Draco looked... interesting.

It was the day before the gala, and the two were doing last-minute planning in Grimmauld place. Harry had an entire closet full of the children's designs, and they had been sorting through them to find the outfits they wanted to wear.

Draco had chosen to try the Foil suit. It was like spandex, and he shone, and Harry had to admit it was better than when McLaggen had sported it. Still, it was strange.

"You're not wearing that in public," Harry told him, staring with wide eyes. "You look like a space man."

Draco laughed. "You don't need to give me fashion advice, Harry." He winked. "Just wanted to see your face if I wore this." He turned to go back into the bedroom to put on for what he actually wanted to wear. "What kid designed this, anyway?"

Harry frowned. "Melanie, I think. But the drawing was just of a silver man. Luna took it from there," Harry explained. "You can't expect a six year old to draw up anything more than the concept." He went into the closet to find the white "vampire" suit Draco had suggested he wear.

He smiled when he looked at everything there and remembered the kids' drawings. Most of them were far different in actuality than in the original drawings... But that was marketing, he supposed. He began sifting through the racks, looking for the white suit.

"Gods, it's like bloody rainbow in here!" He called out to Draco. "Maybe it's just internalized," he added with a snicker.

"What did you say?" Draco yelled from the other room. "Internalized rainbows?"

"It was a joke!" Harry called back to him.

"What the hell are you going on about?" Apparently Draco didn't understand the gay muggle "closet" reference.

"Never mind!" Harry shouted back at him.

"What?" Draco sounded frustrated. "Dammit, Harry! Just come out of the bloody closet!"

At that, Harry burst out in a fit of laughter. "I can't! Not yet, remember?" He heard Draco stumble about in the other room, and soon he was standing in the closet door in front of him. He was in another of the items McLaggen had modeled: the red tux with the dragon spine on the back. It only looked slightly ridiculous.

"What, do you need help finding the suit?" Draco asked, looking slightly peeved. "And what are you laughing about?" He demanded.

"You're supposed to help me come out of the closet." Harry said, looking at him expectantly.

"Okay, then. Let's find the suit."

"No, Draco!" Harry laughed. "It's a metaphor. For telling everyone I'm gay."

Draco frowned. "The suit or the closet? I'm confused now."

Harry sighed, and patted Draco on the shoulder. "It's okay, love. And red really isn't your color."

Draco had ended up choosing the white suit, and switching Harry out for the red dragon one. He had finally conceded that there was no way he could find something for either of them that didn't look ridiculous, and had essentially given up.

After that frustrating realization, he had used Harry's floo to visit his mother. He felt that he owed it to her, after not telling her about all this until last minute. She had felt quite left in the dark beforehand.

Now? She was obviously frazzled and overwhelmed. The catering house elves were disagreeing with the "enslaved" Malfoy house elves on almost everything. Narcissa was trying to tell some of hers to hold back and leave the others alone, but they were insisting that it was their duty to stop the other ones. They weren't listening to her because she wasn't their official master.

Draco was. He found her close to the edge of her limits and on the verge of tears.

"Henny! Goppy!" He snapped. "Leave these elves alone. You can only care for the bedrooms until they leave."

His mother looked up at him with half-gratitude, and half-rage. "Three days, Draco! I've been dealing with this for three days. You could have done something sooner." She let out a sigh, and wrapped him in hug, leaning most of her weight on him. "I've no idea how you expect this to be ready in twenty four hours."

Draco rubbed her back. "It'll be fine, mother," he assured her.

Narcissa didn't appear to believe him. "I got one of the dresses." She informed him, once she had steadied herself and broken away. "It wasn't as much of a joke as I had expected," she added with a smile.

"Well, wait till you see mine." Draco murmured. Young girls had the brains to design decent dresses, he supposed. But neither them or the boys could come up with a normal suit.

"I'm supposing it will be as muggle as what you normally wear?" She inquired, staring curiously at his clothes. He realized, with a blush, that he had borrowed Harry's clothes again. Terribly casual. Ridiculously comfortable. It's absurd.

"I'm afraid I wasn't interested in the robes, no," he confessed. He wondered what his father would have thought of him hardly wearing robes anymore. He probably would have blamed it on Harry, he realized.

Narcissa sighed. "I'm sure you'll look handsome, regardless." She sighed. "Though whatever you're in now is certainly questionable."

Hermione and Terry were among the first people to arrive. They had apparated to the gates of the Malfoy Manor, where several other people were waiting outside the house's door.

The Manor was different than she remembered, at least from the outside. While it was certainly not neglected (the grounds still had beautifully manicured gardens), it seemed much more empty. There was no Dark magic buzzing in the air, and she felt very little fear this time.

She wondered how many people had questioned attending because it was in the Manor. She had mentioned this with Draco, but he insisted it was the only suitable location. She had a feeling, however, that he just wanted it to be there so the Malfoy name could be connected with the charity work.

Not that Draco wasn't already. He had written a piece announcing the article, stating the importance that people attend to show support for the orphaned children that he had been spending so much time writing about. He pulled heartstrings by telling a few of their sob stories, and suggested that interested parents come and speak with him or Harry, or Madam Humpop (the matron of the orphanage whom had left the children with a trusted sitter for the evening) at the party.

It was also rumored that he and Harry had begun signing off papers for a second charity. Working in the Ministry, and being a friend of theirs, Hermione knew that it was for their LGBT awareness project, and that both men had invested a considerable sum of galleons from their accounts at Gringotts. They would be announcing it tonight, she knew, and she wondered how Harry would play it off. The public was for now ignoring the nature of his relationship with Draco, but it would get harder as they drew more and more attention to themselves.

Which she didn't mind; she wanted people to guess, to speculate, to be aware of. It would be less of an issue, then, when Harry finally came out. But Harry and Draco wanted more of a "big bang" effect, apparently not caring that the sudden announcement would put them in an even brighter spotlight.

She smiled, and squeezed Terry's hand. It was out of her power, anyway; Terry was forbidden by the editor to publish anything on them.

"I really wish I could cover the story on this party," he sighed, as they approached the front door to the Manor. "But alas, Skeeter got it. As with all things having to do with Potter... And they think I have an agenda?" He laughed wryly.

Hermione chuckled. "Skeeter's been at it longer than you have. At least you're her superior in the office, right?" She suggested encouragingly.

"Not really," he groaned. "Whatever she writes gets covered as news. My stories are lucky to make it into the first few pages. We're not Witch Weekly, you know."

"Speaking of which," she joked, "I see our famous designer. Luna!" She called.

Luna turned to face them, in an ethereal, glowing dress. "Hermione!" She greeted them, beckoning them over. "And Terry. What a surprise!" She smiled at Terry, her former Housemate. Terry waved half-heartedly at her.

"Is he your date, Hermione?" She asked warmly.

Terry cleared his throat, and gave her a look. Can I say it? Please let me say it. She rolled her eyes, and he took her indifference as approval. "Hermione is my fiancee." Terry announced with a grin. Hermione held out her ring hand for Luna to see.

"As of this week," she clarified, as Luna lifted her hand to inspect the ring.

"It's lovely," she commented. "Where did you get it? I might want something similar to give to Pans-"

Luna broke off as none other than Pansy Parkinson stalked up from behind, wearing an almost identical pantsuit to Hermione.

"Granger. Boot." She nodded to them curtly, taking a moment to glare at Hermione's outfit. She placed a hand on Luna's shoulder. "Luna, love, you can talk to these peons later, okay? The doors are just opening up, and we need to get in early so I can talk to Draco without him avoiding me."

Luna sighed, but nodded. "Of course, dear." She waved at Hermione and Terry as she was dragged away. "Congratulations, by the way!" She called.

Hermione giggled, but Terry just shook his head. "She's as weird as ever," he remarked. "You wouldn't know," he added, "because you didn't live with her." He took her hand again and guided her towards the house.

Hermione didn't object, knowing they didn't want to argue before the evening had even begun. "Fine," she sighed. "Let's go. Hopefully Draco won't avoid us, hmm?"

"Harry won't, if he does. Someone's got to be willing to talk about adoption." He replied. They stepped through the doors into the massive foyer.

"Well." Hermione said. "This brings back memories."

Harry was hovering by Draco in the back of the room, where he was quietly talking with the musicians he'd hired. When Harry asked him to choose the music, he'd actually just thought Draco would choose some lively records to play. Instead, he'd written several of his favorite musicians and asked them to perform live. Harry wondered why he hadn't realized that Draco would insist on live music.

Draco was whispering to Farhedge Manzyne, an accomplished musician of 45 years, like he was some sort of saint. Harry caught the words "mother" and "a huge fan," and "last minute." He had a feeling this old geezer wasn't there because Draco enjoyed him, but because he thought it might help make up to his mother.

Harry tentatively joined them, apparently towards the end of the conversation.

"Of course, I'll speak with her. How can I find her?" Manzyne asked. He was a handsome middle-aged wizard, most likely around the same age as Mrs. Malfoy. His head was shaved, but he was dressed in immaculate dress robes and had a rather sophisticated aura to him.

"You'll know her when you see her," Draco grinned, and Manzyne nodded and walked away to his violin.

"What was that about?" Harry asked Draco, tapping on his shoulder. He jumped slightly and turned to face him, a smirk on his face.

"I hired mother's favorite musician. I recall her swooning at a particular record of his when I was younger. She'll be thrilled to meet him." His eyes glittered with excitement.

"Your mother swoons?" Harry asked, having trouble imagining the Malfoy matron showing much emotion other than controlled distaste.

Draco frowned. "Perhaps not in your own understanding of the word. She sighed contentedly with her eyes shut," he added. "I hope that's a good thing..."

Harry laughed. "I'm sure it will be. Now, can we go greet our guests? Or would you prefer to continue mingling with Hammered Harpies and the Jeweled Junipers?"

"Well, I've yet to talk to Japon Hearthscross... He's a very talented guitarist, you know..." He sighed and glanced back towards where the musicians were setting up. There were five bands and artists, a mix of wizarding rock and classical and folk. They would be taking turns playing throughout the night, and had volunteered to perform for free.

"Later!" Harry urged him. "The doors have already opened, and people are probably wondering what to do."

"We hired a hostess so we wouldn't have to do this..." Draco groaned. "But you're right. We must make a good impression." He gave Harry a pained look that spelled out something along the lines of, I'm going to hate every minute of this.

Harry would, too-and he didn't even have the same reasons as Draco, whom had come to hope that he would never have to deal with this high society bullshit ever again after growing so tired of it. Harry just wasn't used to it.

He resisted the temptation to take Draco's hand or show any other kind of affection. He deliberately took a step away so their shoulders wouldn't brush, and kept his eyes forward. "You look great in the white," he told Draco, in spite of himself.

"And Gryffindor red suits you," Draco replied. "Now, act spiteful towards me. We have an act to maintain."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm sure most people have seen through it, Malfoy." He only just managed to hide his contempt.

"Shut it, Potter." Draco took a few steps forward, apparently spotting someone familiar. "Zabini!" He shouted. "You came! What the hell are you doing here?" His voice was light, and Harry was glad he encountered a friend.

Harry searched around for a familiar face. He was a little surprised when he immediately considered Pansy Parkinson a familiar face, and approached her and Luna as they stepped through the door.

"Hello, ladies." He grinned at them, and they paused at the door.

"Potter." Pansy said plainly, a smile lighting her face. "Is Draco here?" She asked.

"He's with Zabi-er, Blaise." He informed her, and a malicious grin appeared on her face as she scampered away to find them. Harry was left staring at Luna, who was literally glowing.

"She's been meaning to talk to Draco for some time," Luna remarked. "How are you, Harry?"

"Stressed, actually. This whole charity thing is harder than it looks. Though you certainly helped!" He added, giving her a look of gratitude. "I mean, this would be much more stressful for me if we weren't all dressed strangely. It's a bit like standing in front of a crowd and imagining them in their underwear."

Luna smiled and tilted her head. "You are very odd, Harry." She murmured, and wandered away. Harry wasn't sure what that meant, coming from her.

As she wandered away, he spotted Hermione with a dark haired man. He realized that must have been Terry Boot, and approached them.

"Harry!" Hermione beamed, and he saw her squeeze Terry's hand as she let go to approach him and hug him.

"Hullo, Hermione," he chuckled as he hugged her back. Terry came over to join them, and Harry broke away. "Terry Boot?" He asked, and without realizing gave the man a once over glance. He hadn't changed much from school, really.

"Hello, Harry." He said. "Hermione's talked about you a lot," he said wryly. "Too bad I can't report on you."

"Hm?" Harry asked, looking between the two of them.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "The Chief Editor isn't Terry's biggest fan right now. But that's irrelevant. How are you feeling this whole thing will go?" She asked him.

Harry shrugged. "Fine, I suppose. It's hardly begun. We've got nice food from the house elves and good music that Draco's hired. You should be able to hear it any minute..." He trailed off, casting a glance over his shoulder.

"Excellent." Terry commented. "What about the orphan part? Do you think you'll be able to scout out some parents for some of the children?" He asked pointedly, sharing a look with Hermione.

"I don't know, actually. I hope so." He muttered, imagining both the strangeness of having one of the children leave but also the security of them having a family. "Why? Do you know someone?"

Hermione set her jaw. "Actually, Harry..." She said quietly, looking at Terry again, "We were considering adoption. Sooner or later," she added hastily.

Harry tilted his head. His first thought was that he couldn't imagine Hermione settling down any time soon, and the second was the oddity of her use of "we." He looked closely, and he noticed a ring he hadn't seen before...

"Merlin!" He exclaimed. "Since when were you engaged, Hermione Granger?" He demanded, picking up her hand to inspect the ring. It was a very beautiful piece of jewelry, he noticed, and applauded Terry silently.

"Just this week. If it were earlier, I would have told you beforehand." She explained.

Terry was grinning like a fool. "It's brilliant." He said, staring at Hermione. Harry didn't know what exactly he was referring to, but he nodded in agreement. His attention, however, was taken by a couple hovering nearby, waiting to talk to him.

"I'll see you later, 'Mione. Terry," he added, moving towards the new couple. He didn't recognize them, but he stayed and chatted for a few minutes with them about the party, the charity, the children.

"Oh, we'd love to adopt, wouldn't we, Jerry?" The woman asked,

"Oh, we would, Mr. Potter. But we already plan on having kids of our own, so it's really out of the question." He was looking at his wife pointedly.

Harry frowned. He didn't understand why that was a problem. "Well, there are several infants in the orphanage, as well, if you're looking for a younger child." He informed them.

The wife grimaced. "Oh, no. It's not that-I've heard young ones are terrible anyway, and I'm not looking forward to it." She said. "Blood is very important to us. But we still support the cause!" She exclaimed.

Harry realized they were pureblooded, then, and that they were just here for the publicity. "Oh, that's understandable," he lied. "Have a wonderful evening, you two."

They wandered off, and Harry found himself watching Draco. He was engaging with both Blaise and Pansy now, and... Merlin. Is that Neville?

Draco was by the drinks table with his two old friends, Pansy and Blaise. Talking with them had been easy, and he realized how much he missed having friends from his old life back. People who knew him well.

Maybe I don't need to run from my past.

He and Blaise were chatting aimlessly about the weather in Germany, where Draco had once lived and where Blaise currently resided. Pansy was nodding along, occasionally chiming in how lovely it sounded.

Then, Neville Longbottom strolled up (wearing a copy of the plaid suit Harry had sported in the magazines). Pansy cast him a disheveling look, but this was not the boy from school who would cower away. He lifted his chin and smiled widely at them.

"Pansy, hullo. Blaise, good to see you!" He added, and Blaise smiled shamelessly and waved. Neville turned to Draco. "And Draco. How are you?" He asked.

Draco frowned, not feeling entirely sure as to why Neville Longbottom of all people would be asking him how he was. "Fine, Neville. Quite happy with how many people have already arrived," he added, hoping to stay neutral.

Neville nodded. "Fantastic, isn't it?" He asked, looking around. He turned back to Draco. "Anyway, just wanted to meet you again, I suppose. The Head Auror talks about you a lot, says you turned out nice. I had to see it to believe it."

Draco frowned at the hidden insult. "I'm quite nice, thank you very much." He said through gritted teeth. Then, "You know Auror Michaels?"

"Yeah, of course. He's my boss. I'm an Auror, didn't you hear?" He asked, and something like pride glinted in his face.

"Wouldn't have expected that, Longbottom." Pansy remarked casually. "Congrats."

"Congrats indeed. You work with Weas-Ronald?" Draco inquired.

"Oh, yeah. We used to be partners on the job, but now I spend most of my time helping with Michaels. He plays a lot of your music-you've got nice tastes, I think." He commented. As he said that, the music began to play.

"I do indeed." Draco smirked, as a newer, but slow, rock song began to play.

Neville smiled. "Care to dance, Pansy?" He asked. "If Luna won't mind. I don't think she would; I was just chatting with her." He added quickly.

Pansy raised her eyebrow. "Whatever, Longbottom. A dance is a dance." She grabbed his elbow and pulled him onto the dance floor, and she began leading the dance.

Blaise chuckled. "Neville's great." He commented.

"You know him well?" Draco responded, picking up a glass of soda water. He had sworn to no alcohol so he wouldn't be caught being soppy around Harry in public. Or start spewing out his bottled up anxiety to some possible sponsor.

"Well, I had to make new friends, didn't I?" Blaise asked. "Not all of us chose to repair our reputations my hiding. I put myself out there. Neville and I go out drinking together. He's surprisingly helpful in reeling in the gals," he added with a wink.

Draco winced. "I'm trying, Blaise." He muttered. "And I can see that. Pansy couldn't resist him, and she doesn't even like men!" He laughed, trying to shake off the regret that he let Neville replace him as Blaise's friend.

"Bet you felt his charm too, didn't you, Draco?" Blaise snickered.

Draco huffed a laugh, and found himself watching Harry across the room. "No, not really," he confessed.

"Got your eye on someone, then?" Blaise asked, trying to follow Draco's gaze. But Harry had disappeared into a crowd of guests. He certainly was surprisingly better at this than Draco.

"Mmmph." Draco muttered, glaring at Blaise. "Perhaps. What about you?"

Blaise didn't respond for a moment. "Is that Ginny Weasley?" He demanded, pointing across the room. Harry had emerged from the crowd with that Weasel girl, and Draco suddenly felt a pang of contempt and jealousy.

"Yes." Draco hissed through gritted teeth.

"Gods, she turned out fine. I hear she's a Quidditch star now. You know if she's still with Potter?"

Draco scowled. "She's definitely not with Potter." He confirmed. He couldn't place a finger on where this sudden jealousy was coming from-Harry was explicitly his, and he had told him he didn't like women. He took a deep breath, reminding himself he had nothing to worry about. He pictured himself being kissed all over by Harry in his bed Thursday morning, and at once his feelings of insecurity vanished.

"Hmm. I might have a go at her then. Whaddya think?" Blaise asked, licking his lips in a rather unsavoury manner.

"I think Harry mentioned she likes women," Draco commented, "but she might be bisexual. I wouldn't know."

Blaise grinned. "I think I'll have a go, then."

"Just leave her alone if she says no, yeah? Otherwise I might have to pull out Pennom on you."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "You've gone bloody mental, between the writing, and Potter's orphan work, and the records and the charity." He commented. "Now, excuse me, but I have a Weasley to seduce."

Draco found that last phrase particularly repulsive.

Harry was in the middle of a group of rich, old women. They were fawning all over him and applauding him for his work and his 'gorgeous, gorgeous eyes.' Then, out of the crowd, Ginny appeared and pulled him away by the arm. "Excuse me, ma'ams," she had said, "but I've got to chat with this one."

She gave him a little of a shove once they were out of the group, and he bumped into a table. "What's with not writing me anymore, huh? I thought that after I sent you that article, we might have something to talk about again," she pouted.

"Gin!" Harry cried. "I'm sorry, I've been terribly busy... And 'Mione and I just made up with Ron..."

"So that's an excuse to ignore me, too?" She demanded. "You're a twat, Potter!"

Harry blushed. "I'm sorry, Gin..."

She rolled her eyes. "You're also bloody gullible. You think I give a shit? I've been practicing nonstop for the World Cup. I wouldn't have time to write to you." She shoved him lightly on the shoulder again.

He laughed. "Right. I forgot you're just as mischievous as George sometimes." He commented.

She grinned. "Oh, yes I am. Now, he's here, and if you don't tell me what's been happening in your life lately, he's agreed to feed you his latest invention." She lifted a hand into the air and beckoned, and George appeared from the fray, in the orange splotched pants and a pink top with spikes all over it that he hadn't remembered being one of the original designs.

"Harry, old boy!" He said mockingly, in a false, creaky old voice. "Why, it's been fifty years, I think. My grandchildren are dying to meet you!" He croaked, conjuring a cane to lean on.

"Bollocks, George," Harry snapped. "It's hardly been six months!"

George stood up straight. "Bloody right, it has." He sniffed. "You missed Christmas! And you haven't even stopped by the shop. Is there no fun in your life?" He questioned, waving a hand dramatically in the air.

Ginny cleared her throat. "Right, Harry. What do you do for fun these days? Ron's been tight lipped lately. Or he just doesn't know anything more than I do," she added with a wink.

"Erm, I've been planning this. And visiting the kids. I carve furniture, too," he added, hoping they wouldn't press him further. He knew, of course, that they would... But one could hope.

"Boring!" Ginny and George both sighed.

"Any ladies in your life?" George asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Ginny cast a smirk towards Harry, and Harry realized that Ron and Ginny were the only Weasleys who knew about his attraction. And Ron was the only one who knew about Draco.

"Actually," Harry said cautiously, "I'm seeing Malfoy." He whispered.

Ginny's eyebrows shot up and she crossed her arms, while George staggered backwards, conjuring the cane again to catch himself. When he pulled himself back together, he leaned into Harry's face and whispered, "Malfoy has a sister?"

Ginny burst out laughing and Harry shrunk a bit. "No, George. I'm seeing Draco Malfoy." He clarified, speaking slowly and hoping his gaze told them to keep it quiet. He could trust them he knew, even if George was unpredictable.

George cackled as well. "Good one, Harry." He wiped a fake tear away. "Let me guess. You're shagging Charlie, too?" He began laughing again, but Ginny elbowed him in the ribs and he stopped.

"Wait." George's eyes cleared as he stared at Harry scrutinizingly. "You're being serious. Merlin, Harry! You're bent!"

Harry blushed. "Yes, I am." He confirmed.

George's face turned concerned. "Does Ron know? Not to be discouraging, but he threw a bit of a fit when he found out about Charlie..." He glanced at Ginny with concern. "Wasn't too Happy when Gin brought home that first girlfriend, either."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "He's over it."

"We've worked it out, I think." Harry added. "Is he here tonight?" He asked, looking around the room for another orange head.

"Yes, actually. He escorted me." Ginny replied. "Poor bloke doesn't know how to be single. I ought to find him someone to dance with." She shook her head and laughed wryly.

"Ginny Weasley!" A voice called, and Harry spotted Blaise Zabini approaching them. "Care to dance?" He asked, presenting an arm with a flourish.

Ginny grinned. "Sure thing, Zabini." She replied, and she was pulled onto the dance floor. Harry saw that it was the Jeweled Junipers playing now, and it was some sort of folksy tune.

Most of the room was dancing-Mrs. Malfoy (whom he had yet to properly meet) was dancing with Manzyne. His dark skin and robes contrasted nicely with her own pale skin and light blue dress, and their were stars in both of their eyes. Draco would be most pleased.

"Well, Harry," George smirked. "I'm straight as an arrow, but I'd love to be your first dance partner of the evening." He told Harry, extending a hand.

"As long as we can convince everyone else that that's how this party goes. I'm not out yet, you know." He informed George.

George simpered. "Well, I'll be sure to keep our little affair hush-hush, then."

Draco had not expected George Weasley to be his competition tonight, but there he was, dancing with Draco's boyfriend. He watched from the sidelines with a scowl, but decided that brooding was unbefitting of him.

He took the arm of the nearest elderly lady and took her onto the dance floor. She squeaked with delight, and once they were dancing, she chuckled and said, "It's been a long time since a handsome fellow like you has done something like that to me!"

Draco found himself dancing with multiple partners, both men and women. Harry did as well, he noted, and he kept track of each of them. All three of the visiting Weasleys (Ronald protested most adamantly); a few young witches and then the men that seemed to be their husbands or dates; Neville Longbottom; and too many old women to count. He did it casually, cheerfully, as he always did everything. Everyone loved him.

Draco danced with Longbottom, too (it turned out he couldn't resist his charm), as well as Blaise, Pansy, and an old man who repeatedly mentioned Draco's writing. There were several unfamiliar faces, made even more hard to remember because each and every one of them was in some garish child's idea of clothing. Colors of all sorts whirred around him, and his senses were too overwhelmed for him to even notice if he were having a panic attack.

Towards the end of the dancing, Manzyne had broken away from dancing with Draco's mother (and oh had Draco noticed the looks they gave each other) to play the last several slow songs.

The energy was dying down, and Draco found himself and his partner (a young French man) bump into someone else. He looked up and saw Harry with an old woman Draco had recognized from his trial.

"Excuse me," Harry said, pulling away gently from her. He tapped Draco's partner on the shoulder. "May I borrow him?" He inquired.

The man was not about to deny his host, so he reluctantly joined with the old woman, and Harry approached Draco. "Care to have the last dance, Malfoy?"

"I'm surprised you bothered to ask," Draco replied, and though Harry took the initiative, Draco led the dance. As casual and happy Harry looked, he was still a shit dancer. "Why did people bother with you?" He asked teasingly. "You're all over my toes."

Harry smirked. "So they could say they danced with Harry Potter, of course," he replied. "And, of course, for my conversational skills."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh, naturally, with your awkward... charm?"

"It won you over, didn't it? I am a natural flirt, you know," Harry whispered, all of a sudden trying to take the lead, but he ended up stumbling. "Anyway," he corrected his feet and his hand placement, "lots of people have offered to adopt."

"Let's see how many of them actually visit the orphanage, though." Draco muttered, and yelped as Harry stepped on his toe.

"At least a half a dozen will." Harry assured him. "And after dinner, we'll have more opportunities to talk. Have you spoken with anyone?"

Draco grimaced. "Not really," he confessed. "Trying to keep my head together, yeah? It's a little rough," he confessed.

"It's fine. Let me know if you need a break, okay? You're sitting next to me at the table." He reminded him.

Draco nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."

The dancing ended, and dinner began. Harry gave a quick speech about the orphans, the purpose of the gala, and how while the money everyone there had contributed was fantastic, the best solution would be adoption. There was a short amount of applause, and Draco stood continued for him.

"A cause that does need money, however, is something that Harry Potter and I have put together. If you agree with the cause, we have slips of paper above your plates. You can check the option for part of what you've already paid to go towards this charity, or all of it, or none of it." He explained.

"We've refrained from mentioning this before because of the priority on the children's situation, along with the fact we just finished getting the charity authorized last night." He smiled, and a gentle chuckle resonated throughout the room.

"We've yet to settle on a name yet-Potter here's considered the Rainbow View, whereas I think that's too soppy, and have elected to simply call it the Magically Talented LGBTQ Foundation." A silence settled.

"Call it what you like," Draco continued. "Harry Potter and I both think that there's a lack of information out there on what it means to love someone of the same sex here in the wizarding community." Harry had to keep himself from looking up at Draco when he said that, and let him continue.

"The funds, if you choose to donate them, will go towards funding a mixed media campaign spreading the awareness of the LGBT presence among us. Hopefully, we'll scrap together some journalists other than myself to cover the topic." He explained.

"More importantly, we want the money to go towards finding help and therapy for gay, lesbian, trans, or anyone else struggling with gender or sexuality. We think it would help to have resources for adolescents at Hogwarts, especially." There was a murmur of a response at this, but Draco didn't falter, which impressed Harry. He stood strong despite his insecurities.

"As wizards, we tend to take interest in strange, odd, abnormal-queer things. I'd like to ask that we all consider valuing our queer people, too." He finished his speech with a sound nod, and Harry took initiative with the applause.

When it died out, Harry stood up and placed a gentle, reassuring hand on Draco's shoulder. "Are there anymore questions?" He asked.

An old, tall man stood up. "Yes," he said firmly. "My wife and I were wondering... what's lesbian?"

Oh gods. Harry thought. This could take a while.

He encouraged everyone to begin eating as he answered questions.

Narcissa watched her son deliver his speech calmly and cooly, the picture of everything she and Lucius could have hoped for him. There was another person, however, that her eyes kept on returning to. And, sadly, it wasn't Manzyne.

She had thought she'd spotted Andromeda from the dance floor, but was so caught up with her dance partner that she ignored it. Now, however, sitting naught but a few seats across from her, Narcissa knew that her sister was at the gala.

She wasn't sure when the last time she had seen her was, though she wasn't expecting to meet her here. She probably thought she was oh-so-progressive, spending her money on poor little orphans like her grandchild. And she probably knew about Harry and Draco, and supported their unconventional-

No, she didn't. Narcissa watched her sister's face as Draco rose to speak, and it was not out of contempt for Draco's bloodline. Her face tightened and a scowl formed when she saw Draco's passion (which Narcissa hadn't even realized he'd had) for the gay rights cause. When it came time to check the box, she noted her sister chose not to donate any to the new charity.

Draco and Harry began asking questions, and Andromeda was staring vehemently at them. Harry, too, she noted, which was strange as he was her grandchild's godfather.

When chatter had resumed, and Harry and Draco were busy answering private questions, Narcissa found a way to sneak into a seat next to Andromeda, which was a distasteful mood that Lucius would have detested. But Lucius was not here, and Narcissa followed her own rules.

"I hadn't known you were so bigoted, sister." She whispered as she took a seat next to her. Andromeda stared up at her with anger, as if she had been expecting her to visit with her and had been dreading it.

"You're one to talk!" Andromeda hissed in response.

"I married Lucius because I knew what our parents would do if I didn't. And, at the time, I loved him. But that does not mean I necessarily share their close-mindedness," she replied cooly, staring at her sister with a level gaze.

"So, you're fine with your son doing that?" She whispered, making a vague gesture with her hands.

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "My son cannot help the way he was born, Andromeda. Just like you can't control if you're a muggle or a wizard, Draco didn't choose to want men. I accept that this is how he is, and I want him to be happy."

"You don't actually believe that hogwash, do you, Cissy? I thought you were smarter than that." Andromeda was scowling, and her attitude was not pleasant in the slightest.

"Draco never showed interest in girls. That's proof enough for me. And if it still matters so much to you whom my son pursues... I would say you have an unhealthy problem." Narcissa sniffed, watching as Draco spoke in reserved tones to a pensive looking young couple. Beside him, Harry watched in admiration.

"It's disgusting, Narcissa." Andromeda protested.

"You sound like our parents." Narcissa snapped. "It sounds as though you're still resentful with them for their prejudice, and this is your way of getting revenge. This is your holding power over other people." She whispered in a rush.

Andromeda did not respond. She kept still and silent.

"I would ask you to consider forgiveness and acceptance. It weighs much lighter on the soul." Narcissa stood, and left her sister to brood in her own, close minded thoughts. Narcissa was going to meet her son's boyfriend.

After a long bearing conversation with two parents asking for advice on what to do if any of their children turned out to be gay, Draco truly hoped the dinner was almost over. He and Harry had answered some of the most basic questions to the most obscure. It appeared their audience was, for the most part, completely clueless.

He thought he might have a quiet break from it all, but then his mother appeared. He supposed she wanted to meet Harry, and he wouldn't object to that. Though, a public introduction would have been very different from the private one, he found himself almost grateful, because she would be less likely to question them on the "nature" of their relationship together.

"Mother," he smiled warmly at her when she arrived, and Harry dipped his head in greeting.

"Hello, Draco. This is the infamous Harry Potter?" She asked, not doubting that he of course was.

"In the flesh, Mrs. Malfoy." Harry smiled cheekily at her, and he kissed the hand that she offered.

"I am married to Lucius no longer, Mr. Potter." Narcissa informed him. "Ms. Malfoy will do. I've yet to return to my maiden name." Draco thought he saw her cast an unpleasant glance at Andromeda, but he wasn't sure.

"Well, Ms. Malfoy," Harry repeated, "are you enjoying your evening?"

She smiled. "Very much so. Your preparations are impressive, and I feel inclined to say that Draco's choice in music for the evening was perfect."

Draco couldn't help but smirk. He wondered what would become of his mother and Mr. Manzyne.

"And the house elf conflict was resolved?" Harry inquired. "I'm so very sorry for the inconvenience that must have caused. And I admit we should have informed you sooner." His voice was laced with charm, and Draco couldnt help but wonder if he had rehearsed.

"That has all been remedied, young man," Narcissa smiled sweetly. "After all, it means I got to meet you, no? I'm sure you've been treating my son well." She added, with a very subtle wink.

"He's wonderful, mother." Draco replied quietly, and shared a joyous glance with Harry that for more reasons than one he hoped no one else had noticed.

"I should hope so. He is the Boy Who Lived, after all."

Harry grimaced. "I prefer not to be remembered by that," he confessed, and Draco found himself smirking at the memory of all the times he and Harry had used it ironically. "I'm trying to become known for my other endeavors. Such as this one."

"And I'm sure you will, Harry." Narcissa assured him. "However, it seems like there are others waiting to be in your company. I plan on meeting you again later, Mr. Potter." Narcissa excused herself and returned to her seat, and Draco found himself faced by Cassius Aterneus.

"Draco!" He grinned. "And Mr. Potter," he intoned, reaching out an eager hand to shake. "A lovely event you've thrown here. As a trans wizard, I appreciate your efforts with the charity, whatever you're calling it."

"Thank you, Mr...?" Harry trailed off.

"Oh! My apologies. Cassius Aterneus, Editor in Chief of The Daily Prophet." He winked at Draco. "I just wanted to let you know that I'll do whatever I can to promote this charity of yours," he added.

"Thank you," Draco smiled. "And I'm sure you won't face any conflict over that," he chuckled.

Cassius frowned. "Actually, I'm here to warn you about that. As editor, I hold a lot of power. But the publisher and the owner have more leeway to do what they want, and their agenda is unclear. But they might be against you two. So watch out."

"Oh." Draco and Harry both muttered, turning to face each other. "That's most unfortunate." Draco murmured. He could see how some bad press could seriously hurt their campaign...

"I'll talk to Skeeter, though. She'll be on your side, no matter what the big shots say. We can get a counter article published, along with some celebrity endorsement-if Harry Potter himself hosting it wasn't enough." Cassius snickered.

"That means a lot to us, sir." Harry replied.

"I know." Cassius answered. Before leaving, he bent in between both of them, and whispered, "You two lovebirds be careful, okay? People are starting to wonder." Then, he got up and marched away, leaving the two of them dumbfounded.

"Well," Draco breathed. "That was unexpected."

All in all, Harry decided, the night had ended well. He had caught up with a lot of old friends (Ron included, who had approached him towards the end of things). Draco even tied some old friendships back up, with Blaise and Pansy.

Things were looking up, he decided, as he bid his guests farewell. The house elves were cleaning up the mess, and Draco was getting autographs from all the musicians-which Harry knew he would just sell, Draco not being one for memorabilia.

Hermione and Terry were among the last to leave, with promises of wedding invitations and visits to the orphanage. The musicians followed, and soon it was just him and the two Malfoys.

Narcissa made no approach to speak with them, electing to go to bed after a wistful goodbye with her new musician friend. Harry had the feeling it would not be the last time they saw each other, either.

Draco was waiting for him with an arm full of signed records. "Where are we staying tonight? Mine or yours?" He asked through a yawn.

"Who said we were sleeping together?" Harry asked, stepping to plant an awkward kiss on Draco's cheek.

"Oh, I just assumed." Draco smirked, taking Harry's chin and planting a full kiss on his lips. "It's generally what we do, isn't it?"

Harry nodded absently. "We really do have to publish my coming out article soon, though," he sighed, pulling Draco into an embrace. "It's becoming very frustrating to have to keep a reign on everything I say and do around you. I feel guilty just looking at you."

"So, like school, then?" Draco snickered, kissing Harry's forehead, and then his cheek, and then his neck. "Come on, I'm tired. We can think about your publicity later; I daresay we've had enough of that for one night."

"Fine," Harry agreed, slinking an arm around Draco's waist. "My place?" He suggested. "Oranges and spice might be nice," he added with a wink.

"Oranges and bloody spice," Draco groaned good-naturedly, and he led Harry away to the floo.

Rita Skeeter was torn.

She had been hiding behind a curtain under a disillusionment charm, watching the incredibly intimate encounter between Malfoy and Potter. She had brought her more discreet camera and taken several shots, her Quick Quotes Quill recording their conversation.

Now she didn't know what to do with the information. By some grace of the gods, she had made it off the grounds without setting off any wards. She was now back in the comfort of her own home, mulling over the options.

On one hand, there was the right thing to do. Her editor-whose power she did not resent, despite his young age; she wanted to be a reporter, not an editor-had a conversation with her about promoting the gala and the (now apparent) couple's new charity. She happened to agree with the cause, and she didn't want to mess with it at all.

On the other hand, there was the reporter thing to do. She had this information, and the people would eat it up! In the cliche words of so many of her comrades: "The people deserve to know!"

But there was a quiet voice whispering in the back of her head, a voice she rarely heard much of. It reminded her that there was only so much the people deserved to know. After all, it wasn't like this was some secret, Death Eater, foul-hearted planning she had stumbled upon. Hell, it wasn't even an infidelity scandal! It was a quiet, intimate moment between lovers in their own home.

And of course, there was the consequence of what would happen to her if she published it. Potter and Malfoy had allies-she knew that after observing the gala, even if they didn't know them. She had seen the silent support of them, the sound belief in her cause. If people found out she had been spying on them? Merlin, it might be the end of her career.

But, then again, there were also people who resented them. Or resented one and not the other. And the kind of stir they would cause would be interesting, good for news. It would be the kind of drama she loved.

Another quiet morality voiced in the back of her head, the voice of her "true love," Loriette. Would she betray her if she published this? If publishing this set back the gay rights cause (which it might), she would never forgive herself. Loriette might never forgive her, six feet under she may have been.

Life is so difficult.