"Oh Merlin," Vaishali said from the end of the dining table. She was the first to speak, as everyone else shoved lunch into their mouths like they were starving. She was reading the Daily Prophet and gawked at something printed within its pages. Harry's hackles were immediately raised. He'd been in the paper so many times in his life that he automatically assumed anything comment worthy was about him.
"What is it?" Harris hooked his finger over the edge of the page and craned his neck. "Oh no!" his eyes bugged out and he laughed uproariously.
"Let me see," Levi leaned over, scowling at the idea of being left out.
"You have to show everyone," Magnus said from the other end of the table, ever the voice of fairness.
Vaishali folded the paper over and turned it so everyone could see. There, covering the entire top-half of the page, was a photo of Draco Malfoy, shirtless and brandishing a broom and a Quaffle, glowering sexily at the camera.
"What the fuck?" Draco dropped his fork.
Harry burst out laughing, and a moment later everyone else did, too. Draco's face flushed with humiliation as the photo cocked its head and angled its shoulders. His strong arms and chest were fully on display, and his stylized fauxhawk looked just the right amount of roguish. Draco looked as though he could melt into a puddle and slide out of his chair.
"What does it say?" Harry asked, tossing his arm around Draco's shoulder and squeezing him sympathetically.
"It's an article about the team, mostly," Vaishali refused to lower the page, keeping it up for everyone's enjoyment. "It's about Tex and the League trying to negotiate our entry. It has all of our names in here. Under the picture it says, 'Draco Malfoy, notorious Death Eater and star Keeper."
"Death Eater?" Draco scoffed, his eyes averted. "Only by a technicality."
"It's not like it was a secret, Draco," Zane said. "If anything they're salvaging your reputation."
"Smashing," Draco said bitterly. "The photographer told me it would be tasteful."
"Can I get an autograph?" Vaishali held the paper out eagerly, her eyes glittering with barely contained laughter.
"Did you tease Harry and Ginny when it was their turn?" Draco demanded. Across the table Ginny was trying not to smirk. She eyed Harry with delight over his boyfriend's embarrassment.
"Well it wasn't a beefcake photo like that," Zane pointed out.
"Look at how dark and smoldering you are," Stella tweaked his chin.
"Fucking hell," Draco buried his face in his hands.
"I'll bet you're feeling pretty smug right now, Harry," Harris said with a sly smirk. "Do you look at that and feel possessive?"
It was Harry's turn to blush. He stammered a non-committal reply, and then excused himself from the table. Their teammates catcalled as he retreated. Draco followed a moment later and found him in the kitchen, snickering uncontrollably into his hands.
"Is it really that funny?" Draco set his dishes on the counter and crossed his arms disapprovingly.
"I'm sorry," Harry struggled to regain his composure. "I've been in the paper so many times for so many silly things, things that were really embarrassing. It's kind of funny to see it happen to someone else for a change."
"You've never been in the paper like that," Draco jabbed his finger in the direction of the dining room.
"Come on," Harry said. "You look great. You should be proud."
"I need to go lie down," Draco rubbed his forehead. Harry led him upstairs to his room. They flopped down on the squeaky bed and Harry curled his arms comfortingly around Draco's shoulders.
"Zane was right," Harry murmured into his hair. "I do feel possessive."
"You should," Draco said sleepily.
"Are you possessive?" Harry asked tentatively. He didn't want to put Draco on the spot, but he hoped he wasn't the only one who was head over heels.
"Don't be daft, Potter," Draco sneered without opening his eyes. "If anyone so much as lays a finger on you I'll Avada Kedavra them."
"Good," Harry nestled his nose in Draco's hair and they both drifted off to sleep.
Later Draco would regret that nap. While they slept their roommates nipped out and bought up every copy of the Daily Prophet they could find, cut out the photo from every single one, and posted them around the house. When Harry and Draco went downstairs for weight training later they found shirtless, sex-faced Draco photos everywhere. They were on windows, doors, on each chair in the dining room, in the utensil drawers, inside the vegetable bins, behind the coat rack, under the table, inside the broom shed, and tucked between all of the towels in each of the bathrooms. Draco was utterly horrified, and Harry struggled not to let him know how hilarious he thought it was.
Thankfully the Prophet ran another feature on the team a few days later, and this time included a photo of Magnus and Franz together, looking like a sexified tag-team. Draco laughed uproariously at their reactions when Antonio shared the news. Harry marveled at the way some things never changed. Draco had always been better at dishing it out than he was at taking it. He had matured over the years, especially in the months since graduation, but that part of him remained the same. It was somehow simultaneously comforting and annoying. It was comfortingly annoying.
Stella, Vaishali, and Ginny were featured in the weekend edition, but they were depicted as tough and athletic, which made the photo distinctly less funny. Not that Harry and Draco could have gotten away with laughing at Ginny, anyway. Her opinion of their relationship had begun to soften, an evolution Harry was carefully nurturing for everyone's sake, but he didn't think she'd gotten to a point where she would take kindly to their mockery, no matter how friendly.
On Saturday evening Tex and Nigel showed up at the house dressed for a formal occasion. They found Harry and Draco curled up together in the drawing room and ordered them upstairs with a pair of tuxedos. They apparently were to be in attendance at the fundraiser.
"I have no idea how to do this," Harry held up a cummerbund and a tie as he entered Draco's room.
"You're also missing your cufflinks," Draco pointed out as he helped Harry get himself sorted.
"I don't know how to do those, either," Harry was embarrassed, suddenly feeling low-class and unprepared for the formal event ahead.
Draco fastened his cummerbund, tied his tie, and threaded his cufflinks. He then helped Harry into his jacket and straightened his collar and shoulders. They headed back downstairs and found Tex and Nigel on the back porch with their casually attired team.
"Why do they get to go?" Levi sounded insulted. "What about the rest of us?"
"Seekers and Keepers generally attend the fundraiser," Nigel told him in an uncompromising tone. "That's how it's always been done."
"Bollocks," Levi muttered.
"Y'all stay focused on good thoughts tonight," Tex said. He was wearing a black cowboy hat to coordinate with his tuxedo. "By the time it's over we should know if we're getting our exhibition games. If we get those, we're as good as in the League."
"Good luck," Vaishali said. The others murmured their support.
"Port Keys all around," Nigel passed one each to Tex, Draco and Harry.
With a tug and a blur of motion they were standing in an alleyway beside an elegant old hotel. They could see traffic passing on the street down at the end, but Nigel and Tex led them the opposite way, towards an unmarked door.
"This place serves muggles and wizards," Tex warned them. "Make sure you stick to our section and don't go wandering off into the public areas."
Harry reached out and squeezed Draco's hand. His palm was sweaty, and he knew there was no hiding the nervous perspiration on his brow. Draco squeezed back and gave him a reassuring smile. Then he twisted the smile into a haughty raised-brow sneer. Then he glared. Harry laughed, which was exactly what Draco was going for.
"None of that tonight, you hear?" Tex looked back and pointed at their hands. "You keep it straight until we get our golden ticket. I don't need those old farts finding a reason not to let us in."
"Keep it straight, he says," Draco muttered, dropping Harry's grip.
They entered through the innocuous door and were immediately surrounded by an opulent lobby with enchanted fountains and charmed ceilings that shifted with colors and swirls of clouds. Harry gawked openly, unused to such extravagance, as well as the need to play it cool and hide his amazement.
"This way, fellas," Tex waved them forward to the concierge desk. They each verified their identities and were directed to a ballroom at the top of the sweeping grand staircase.
"Now you two just worry about mingling," Tex told them. "Tell anyone who will listen how good you are at Quidditch. Talk shop, be charming, make them like you. Got it?"
"Sounds easy enough," Draco snorted. "Shall I take my shirt off?"
"Very funny," Tex said sternly. "There will be dinner, then speeches, and by the end of that bit we should be in. Make a good impression."
They entered the ballroom and Tex and Nigel strode away, leaving them lingering in the doorway. Harry's eyes were dazzled by the sight of the room. Enormous pillars supported an impossibly high ceiling. Gargantuan marble statues flanked the raised speaking platform at the end of the hall. Intricately inlaid tiles wove elaborately around the floor and walls. The room was suffused with a rich golden glow and the soft scent of gardenia petals. Shimmering crystal chandeliers hovered above each sumptuously decorated table, and everywhere they looked the finest and richest members of the wizarding community milled about. Harry was in over his head.
"My mother is here somewhere, mark my words," Draco muttered. "This is precisely the kind of event she'd attend for the sake of being seen."
Harry was rooted to the spot and completely speechless. He glanced at Draco and tried to squash his rising anxiety. His hands plucked absentmindedly at the pleats of his cummerbund as though they no longer answered to the authority of his brain.
"Come on, let's get you a drink," Draco clapped him on the shoulder and led him to the bar. He ordered a glass of champagne for each of them, and made sure Harry noticed that it was charmed to shift in multicolored hues in the glass. Only the finest.
They strolled casually through the crowd, and Draco greeted a familiar face here and there. They saw royalty and political figures, and whenever possible he whispered names and ranks to Harry so he would know who they were mingling with. The champagne helped Harry's nerves, but not enough for him to feel comfortable approaching anyone on his own.
They paused to speak with a group of women whom Draco apparently knew from his mother's social circle. The older women flirted shamelessly, paining him in a terribly awkward way. Harry was distinctly uncomfortable as they reached with jewel-encrusted fingers to touch his scar and squeeze his arms. He laughed and ducked his head and made small talk, but he felt a bit green around the edges.
"My goodness, what a difference a summer makes," a voice came from behind.
Draco bowed respectfully to his mother. "I thought I might see you here," he said.
"Heaven forbid you send an owl to let me know what's going on in your life," Narcissa said coolly. She leaned forward and air-kissed just above his cheek.
"As warm and affectionate as ever, Mother dear," his voice was strained.
"Don't be ill tempered, Draco," she raised her eyebrow in a way that said she meant business. Her friends exchanged a look, knowing what that eyebrow meant when used on their own children.
"You remember Harry Potter," Draco said.
Harry could feel the nervousness radiating off of Draco like a heat lamp. This wasn't just a reintroduction. This was introducing the man he was involved with to his mother. Of course, she didn't know that, but Draco did. And Harry could practically see the fear welling up inside of him.
"Nice to see you again, Madam Malfoy," Harry bowed respectfully. He actually felt a bit less anxious now that he was finally greeting a familiar face. He tried to catch Draco's eye and let him know everything was fine, but the blond Slytherin was focused trepidatiously on his mother.
"A pleasure," she said with a forced smile. She was clearly not thrilled to see him. She moved on to her friends and greeted each of the women with an air kiss.
Draco eyed Harry and nodded for him to follow. He strode quickly to the edge of the ballroom and ducked behind one of the enormous pillars. Harry checked over his shoulder as they rounded the marble column to make sure no one was watching them escape.
"I have to tell her," Draco said. "I have to tell her tonight."
"Tex said to keep it quiet until after the speeches," Harry reminded him.
"I can't risk something getting out, some kind of gossip," Draco grasped his arm desperately. "I can't let her find out from anyone but me."
"Nothing is going to get out," Harry reassured him. "We'll keep our distance until we get home."
"She has to know, I have to tell her," Draco shook his head. "Will you be okay on your own for a bit?"
"I won't be any worse off." He withdrew his wand and nodded for Draco to do the same. He muttered an incantation and touched the tips together. "So you can find me when you're done," he explained.
Draco looked around furtively to make sure no one was around and dropped a fast kiss on Harry's mouth. He then straightened his shoulders and marched back to his mother's social circle. Harry watched him go, and hoped he was making the right decision. Sometimes he was so fragile about being with Harry, so unsteady and so unsure, that he worried it would take only a slight shift to drive him away again.
He wandered back into the crowd and smiled vaguely at anyone who made eye contact with him. He was used to being recognized but this was much different from being spotted on the street or in a pub. He stopped by the bar for another drink and felt someone hover at his elbow.
"Mister Potter, I presume," the man said quietly in his ear. Harry shrank back and resisted the urge to brandish his wand.
"I'm no threat," the man spotted his defensive stance. "My name is Satcher Sutterly, I'm with the Ministry of Magic." Mr. Sutterly was a slim, middle-aged man with sharp eyes and a quiet stillness about him.
Suddenly Harry spotted the telltale signs. "You're an Auror," he said.
"Correct."
"A pleasure to meet you, Mister Sutterly," Harry sipped his drink and tried to act as though he socialized like this every day.
"My colleagues and I noticed you when you arrived. We would appreciate the chance to speak with you, if you would indulge us."
Harry obediently followed him to the far corner of the room, where a cluster of three more Aurors sat at the base of one of the enormous statues that flanked the stage.
"Harry Potter," a diminutive blonde girl with blue lipstick and an official Auror potions holster strapped across her evening gown jumped up to shake his hand.
"A pleasure," Harry missed her name as a young man with a dozen earrings in each ear and a black, intricate tattoo across one half of his face rose to grasp his hand next.
The third man, an older gentleman with dark hair and a drink in his hand simply nodded. Harry knew the Ministry had started heavily recruiting after the war to make up for its staff losses. These four were probably either transferred in from another district or were fresh out of training. Harry realized he would be nearing the end of his training soon if he had followed the Auror path.
"Thought you'd be joining us when you graduated," Mr. Sutterly waved for Harry to have a seat. "I saw your N.E.W.T. results, you would have gotten in without a problem."
"Maybe I'll apply when I'm too old and broken to play Quidditch anymore," Harry chuckled uncomfortably.
"It's not a glamorous service we provide," the older gentleman said, "but it's an important one."
"Someone with your skills is sorely needed right now," Mr. Sutterly added.
"I think you'll do brilliantly without me," Harry said. "I would be no good at it anyway. My heart's not in it. I've spent my whole life either chasing or running from evil. I've done my time."
"He's done his time, he says," the older gentleman snorted.
"Leave off, McGough," the blue-lipped girl said. "As soon as any of us dies and comes back in the line of duty, we can criticize. Until then, shut your gob."
"So I suppose that answers that," Mr. Sutterly said. "There's no convincing you to give up your current pursuit to join our ranks."
Harry had to laugh. "You didn't really think I would, did you?"
"No," he jerked his head in the direction of the blue-lipped girl. "But Karla here was desperate to meet you and it seemed like a good opportunity to ask."
"You're a hero of mine," the girl sat next to him and clasped his hands. "It's truly an honor to have the chance to speak to you."
"Well," Harry deftly removed himself from her grip and shuffled down the length of the sofa. "I'm nobody, really. Right place, right time."
"Bollocks," she swore vehemently.
Harry glanced over his shoulder and wondered where Draco was. He had no idea where Tex and Nigel had gotten off to, either. He spotted a familiar face, then realized it was the coach of the Caerphilly Catapults, who he probably ought to avoid.
The Aurors were a pleasant enough group, although Harry had never felt such intense subtext buried beneath small talk before. They were hyper-alert, their eyes constantly on the move as they observed the ebb and flow of guests around the great hall. Harry envied their skills, and he knew they were doing important work. But he also noted the isolation, the way they were set apart from the other attendees.
He thought about his friends, his teammates, and knew he had no desire to withdraw from them. No interest in becoming strange and elite. It occurred to him for the first time that no matter what he said, he had no intention of ever becoming an Auror. The passion for the pursuit of darkness and mysteries had left him. And maybe he was okay with that.