pummeled down.
Hermione's cries and Bill's shouts were the last thing he heard as darkness enveloped him.
----
When he awoke, he was in the infirmary. A wet towel was firmly placed on his forehead and a foul smelling potion was trusted down his throat.
"He will be feeling better in a few minutes," Madame Pomfrey said. "Now I'll leave you two alone and tell his friends he's with you."
"Thank you, Madame," a voice said softly, politely.
The woman left his bedside just as Harry reached for his glasses. When the world came into focus again, he realized that not only was he in one of the Infirmary's private rooms, but Draco Malfoy was sitting by his bedside with an enormous book in his lap and reading glasses delicately perched on his small nose.
"Malfoy?" he asked weakly.
"Don't move," the blond said without even looking at him. "You got quite a whiplash of magic, your shoulders will ache."
"Whiplash?"
Draco nodded.
"You created a marriage bond with me and went around your merry way unaware of it, most likely flirted with someone," he explained, taking his glasses off. "Magic doesn't like it when people toy with it. It toys back."
Harry tried to sit up, his shoulders protesting just as Malfoy had said they would, but he didn't want to let Malfoy win, so, with a groan of pain he managed to lift his upper torso. Draco rolled his eyes and waved his wand lazily, finally closing his book.
Harry's bed rose to mold to his back and lift him into a sitting position.
"You always forget we are wizards, don't you, Potter?" he asked lightly, staring into Harry's green eyes for the first time in months.
Harry frowned, not really sure what was going on.
"You are awfully calm about this, Malfoy, eager to marry me?" he asked slyly, hoping for anything, any sign that Malfoy was as upset as he was. Malfoy just blinked and shrugged his shoulders elegantly.
"I've been trying to find a counter-curse for almost three months, with no success I might add. Then mother made me realized I would have ended up married to another man anyway and to be your spouse is most convenient for my future plans," he said simply. "Therefore, I already screamed, cried and destroyed my room, and now I realized there's very little I can do."
Harry stared in awe, who was this person and where was his explosive and annoying Draco?
And suddenly another thought struck him.
"You would end up marrying another guy?" he asked in shock, not liking the idea as much as he might have guessed.
Malfoy nodded.
"The Black family had many marriage agreements with most pure-blooded families for centuries, considering most of these families have disappeared because of the recent wars and that my nephew and I are the only last descendants of Black blood, either I marry or he does," he said with a shrug. "And I'm afraid little Ted is too young to consider marriage and I'm already homosexual, I see no problem."
"But you wouldn't love your husband!" Harry protested. "How can you accept to be married to someone you don't love!"
Draco shrugged.
"I'm a convicted Death Eater, Potter, and by Ministry's law I can't leave Great Britain ever again," he sighed, running a hand over his hair. "Who would ever love me?"
Harry bit his lips and told himself it was out of impotency, not out of any urge to prevent condemning words to come out of his mouth. Stupid, meaningless words like: I would.
"Furthermore," Draco continued. "I will soon succeed Professor Snape as Slytherin's Head of House and Potion Master, and that means I will be away most of the year. By marrying you we can both lead perfectly normal lives most of the time and not get in each other's way."
"You can't seriously be considering…" Harry stuttered.
"That you can have your family and home with whomever you want while I work here?" Malfoy asked. "Of course I am. I can't ask you to leave the life you had planned for yourself just because of a silly mistake. We can get married, graduate and we can both go our separate ways, though I might need to have a child of my own so we should see whether you want to give me a child or I should look elsewhere."
Harry shook his head, his thoughts spinning in circle.
"Why would you want to have a kid if you can't care for him or her?" he snapped. Malfoy narrowed his eyes lightly.
"I never said I would not care for my child, but if as the Black heir I'm marrying you, my family's contract will demand I have an heir to marry off to our allies, and I assure you, they will want us to fulfill our agreement, or so my former fiancée said."
Harry sighed, the acceptance in Malfoy's eyes, in his whole posture, told Harry that he really couldn't care less who he was going to marry, as long as he had a child and was allowed to live the life that others had set for him.
He felt so suddenly tired.
"Can you leave, Malfoy," he asked. "Please?"
The blond blinked, surprised, and shook his head.
"Sure, but I guess I should be back to plan the wedding," he said lightly.
"Great," Harry groaned. "Once again the universe will ruin my life!" Malfoy chuckled lightly and shook his head.
"I would say this time it is your own doing, but I don't want my fiancée angry at me," he said, leaning forward to fuse his lips with Harry's. The green eyed boy gasped, allowing the blond's tongue to roam his mouth freely.
Once they parted, Malfoy gave him his usual superior smile and a sassy wink.
"So you don't think you are getting the short end of the stick," he said. "I happen to think I got a handsome husband out of the deal, and I would hope you think so too."
Harry nodded mutely and Draco grinned, the first real smile Harry had seen from him. With a small wave, Draco left the room, and Harry realized he had been smiling stupidly himself.
With a shake of his head, he crossed his arms and frowned.
"I'm going mad," he muttered, wincing lightly when he pulled at his sore shoulders.
----
The following days were an emotional rollercoaster to Harry, first his ex-girlfriend, supposedly on her way of being current girlfriend Ginny threw her entire schoolbag onto his face and screamed and raved about how he had preferred that insufferable git Malfoy over her.
Then Parkinson, Greengrass and Zabini abducted Harry for the usual: You break Draco's heart and we will crucio you until you won't remember your own name, Azkaban be damned talk.
Then he tried to corner Malfoy somewhere to ask whether there was a way for him to get out of the marriage, since he was the one who proposed in the first place and Draco was more or less screwed.
Draco had then shaken his head and replied that magic could possibly kill them both, as Harry was being unfaithful to his feelings.
Then he had batted his eyelashes coyly and asked whether Harry thought him ugly, and Harry had shaken his head dumbly before stalking away.
And since Ron refused to talk to him until his stupid engagement with the Ferret was done with, he now spent his days with Hermione, who supported him fully if this was what he wanted to do with his life, and Neville who decided he might as well help him out in wizarding tradition before he ended up with a harem. So far, three ravenclaws had tried to lure him into making them their sole heir, a hufflepuff asked him for a threesome and Seamus suggested he switched fiancées with him.
Harry decided he might as well make Neville his best man if Ron didn't come around and he actually ended up marrying Malfoy.
The other man had saved him throughout the month from the most embarrassing situations.
"I just want you to be happy, Harry," Neville said with a smile, whenever Harry thanked him, his eyes set and determined. "And if you really love Malfoy, then I wish you two the best of luck."
It was then that things got complicated. Because while Harry was ready to marry Malfoy and maybe help him have a kid of his own, he wasn't in love with him. Yes, Malfoy was gorgeous, and yes, he could admit he had missed him the months he had been ignored, but actually love him?
Impossible.
Malfoy had always been a git and a bully and such a strong reminder of his cousin Dudley when Harry was growing up that he doubted he could see him as anything different. Granted, Malfoy had grown up and matured, or so it seemed. To Ron, he was just walking around with his tail between his legs and making sure no one noticed he was on the losing side in the war.
So, yes, he couldn't be in love with Malfoy.
"Harry," Hermione sighed, as he loudly denied any feelings he might have for Malfoy. "If you really don't love him why would you want to marry him?"
Harry shook his head at her and sighed.
"Because I'm stupid and I bound us together in marriage," he said sadly. "There's nothing we can do, magic could kill us both if I tried to change it, so I guess he's right, we might as well make the best of it since there's nothing we can do, don't you think, 'Mione?"
Seamus nodded.
"That's just Harry and his luck, though Malfoy is gorgeous, if you really want to get rid of him after you two are married you know where to find me," he said, wrapping an arm around Harry's shoulders.
And Harry felt that same tightening of his stomach, just imagining Seamus in any way touching Draco, his husband, he felt like digging up Dumbledore's corpse just to get to the Wand and cursing the Irishman into oblivion.
"Are you sure you are not in love, Harry?" Neville asked when he frowned, and Harry smiled and nod his head fervently. "You might hurt Draco's feelings then."
And Harry paused.
"Why would I hurt his feelings?" he asked with a frown. "He already made himself quite clear, he doesn't mind the fact he's marrying me because he's going to get married to a bloke anyway."
And then Hermione put in her own two cents.
"Yes, but he is in love with you," she said.
And silence took over their group.
Harry gapped at his friend, his eyes wide.
"He is not!" he yelled, his cheeks flushing.
"Oh, he is," Hermione nodded. "It's so obvious I don't know how I could have missed it before. He's always looking at you and making sure he has your attention."
"Plus," Seamus cut in. "He's nice to your friends now, and is trying to get a place in the world himself, not because of Daddy's money, just so you can respect him."
Neville shook his head.
"He is like that to Ron too," he mumbled, uncomfortable. "Maybe the one he loves is Ron?"
All three Gryffindors turned to him, then, their eyes wide.
Then, as one, they all turned to Ron, who was making his way through the Great Hall towards Malfoy, his fists raised and his face as red as his hair. The blond raised an eyebrow at him, his inseparable book still in his lap and his glasses perched cutely, to Harry's opinion, on his nose.
Ron said something the other Gryffindors couldn't make out, then laughed loudly, and then spluttered as his mouth was replaced with a god's snout. Malfoy rolled his eyes, lowered his wand and continued his reading, not even bothering to look up when Professor Slughorn reprimanded him.
Neville sighed, Seamus laughed and Harry blushed, Draco was indeed cute when he wanted to hide his mirth.
Hermione rolled her eyes and went to aid her boyfriend, muttering something along the lines of how Malfoy might be sweet to her and the others, but he still hated Ron with passion.
Seamus rested his arm against Harry's.
"Sorry, Nev, but that is one Slytherin love-sick puppy if I've ever seen one," he said cheerfully. "Congrats Harry!"
Harry shook his head, not really sure what he would do. Without another word he stood from his seat and stalked away from the Great Hall and those knowing silver eyes that followed his every move fondly.
"Mr. Potter," a voice sneered and Harry couldn't help but groan in dismay.
"Yes, Professor?" he sighed, turning towards the wall.
Snape's portrait looked down at him with a sneer of distaste.
"I would advise you to turn around and go back to wherever you came from," he said seriously. "You are treading into Slytherin's territory and the seventh years are not kind to those messing with their space."
Harry narrowed his eyes.
"I'm marrying into a Slytherin family, they'll have to deal with that," he snapped, his hands clenched.
Severus rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.
"Right, your engagement with Mr. Malfoy," he muttered. "I wondered whether you were really going to do it, considering your history. I guess you finally realized your feelings."
"What feelings!" the boy ground out, ready to tear his hair out with his hands. "I've told everyone already! It was an accident! I don't love him and he doesn't love me!"
Snape shook his head, a condescending smile curling his lips.
"I do know your sudden engagement was nothing but an accident born out of your inattention, Mr. Potter, your feelings, however," he mocked. "Please, child, I've watched you two grow up since you started. And since you discovered women and men were different Mr. Malfoy has always been in your mind."
"Not like that," Harry muttered. "He was my rival."
"Of course," Snape hissed. "Draconis has loved you since he saw you at Madame Malkin's or so he told me. You, however, I would guess you loved Draconis back since the day you decided to slash his chest open?"
"That's not true! I had Ginny at the time!" he shouted.
"Then, Mr. Potter," Snape sighed. "If you really don't love Mr. Malfoy, marry him right now, divorce him and let Longbottom make him happy."
Harry frowned.
"What does Neville have to do with this?" he asked slowly, dreading the answer.
"Mr. Malfoy must have told you already," Snape sneered. "The Black family had many arranged marriages with many of the most important pure-blooded families, but most of these families disappeared during the war. The Longbottoms, however, have an heir, and he would be the one marrying Mr. Malfoy should you divorce him."
Harry shook his head.
"That's not true," he muttered. "Neville hates Draco."
"Does he?" Snape mocked. "Have you asked him?"
Harry hadn't. He had just assumed Neville hated Malfoy and his Slytherin cronies as he had done in his first year at Hogwarts. But now?
Now Neville was a war-hero, and so kind and caring, always there with an advice, always ready to make sure Harry was making the right choice by marrying Malfoy.
… Because he would be the one to hold Draco in his arms if Harry didn't.
He would be there, waiting for his chance to reclaim his fiancée.
Part of him felt like scum, because he had taken Neville's fiancée, the one he must have known from birth would be his, from him. He had not even known what he was doing.
Maybe he should do what Snape suggested.
Draco was going to become a Potion Master and work at Hogwarts, while Neville was succeeding Professor Sprout by the end of the year.
They were so very well matched.
And Neville was gentle and passionate at the same time, a real gentleman. A pure-blooded gentleman imbued in the same traditions that Draco cherished.
He had no place between them.
He should really marry Draco, and then divorce him and let him live with Neville.
He could really do it, let go of Draco.
Draco…
Who meant everything.
"I can't," he whispered, his eyes wide. "I'm sorry for Neville, but I can't."
Snape shook his head patronizingly, but remained silent as Harry dashed back towards the Great Hall.
Most of the students were gone by then, but just as he had hoped, there was Draco, still studying, still taking notes and reading page after page of his book.
He didn't know what to do, how to feel, but there he was, the man magic had decreed he would marry. The one he could start a family with.
To hell with his doubts.
With desperation he wrapped his arms around Draco from behind, smiling a little when the blond tensed.
"I love you," he whispered hoarsely, trying to swallow down the knot that had tightened his throat. How come he had not realized before? How come he had been so blind. "Merlin, I love you, I want to be by your side forever."
Draco let his quill down and removed his reading glasses with shaking hands.
"Harry?" he asked slowly, almost afraid.
The Gryffindor nodded.
"Don't say a word, I know," he whispered against Draco's pale ear. "We can make this work, I love you, and I want to make it work! Just say we will try."
There was a prolonged silence.
Harry held his breath.
Finally, he nodded, his head tipping slightly.
Harry tightened his arms around his fiancée and closes his eyes happily. Maybe he would not be an auror, maybe he would not have all the redheaded children he thought he would. Maybe he could talk to Madame Hooch, who was considering retirement.
Who needed a white fenced house and a dog when he had a castle and a prince?
Certainly not him.
The End.